Matchmaking with a Mission

by B. J Daniels

  She turned and caught movement from the front window. Moving to it, she saw a pickup pull into the driveway. She hadn’t heard the engine, not with the sounds of the approaching storm. To her surprise, she recognized the truck and the man who threw open the door and raced through the wind toward the house.

  What is Flynn Garrett doing here? she wondered as she headed downstairs.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Nate stared at the mound of dirt that the flood had deposited downstream. Grass and weeds grew lush green over the soil as if it had always been there. He hadn’t even noticed it and would never have guessed part of the hillside had been washed down here.

  He knew he was finally going to find his brother, and for a moment that knowledge made him incapable of action. He told himself that after all these years there might not be anything of his brother left. The flood or animals could have carried off his remains.

  But Nate knew better. He told himself he was prepared for what he would find. This was no longer about revenge or justice or proving what had happened to his brother. This was now about burying Johnny. And moving on.

  The earth was soft and damp here by the river as he turned his first bladeful of soil.

  He thought about the woman in the house. Could McKenna Bailey move on after this? Would she keep the house? Sell the place? Hadn’t she said she wanted to raise horses here? Paint horses. Like the one she’d been riding the very first time he saw her.

  He stopped shoveling for a moment to look out across the rolling green hills, to imagine paint colts running in the wind across the green pasture. He wished she’d been able to complete her dream. He would have liked to have seen that here, he thought as he began to dig again.

  The wind howled through the trees over his head, the cottonwood branches thrashing back and forth, freed leaves peppering him. The storm was imminent, the sky an odd color—the color it turned when it was about to hail.

  He dug faster. The first raindrops lashed down, cold and hard. The rain dropped down through the trees, shredding the leaves over his head, running off the brim of his hat, soaking him to the skin.

  He dug heedless of the storm, lost in the monotonous action until the blade of his shovel hit something with a thud. He bent down. What he’d struck seemed to be caught in some sort of fabric. How was that possible after all these years? But then he remembered. The quilts from the beds where they’d slept were made of old jeans that were said to wear like iron. Perfect for rough boys.

  He pulled back the edge of the rotted material and saw what he knew was the leg bone of a boy of ten.

  FROM THE WINDOW McKenna watched Flynn race toward the house as rain began to pour down on him. She hurried to open the front door, surprised to see him.

  “What a storm,” Flynn said as he shook the rain from his jacket before stepping inside. “I haven’t seen anything like this in years.” He stilled as he glanced around the living room, his expression turning grave.

  The wind and rain beat against the old windows, making them rattle. She could no longer see the mailbox up on the road through the pouring rain and mist. All she could think about was Nate out in it.

  “So are you here alone?” Flynn asked, drawing her attention away from the storm and Nate.

  She felt a stab of unease at the odd question. “What?”

  “Your sisters. I thought they would be here helping you paint or something.”

  She shook her head and watched Flynn look around the living room, his expression still grim.

  Lightning flashed, and an instant later a boom of thunder shook the house. McKenna jumped, surprised how tense she was.

  “My mother was afraid of storms,” Flynn said, noticing her reaction. “She always wanted me to sit with her. She would hold my hand and we would sing songs so she didn’t have to listen to the thunder.” He shook his head. “Funny the memories a storm brings back, huh?”

  She nodded, wondering what he was doing here—and why he was making her so uneasy.

  “So let’s see the rest of the house,” he said and headed toward the back without waiting for an answer. “It looks as if you’re moving in.” He started up the stairs.

  She stood for a moment, then followed him. Obviously he’d just come out because he’d been worried about her after what had happened out here last night. And maybe he finally did want to see what she’d done with the house. After all, she had extended the invitation to him just the other day. She tried to relax, but the storm and worrying about Nate…

  When she reached the third floor, she found Flynn standing at the window, looking toward the front of the house. “This was going to be my office,” she said to his back.

  “Was?” he asked, turning to face her.

  “I don’t think I’m staying in the house,” she said and wished she hadn’t said anything.

  “Really?” He seemed almost amused by that. “What changed your mind?”

  Nate. “Everything.”

  He nodded as he looked around the room. “They didn’t come back,” he said, his gaze lighting on her. “The boys. So much for that blood oath, huh?”

  “One of them did. The one who…died out here last night.”

  “Yeah, I heard about that. I’m glad to see that you’re all right. But wasn’t he crazy or something?”

  “I guess he’d been in a mental facility. Schizophrenia.”

  He nodded. “Well, all your worries were for nothing, it seems. I’m surprised, though, now that it’s apparently over, why you aren’t planning to stay. Wouldn’t have anything to do with my buddy Nate Dempsey, would it?”

  She felt a tremor of shock. “You know Nate?”

  “Nate and I go way back. He knows me as Lucky, though. Lucky Thomas.”

  “You said your name was Flynn Garrett.” McKenna felt as if her head was swimming.

  “It is. Thomas Flynn Garrett. When Nate and I met here at Harper House, I called myself Lucky Thomas. Even at that young age I had a keen sense of irony. Lucky is the last thing I’ve ever been.”

  Lucky Thomas. She remembered his name on the list she’d found and felt her pulse begin to thrum. “You lived here?” Why hadn’t he said something when she’d shown him the blood oath she’d found under the floorboards?

  “I could tell you stories about this house that would make your hair curl.” He frowned. “My mother liked that expression.” He must have seen her face. “Don’t look so panicked,” he said with a laugh. “I didn’t come back to Whitehorse because of the pact. I’m here because of Nate. I knew the minute I heard Ellis Harper had finally died what Nate would do.”

  She watched him move around the room as he talked and wished Nate would come in soon. Flynn bumped against a mirror she’d left leaning against the wall until she decided where to put it.

  As the mirror fell over, he lunged for it with a curse. The glass hit the floor and shattered, making them both jump. Flynn began to swear, backing up from the broken mirror as if it were a rattlesnake coiled to strike.

  “It’s all right,” she said quickly. “It was just an inexpensive mirror. Really, it’s no big deal.”

  He turned on her, his eyes wide. “Seven years of bad luck. That’s a pretty big deal.”

  “I don’t think that really happens,” she said cautiously.

  He seemed to pull himself back together, but she noticed he avoided going near the mirror.

  He was making her more nervous by the moment. Obviously something was bothering him. Between his odd behavior and the storm and what Nate was doing behind the house right now, she was a wreck.

  “If you came out to see Nate—”

  “He was like a brother to me.” Flynn stopped again at the window, his back to her. “We didn’t know each other for long, but I never forgot him. He was my best friend. My only friend in this house.” Flynn turned to face her suddenly. “He saved my life when we were kids here. Did he tell you that? No,” he said with a laugh before she could answer. “He wouldn’t have mentioned me. But he told y
ou he used to live here, didn’t he?”

  She nodded, unable to speak. She tried to assure herself that her fears weren’t justified. Just because Flynn had been one of the boys in this house…

  She glanced toward the window. The rain fell in a deluge, the wind gusts throwing it against the glass. By now Nate would have taken shelter. He couldn’t still be digging. He would wait for the storm to let up before he came into the house. If he came to the house before he left.

  “I owe Nate my life,” Flynn was saying. “I would do anything to protect him. Hell, I already have. But I’m afraid it isn’t going to be enough.”

  “I’m sure he’s grateful for everything you’ve done for him.”

  Flynn laughed at that. “He doesn’t even know the half of it. No one does.”

  Didn’t he realize Nate was out back? Surely he would have seen Nate’s pickup and horse trailer, unless he hadn’t been able to see it through the rain.

  He thought she was alone here. A shaft of icy fear raced up her spine. She was.

  SHERIFF CARTER JACKSON picked up the APB that came over the wire just about the time the storm hit.

  His second in command, Deputy Nick Giovanni, came in on a gust of wind and rain. “There’s going to be some flooding for sure before this one’s over.”

  “They’re talking a chance for hail on the news.” Storms like these always meant more accidents on the highways. He was glad Eve and Faith were at the ranch and not out in the middle of it. He recalled the last bad storm they’d had. Eve had been trapped in it.

  Shoving that unpleasant thought away, he read the APB that had come in.

  “Something up?” Nick asked.

  “Double-murder suspect. He’s driving a pickup with out-of-state plates. They think he might be in our area.” Carter handed the information to Nick, who frowned.

  “I think I’ve seen a truck like this in front of a cabin out on Nelson Reservoir,” he said.

  “He’s wanted for questioning in the murder of a woman and her husband in Nebraska,” Carter said. “Looked like an apparent robbery/murder. One of the neighbors had seen the pickup around for several weeks. It’s believed he took money and credit cards. Could be a relative. One of the woman’s former husbands was named Garrett.”

  “Wait a minute,” Nick said as he saw the photograph being distributed. “I’ve seen this guy. He was at Northern Lights restaurant with McKenna the other night. I’m sure it’s the same man.”

  Carter swore as he tried McKenna’s cell first. She must have had it off, because it went straight to voice mail. He dialed the Bailey ranch.

  Eve answered the phone.

  “Hey,” he said. “I’m hoping McKenna is there. I need to ask her a couple more questions.”

  “She left to go see you,” Eve said.

  “You don’t know where else she might have gone?” he asked.

  Eve groaned. “Probably back out to that house. You’re sure everything is all right?”

  “It will be once we’re married,” he said. “Got to go. I’ll call you later.” He got off the line before she could quiz him more. Eve had a way of seeing through most people, especially those she knew well. She could read him like a book.

  “No luck?” Nick asked.

  Carter shook his head as he reached for his hat and his patrol car keys. “You go out to the cabin where you saw his pickup. I’m going to find McKenna.”

  NATE SLUMPED DOWN into the mud as the rain washed the dirt from the bag of bones. Johnny.

  He’d known Johnny wouldn’t have left him to the cruelties of Harper House. Johnny had always protected him even though Johnny had always gotten the brunt of it.

  Tears streamed down his face along with the rain as he turned his face up to the storm and let out a roar of rage, the sound lost in the wind. The storm was deafening, but it was nothing like the storm raging inside him. He felt powerless. He’d come back to find his brother and avenge his death.

  But there would be no vengeance. Roy Vaughn was dead. So was Dennis Jones and whoever else had helped carry Johnny’s body out to what would be a shallow, restless grave.

  Nate drove his fist into the mud again and again as the storm thundered around him, the wind hurling stinging rain into his face, until his knuckles were bloody and bruised.

  Johnny was dead. Just as Nate had known for years. But finding his body was more devastating than even he had imagined.

  He wiped his jacket sleeve across his eyes and pushed himself to his feet again. Leaning down, he carefully pulled the bag of bones free of the mud. It was over. Roy Vaughn was dead. There would be no more looking over his shoulder. He would bury Johnny now. It was all he could do for the brother he’d loved more than life.

  His fingers caught on something. He raised his hand, surprised to see that it was a thin silver chain. The end was hooked on the almost indistinguishable fabric of the old denim quilt.

  He broke it loose and held the chain up to the light, letting the rain wash over the cheap chain that had tarnished from being in the ground and the small silver medallion that hung from it. This had been in with Johnny’s body. Why?

  He turned the medallion up to see it, wiping away the rest of the mud with his thumb, and saw with a start that it was a St. Christopher medal. His heart began to pound so erratically he didn’t trust his legs. He slumped back against one of the cottonwood trunks. He’d only known one person who’d worn a St. Christopher medal.

  My mother gave it to me, Nate remembered the boy saying. It’s the only thing I have from her.

  Even before Nate turned the medal over he knew what name would be there. Engraved into the silver was the word Thomas.

  FLYNN MOVED TO THE back window. “I tried to convince Nate to let the past go. I did everything I could to protect him. But he just can’t let it go, can he?”

  “Maybe we should go see how he is,” McKenna said. “He’s just out back.”

  “Digging?” He stepped to the back window. “He’s not going to find Johnny’s body way down there.”

  McKenna’s head snapped up, her pulse a thrum in her ears. Flynn seemed to have frozen, as if his own words had finally registered.

  She glanced toward the doorway, but before she could take a step Flynn turned, and she saw what seemed to leap into his hand. She heard the snick of the switchblade as the blade shot out and saw the look on Flynn’s handsome face as he blocked the doorway.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head as she stepped back, bumping into the wall. “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m afraid you do,” Flynn said.

  She stared at the blade of the knife gleaming dully in the light from the storm. She feared she understood only too well as he came toward her.

  The sound of a door slamming downstairs made them both turn. She opened her mouth, but Flynn was faster. He grabbed a handful of her hair and pressed the blade of the knife to her throat.

  “You do exactly as I say and no one gets hurt,” he whispered into her ear.

  “McKenna?” Nate called from below them.

  “Answer him,” Flynn whispered. “Say Up here, Nate. And nothing more.”

  She felt the sting of the blade as Nate called her name again. “Don’t come up!” she cried out. “He’s got a knife!”

  Flynn laughed. “So it’s like that with you and Nate?” He shook his head at the sound of Nate’s frantic footfalls on the stairs. “I guess we’ll do it your way, then.”

  NATE STOPPED IN THE doorway, taking in everything in one quick flash: Lucky clutching a handful of McKenna’s hair and holding a switchblade knife to her throat.

  “Hello, Lucky,” he said, feeling that cold calm come over him. “Or should I call you Flynn?”

  “I like Flynn better since we both know that my luck has run out. You found Johnny?” He sounded surprised.

  Nate nodded. “And I found this with his remains.” He opened his hand and the St. Christopher medal tumbled out to dangle from the tarnished chain.

  Flyn
n stared at it for a moment as if hypnotized, and Nate thought about rushing him but couldn’t chance it. He met McKenna’s gaze. She was scared but strong. He knew he could count on her when things hit the fan—which they were going to do. And soon.

  “This is between you and me, Flynn,” he said calmly. “Let McKenna go.”

  “I’ve tried to make up for what happened with Johnny,” Flynn said, sounding close to tears.

  “What did happen with Johnny?”

  “You know how Johnny was. He wouldn’t back down from Roy.”

  “I asked what happened the night you killed Johnny,” Nate said.

  “It was Roy. He made me do things.” Flynn’s voice trembled. “I knew he would hurt me if I didn’t do what he said. I was just a boy,” he wailed. “Didn’t you ever wonder why Roy never hurt me? You had to know.”

  Nate knew. He’d never admitted it though, but it was one of the reasons he had hated Roy Vaughn for so many years.

  “Then this one night Roy came over to my bed and told me I had to do something to prove my loyalty to him,” Flynn said, pulling himself together. “If I didn’t do it, he would kill you. I begged him, but Roy—” Flynn’s voice broke.

  “How did your St. Christopher medal end up with Johnny’s body?”

  “I put it there. It was all I had. I wanted to give Johnny something. Bad idea, huh?”

  Nate nodded. Flynn had left a clue, one he must have realized later would come back to haunt him if Nate ever found his brother’s remains. “So that’s why you came up here the minute you heard Ellis Harper had died. Just like you said, you knew I’d be here looking for Johnny.”

  “I killed Roy for you,” Flynn blurted out. “I heard he was living with his mother and her boyfriend. You should have seen Roy. He was dying of cancer and had wasted away to nothing. He cried like a baby when I killed him.”

  Nate felt sick. He could see the look of horror in McKenna’s eyes. And the fear. She had to know just how dire this situation was. Did she also know that he would die trying to save her if it came to that?