Yep, that’s all she wanted. Then she could walk away, forget him.
She knocked, then pushed the door open.
Stuttered to a stop.
Empty?
She walked over to the bed, touched the covers, tasting her heartbeat. Certainly they hadn’t discharged him already. She’d called nearly every day since leaving, just to check on him, still using her identifier as his fiancée.
Wasn’t he getting better? She slipped her hand to her mouth. No—this couldn’t be right—
“Can I help you?” A nurse, and she looked familiar.
“Do you remember the man who was here? Owen Christiansen?”
“Oh yes. You’re his fiancée.”
She let the lie stay for now. “I think I must have . . . Well, do you—?” Wow, she hoped suddenly that this nurse didn’t have to deliver dismal news to Owen’s beloved. “Where is he?”
The RN frowned. “He was discharged this morning.”
“Right! No wonder he called. I had to go down to Homer and I missed a few of his calls.” Not a lie on either account.
“Aren’t you going back to Minnesota with him? I think their flight left today.”
Scotty tried not to let those words wallop her. “Yeah. Of course. Except I’m not going out for another week or so—too much wedding planning to do here.”
The nurse nodded, her gaze falling to Scotty’s bare ring finger. Oops.
“Thank you,” she said, too quickly, and pushed past the nurse to the door.
The woman’s words fell around her as she stood in the elevator. Aren’t you going back to Minnesota with him?
Apparently not.
She didn’t care, not in the least, that he hadn’t said good-bye. After all, she’d marched out of his life.
He’d saved her from looking even more foolish.
Still, her eyes burned as she stepped back out into the cold. She threw the duffel on the cruiser floor, climbed in after it. “He’s gone,” she said to her uncle.
“Did he . . . ? He didn’t pass away, did he?”
See, people made assumptions. She wasn’t crazy. “He went back to Minnesota with his brother.” Where he belonged.
In fact, they were both exactly where they belonged.
They pulled up to the police headquarters, just down the road, a two-story gray-and-brown municipal building, the Alaskan and American flags flittering in the snowy breeze.
Scotty got out and followed her uncle inside, dragging the duffels behind her and killing the oh-so-tempting urge to drop one of them in the nearby Dumpster.
She trailed Gil through the lobby to the administrative offices. Chief Elmore met him across the room with a handshake.
Balding, with a tough-guy smile, the man could be a poster boy for the local SWAT team, with his crushing handshake, not to mention the way he’d done a thorough assessment of her at first glance.
“Great to have you join us, Scotty. Your uncle spent an hour begging me not to give you a job.”
“Thanks for that, Uncle Gil.”
“If she weren’t our best detective, I might not have fought so hard. Because did I mention she’s also stubborn?”
Elmore nodded. “That’s how we like ’em. Unfortunately, like I mentioned when we talked, the position isn’t open for another three weeks. We have a patrolman retiring then, and I’ll scoot you into his slot until the new recruits are ready. I have no doubt we’ll have you working major crimes by spring.”
Three weeks to wait, letting memories churn around in her heart while she bided her time. Scotty tried not to make a face. “Sounds perfect, sir.”
“There’s nothing she can work on until then? Cold cases, maybe? She just, well . . .”
Scotty glanced at Gil, nonplussed.
“She needs to stay focused on something,” he finished.
Oh, thank you so much, Uncle Gil. Broadcast my broken heart to the entire world—
“I don’t know if you heard, but she got pulled out of the Bering Sea last week, and I think she needs to get back to work, if you catch me,” Gil continued.
Clearly not thinking about her broken heart.
In fact, she might be the only one. And maybe she should stop labeling it as a broken heart.
She’d never see Owen again, and yes, she could live with that. Cheer, even.
“Well, maybe I have something,” Elmore said. “We just brought in a couple travelers from the airport who fit a BOLO description. If their IDs are confirmed, we’ll have to send them back to the Lower 48. With an escort.” He turned to Scotty. “How about a mini vacation?”
Babysitting?
Her uncle grinned like he’d just handed her tickets to Hawaii.
It was true that she didn’t exactly relish the thought of the pullout at Angie’s. Besides, how long could it take? A flight down, a day for processing, a flight back. Two days, tops, and she could dig in and hunt for an apartment. Take a couple weeks to settle into her new life.
“I guess so.”
“Great. You can stow your gear in the locker room. I’ll have you issued a key. Gil, are you sticking around for a beer?”
Her uncle begged off, gave Scotty a hug.
She picked up the duffel bags, feeling like a vagabond.
“Follow me,” said a female officer, and they headed down the hallway, past the holding rooms to the locker area.
“I’m telling you, we’re not criminals!”
The voice rebounded from an anteroom the opposite direction.
Scotty stopped. Glanced at the officer. “Who’s that?”
“I don’t know, ma’am. I think it’s those two Brian just brought in from the airport. One of them is wanted for questioning in connection to a murder in Minnesota.”
Murder. In Minnesota? No, it couldn’t be . . . “What’s his name?”
“I don’t know. I just heard Brian talking.”
Banging shuddered the door. “Shouldn’t we be getting a phone call or a lawyer or something? For cryin’ in the sink, we’re not fugitives!”
Murder. Scotty dropped the duffels, dragged them down the corridor toward the voices.
“Ma’am?” The officer followed after her. “You can’t go in there—”
Scotty stopped. “Actually, yes, I can. I’m babysitting.” Then she pushed open the door.
Both occupants froze when they looked up at her.
“Pipe down,” Scotty said as she shut the door. “You want to end up in handcuffs?”
Casper backed away from the door, holding his shoe in his hand, his hair mussed, his shirt untucked.
“Put the shoe down, Casper,” she said quietly.
Then she turned to Owen, who was sitting on a chair, one arm tucked around his chest. He’d trimmed his beard to a thin copper thatch, and with his eye patch, his blond hair neatly capped with a black tuque, and Casper’s worn leather jacket, he looked mysterious, if not dangerous.
What in the world had Owen gotten himself into? But even as she let the thought drift through her, she shook her head.
No. She’d seen his drawn face, heard his voice as he confessed his regrets. He’d made mistakes, sure, but he would not murder anyone.
“Scotty,” he whispered, a smile skimming up his face. “You came back.”
She let out a noise that sounded a lot like the churning inside her chest, half chuckle, half disbelief, lots of I-really-can’t-believe-you-two.
Thankfully, she had his duffel. She thumped it on the table in front of him. “Yeah, well, you forgot something.”
And shoot, if he didn’t let that grin rip, Mr. Eye Patch, trouble in a leather jacket. “Indeed I did.”
“I THINK YOU SHOULD ARREST US.”
“What?”
Scotty had left them after dropping off the duffel bag, not returning for so long that Owen vowed if she did come back, he would suggest something—anything—to make her stick around.
Even handcuffs.
Because he knew deep in his heart that this was
his last chance. If she left him again, that would be it. She wouldn’t come marching back into his life, and everything he’d conjured in his mind would be over.
He still couldn’t believe he’d let her go, almost without a fight.
That killed him the most. The fact that he hadn’t chased after her. Why not? Stupid man.
And yeah, he’d been strapped to his bed with an IV and oxygen cannula. But five days later, he could have wrestled himself from bed, found his clothes, trekked out of Providence hospital, and headed back to Dutch Harbor.
Instead, he’d stupidly let Casper talk him into getting on a plane.
Unbelievably, God still had his back. He’d led Scotty right back to Owen. It was a sign. A happily-ever-after sign that maybe God wasn’t done with him yet.
In fact, God might be all about answering his prayers, helping him fix his mistakes. He didn’t know exactly how to thank Casper for showing up on his doorstep, caring enough to let him walk back into Raina’s life and meet his daughter. Maybe the guy wasn’t so bad after all. Even if he had the subtlety of a snowplow.
“If we’re criminals, you probably need to make sure we don’t escape. Maybe you should handcuff me to you, at least,” Owen said.
Scotty frowned at him. “What? No. Listen, you shouldn’t have caused such a ruckus at the airport. Yes, there was a BOLO out on you, but you didn’t have to threaten a TSA official, Casper.”
Casper pursed his lips, looked away.
“But now that you’re here, we just need to ask you a few questions. You’re not under arrest.”
She closed the door to the holding room and sat on the edge of the table. Before she’d left, she’d brought in another chair for Casper, who had somewhat managed to put himself together after the altercation at the airport. He still looked flummoxed, pacing the room.
“Sit down, Casper,” Scotty said, her voice on the lee edge of impatient, and Owen missed the sweet sarcasm from when she’d dropped his duffel on the table. You forgot something.
Boy howdy, had he. In fact, he’d nearly leaped across the table, wanting to take her into his arms, scroll back to that moment when Casper had dropped the bomb about Layla. Tell her to just breathe, that they could figure this thing out.
He’d spent the better part of a week forming a sketchy plan. He’d go back to Deep Haven, hit his knees, and beg his father for a job. Or maybe get on the horn to Jace, see if he could work as a trainer for the Blue Ox. Most of all, he’d prove to Raina, one day at a time, that he could be trusted to be a father—a real father who stuck around and protected her and Layla both.
And somewhere in there, he’d also prove to Scotty that they weren’t done.
“Casper, I mean it. I’ll tell you what I know, but I’m not going to do it until you stop pacing like a monkey in a cage.”
“I feel like a monkey!” Casper rounded on Scotty. “You have no idea what it felt like to be going through security, finally headed home after months on the road, and wham—there’s cops everywhere, jumping me, pulling me into another room. I felt like any second they’d throw me to the floor and frisk me. I thought I might get Tasered.”
“None of that happened,” Owen said, shaking his head as he glanced at Casper. “They simply asked us to step into another room, where we waited until the police showed up.”
“My shirt was rumpled.”
“That’s because you got up and demanded to know what was going on—and I grabbed it to keep you from doing something stupid. And then you started threatening people. No wonder the cops put you in cuffs. Sit down, Casper.” Owen turned to Scotty. “Ignore him; talk to me. What do you know?”
“Well, to be honest—Casper, take a deep breath—you’re wanted for questioning in connection to a homicide in Minnesota.” She said it calmly, like, Casper, you have a parking ticket. Or, Casper, you jaywalked.
Owen looked at him, trying to tamp down the smallest stir of vindication. “See, I’m not the villain in this story—you are. I’ve always known it, and now it’s time for the rest of your fans to catch up. Me: not the bad guy, just terribly misunderstood. You: bad guy. I can’t believe you pointed at me in the airport and said, ‘This is all on you, Bro.’ Good try. Who did you kill?”
Owen meant it as a joke, because, c’mon, Casper? Kill someone? Crazy. But he still enjoyed the teasing.
Casper didn’t laugh, didn’t smile. He looked pointedly at Scotty. “Who’s dead?”
“I placed a call to the Deep Haven Sheriff’s Department . . .” She looked at the file she’d returned with. “The victim’s name is Monte Riggs. That mean anything to you, Casper?”
As Owen watched, the blood drained from Casper’s face.
An icy hand slid down Owen’s spine. “Casper,” he said, suddenly solemn. “I was kidding. But I have the feeling you know him. Who is this guy? Is there something you’re not telling us?”
“No. I have nothing . . . I didn’t . . . He was Raina’s old boyfriend.”
Raina’s old . . . “What, before she met you? Wait, is this the same Monte Riggs whose family owns the antique shop?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t get it. I thought she was new to town when I met her.”
“She was but . . . Well, it’s a long story.”
“Apparently we have time.”
Casper’s mouth tightened into a grim line. “Fine. After I found out she was pregnant, I sort of freaked out and pushed her away. So she dated Monte Riggs.”
Silence.
Then Owen said, “I’m glad to know I’m not the only one who makes impulsively stupid decisions.”
“Which part of this was impulsively stupid? The part where I freaked out because the woman I loved was—”
“How about the part where the police think you killed her boyfriend? What did you do—beat him up too?”
“He was abusive with her.”
Owen stilled. Then he turned to Scotty. “I think we need a lawyer.”
“No! We don’t need a lawyer. I admit I thought about it—and yes, we got into a fight, but I would not—never—” Casper looked beseechingly at Scotty. “I did not kill Monte Riggs. There’s been a mistake.”
“Actually, Casper, the report just has you wanted for questioning—that’s what the BOLO is about. Go home, tell the truth, and I’m sure this will get cleared right up.”
That took the steam out of Casper. He sank back in his chair. “Fine. Of course I’ll go home. I was on my way—”
“Unfortunately, because you’ve been gone for nearly five months, even though the BOLO was filed a week ago, you’ve been listed as high risk. You need to be accompanied.”
Owen crossed his hands over his chest. “I love it. I’m the babysitter; you’re the high-risk fugitive. I knew it would come to this someday. Finally the world figuring out that Casper Christiansen isn’t a saint. What I’ve been saying since that time you buried all my trucks in the sandbox.”
“That was Darek.”
“A sweeter day has never arrived. Casper, the family criminal—”
“Hey!” Casper said.
“You’re not the babysitter,” Scotty said, hiding what looked like a smirk. “He has to be accompanied by a law enforcement agent.”
“Even sweeter.”
“What?”
“Aw, c’mon, Scotty. You know there’s more between us—and this is perfect. You can be his escort, come to Minnesota, meet my family . . . let me show you that this doesn’t have to be as complicated as you think.”
“Owen, I can’t just—”
“Yes, you can.”
“I don’t need anyone to accompany me,” Casper said. “I’m not going to run. I’m not the outlaw Josey Wales.”
“Don’t listen to him, Scotty. He’s a renegade. He’s got runner written all over him. Look at his eyes. He’s got Richard Kimble crazy eyes,” Owen said, leaning forward. He hid a wince as the bandages tightened around his chest.
Scotty was smiling now, and it brought him back to
the raft, to her eyes shining in his. Yes, this was better than handcuffs—a real reason for her to come home with him, where he could charm her with his small town, romance her by the lake, awaken her to everything that could be between them. He glanced at Casper. “Cuff him.”
“What—?” Casper half rose from his chair.
“Down, boys.” Scotty shook her head. “This is a monumentally bad idea; spending more time refereeing you two could kill me. Maybe I should send Dillon the rookie.”
“Dillon? Are you kidding me? Casper has two inches and fifty pounds on the guy. He’s no match for—”
“I’m not going to run away!”
“Besides, what if this is real and Casper did do something wrong?”
“Seriously?” Casper shook his head.
“Fine. What if he is accused of something? We’ll need someone on our side to help us untangle him.”
“I’m innocent. They don’t send innocent men to jail,” Casper said.
Even Scotty’s expression held something of incredulity.
Casper sat back, again turning a little white.
“What if he gets blamed? Scotty, we need you.” Owen paused, lowered his voice. “I might need you.”
That got her attention. She looked at him, frowned.
So he met her eyes and let his words escape slowly as if continuing the conversation they’d started on the raft so many days ago. “I . . . really . . . might need you.”
She made a face. “Owen, knock it off. I know I just walked out on you. You deserved better, and I regretted it the second I left. You deserved more explanation from me, like the fact that I did consider marrying you. My yes was real then. But when the light of day hit and everything shook out, I realized that I had been too impulsive, and so had you, and maybe we should just be happy with living through what we lived through and—”
“No, Scotty.” Owen stood and issued a groan because, wow, his pain meds were wearing off.
He sat back down.
“Are you all right?”
He covered his chest with his hand. “I was trying to do something gallant and make a grand gesture, but sadly, I’m still reduced to lying on the bottom of the raft, hoping you’ll save my life.”
“Please don’t hurt yourself.”
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