by Dana Mentink
“Name calling won’t get you anywhere. I’m doing exactly what Mick would want, and you know it.” He held fast.
“You can’t do this.” She gave a vicious yank.
Cooper only smiled, holding her as gently as he could. “Please, Ruby, stop pulling. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Anger clutched at her insides. “Cooper, stop it.”
His mood shifted suddenly, and he pulled her to his chest. Her heart hammered at the serious twist of his lips, inches from her own. “Listen to me,” he said, voice low and tense. “I’m bigger and stronger than you are. If you don’t have enough sense to keep safe, I will keep you here against your will.”
“Why?” she whispered, pulse roaring in her ears, the scent of whatever soap he used heady in her senses. “Why do you care what happens to me?”
He paused for a moment, the luscious depths of his eyes glimmering. “You’re worth caring about.” Then he kissed her hard and quick, enough to drive the breath out of her body before he pulled away.
She couldn’t have run from him then if she’d wanted to. Her knees felt like gelatin and sparks of electricity shot through her body. There was no time to rally her senses as her brother jogged back into the clearing. Cooper rose and helped Ruby up. She wondered if he noticed the trembling in her fingers.
Mick fisted his hands on his hips. “He’s gone. Or she. Didn’t get a good look through the helmet.”
Cooper stared. “Helmet?”
“Yeah. He was getting on an old motorcycle when I caught up.”
“I noticed one on the way to the hospital. It could be a coincidence,” Cooper mused.
Mick frowned. “In my experience, not much turns out to be coincidence in the end.”
Ruby walked to the spot where Mick had laid the little kestrel. “But why shoot the bird? Why do that?”
“The intruder comes here to find the locket. Spooks the bird who flies out of the nest to defend her young.” Cooper paused. “Does that sound right? Would a kestrel do that?”
“If they felt their nest was being threatened.” Ruby could not take her eyes away from the poor bird. “But how did the guy know to come here? Why here? Why now?” The haunting conversation with Josephine came back to her. I left it in the hiding place, like I told him.
Ruby stared at Cooper. “Josephine told her visitor about the locket’s hiding place, too.”
“Think it could have been Lester? Maybe he’s determined to have back what belonged to his daughter.”
Mick grimaced. “I know he’s got no regard for bird life.”
“That’s right. I remember when you got into an argument with Lester about the eagles.” Ruby tried to recall the details.
“He was taking shots at our eagles. Looking to sell the feathers.”
“I thought it was illegal to sell eagle feathers.”
“It is, unless you’ve got a permit. Some Native American tribes are allowed, but the demand outstrips the supply. Feathers figure prominently in many ceremonial costumes.” Mick frowned. “I went to see Lester years ago, before Alice disappeared, and told him if he ever took a shot at our eagles again, I’d turn him in and he’d do prison time and get fined.”
“Things got ugly from there?”
“Yeah. We wound up in a fistfight.”
“The night before Alice was taken,” Ruby said softly.
“Which is why you were a suspect, too,” Cooper said. “Before the suspicion shifted to my brother.”
Ruby’s stomach clenched as her sibling’s face went dark. “He was cleared. Both my father and Molly vouched that Mick had driven to the edge of the property to clear a creek clogged up by the beavers.”
Cooper remained silent, but Ruby could imagine his thoughts. A father and devoted family friend are not unbiased. Cooper and Mick stared at each other until Ruby could stand it no more.
“I’m going to see if the locket is inside. Are you two coming with me or not?”
Mick headed directly for the ruined entrance. Cooper followed without comment.
The air inside the dilapidated structure was cold, the light filtering through the broken stone walls cast flickering shadows like dark serpents over the floor. Scraps of iron and broken boards, spongy with rot, exuded a tang into the air. Try as she might, Ruby could not summon up the childish imagination she’d employed with Alice all those years ago. It was no longer a pirate ship, just a broken, forgotten place.
Alice, her heart cried out, remembering the little girl who had trusted her. Tears sprang into her eyes, and she froze, feet rooted to the cold floor.
“Bee?” Mick inquired. “Can’t you remember where the hiding place is?”
“I remember,” she whispered. Memories washed through her: innocent games, happy conversations, chocolate chip cookie snacks packed by Josephine Walker to be shared with Ruby. Then came fresher recollections: a lonely cave, the stark white of bones, the love that still shone in Josephine’s eyes for a child who would never return.
Cooper moved close, placing his hand softly, ever so softly, on her shoulder. “You don’t have to do this. Tell me where, and I’ll find it. You can wait in the truck.”
His voice was tender, as if he understood the anguish.
She swallowed hard. “No. Alice was my friend and I’m going to do what I can for her.” Even if it’s too late. She walked to the corner where a section of the wall stood strong against the elements. At the bottom was a little metal plate, the door of a small alcove set into the wall for some purpose she would never know. She pulled it aside. With fingers gone cold, she reached into the dark nook.
* * *
Cooper pushed forward, but Mick’s wide shoulders blocked his view. He had to wait until Ruby stood up, brushing dirt off her jeans.
The defeat in her face told the story. Ruby wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “It’s empty. If the locket was there, it’s not anymore. Maybe the shooter took it, or Josephine was confused.”
“It’s all right. We have more information to tell the Sheriff when they finish...” Cooper broke off, recalling the sad mission the police were currently enacting. “When they’re available.”
They trudged to the car and Mick began to paw through the piles of twisted metal that dotted the ground. “I’ll find something to dig a hole with and bury the bird.”
Ruby craned her neck. “Babies,” she murmured. “This is the right time of year.”
“Will the father be able to feed them on his own?”
“He’ll have to work hard, especially if there’s a big clutch, but it can be done. What I’m worried about are feathers. If the babies aren’t old enough to keep themselves warm, they’ll die of the cold while he’s gone looking for food.” She worried her lower lip between her teeth. “There may not be any babies at all, but if there are...” Her voice wobbled. “I can’t stand the thought of them dying because their mother is gone.”
The stricken look pierced Cooper’s heart. “So I guess you need to know.”
She shot him a look. “We’ll go back to the house. Mick and I can drive up here again and we’ll bring a ladder. We can probably do it by nightfall.”
“I can save you a trip.” Cooper walked to the pole holding the nesting box and began to shimmy up. Fortunately, he was still able to channel some of his eighth-grade PE skills. He was gratified to hear Ruby’s gasp of surprise. The wood was rough, and he was glad the denim of his jeans protected his legs from splinters. Tiny shards of wood pierced his hands, no matter how carefully he grasped the old pole, but he wouldn’t let her see him flinch. Sweat beaded his forehead as he climbed.
“I hear peeping,” he called down.
“Be careful.”
He kept going, one painful foot at a time. The discomfort would pass but if he could help keep this little bird fa
mily alive, it would somehow lighten the weight that Ruby was carrying around. The way she cared for the fragile creatures touched something inside him. He continued inching upward until he reached the hole and peered in. It was too dark to see, so he freed his cell phone from his back pocket and shone the light inside. Fuzzy heads on wobbly necks popped up to look back at him.
“I see two, no three babies.” They began to wriggle and open their pale beaks wide. “Sorry, kiddos. I forgot to bring some worms along.”
They started up some plaintive cheeping.
“Have they got feathers yet?” Ruby yelled up.
“Lots of gray fuzz and some patches of brown. What’s your cell number?”
She laughed. “Odd time to be asking me for my number.” She yelled it up anyway. He took a picture and texted it to her.
She scrutinized the photo. “They can stay warm. I’m so relieved.”
He sighed. “Me, too.” He’d been worrying about how to transport three baby kestrels down the pole without squashing them. “Okay, little fuzzy dudes. You take care of each other and wait for Papa. He’ll have some grub for you.”
Gingerly, he eased himself back down to the ground where Ruby squeezed him in a tight hug.
“Thank you. That was incredible, what you did.”
He clutched her to him for a moment longer, wishing he could surprise her with another kiss. Frankly the earlier kiss had been an impulse he hadn’t seen coming and he knew he’d shocked her, but the memory of it stuck with him. The shock of being shot at?
Ruby took his hand and examined the palms. “Splinters. Sit down. I’ve got a first aid kit in the car.”
He was going to tell her not to bother, but deep down he enjoyed the feel of her soft hand cradling his so he sat on a nearby stump until she joined him, grasping his fingers, armed with tweezers.
A frown of concentration creased her brow as she worked. The sunlight was waning, the rays dappling her hair with amber fire.
“Ouch,” he said, flinching, as she applied a disinfectant wipe.
“Sorry. You’re really good at climbing poles.”
He grinned. “Like every other boy in America, I thought I wanted to be a firefighter. Seemed like learning about climbing would be a good place to start.”
Her smile was perfect, breathtaking. “But you decided on botany instead?”
“I’d rather watch things grow up than burn down.”
She bent over his hand again, and he could not resist caressing the luminous crown of her head with his free palm.
She tipped her face up, so his hand now cupped her cheek. Her lips were parted, perfect, tempting him like the rarest flower in the forest. He moved closer, willing her mouth closer to his.
A loud clearing of the throat made Ruby jump to her feet. Her brother, Mick, held a shovel, broken at the top. “I’ve dug the hole. Do you want to bury the kestrel?”
The dark look on Mick’s face made Cooper think the bird wasn’t the only thing he’d like to bury. He remained seated while Ruby laid the little bird tenderly in the grave. All the while, Mick’s eyes remained fastened on Cooper.
Mick was a dangerous man.
With a sister as beautiful as Ruby, he had good reason.
Cooper returned Mick’s glare with a casual smile.
Deal with it, Mick.
THIRTEEN
Cooper’s chronic insomnia and thoughts of Ruby Hudson increased the deep fatigue that consumed him. He collapsed onto the lumpy mattress in the bedroom he’d claimed and didn’t awaken until his internal body clock told him the sun had almost risen. He cracked an eyeball and tried to sort out the noises filtering through the cabin.
Rattling pipes indicated the shower was in operation. Peter, preparing to go to work. The rush of shame came back to him as he recalled the disastrous conclusion he’d jumped to the previous day. He’d apologized at the café. He felt the urge to do so a second time, to mend the damage he knew he’d inflicted.
Then anger won out again. If you hadn’t failed me so many times before, brother, I wouldn’t distrust you now. Anger, guilt, love and all the other emotions that came from living with an alcoholic bubbled together. Would he ever find peace? Only when Peter latched on to sobriety so tightly that it drove the doubt away. It was possible that day would never come. Through clenched teeth, he muttered the millionth prayer that his brother would have the strength. There was the murmur of conversation from the living room. Company?
His phone told him it was not yet six. In the same sweatpants and Smokey Bear shirt he’d slept in, he padded out to find Hank Bradford, talking in hushed tones on his cell phone. Hank’s back was to Cooper.
“It wasn’t my idea to come back here either,” Hank snapped. “It won’t be for long.” He paused. “I know it makes you uncomfortable, but no one will find out. They’d better not.” There was a note of menace in this last phrase as Cooper cleared his throat to announce his presence.
Hank whirled around, mouth open in surprise. He clicked off the phone. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were there.”
Cooper folded his arms. “Believe it or not, I live here, at least for a few weeks.”
“Of course. Peter’s car wouldn’t start, so I came to give him a lift to work.”
Cooper arched an eyebrow. “That’s nice of you.”
“Not really nice, more self-serving. He’s our only dishwasher on duty for the breakfast service. Other one called in sick.”
Cooper considered. Should he pretend like he hadn’t overheard Hank’s conversation? It would be the polite thing to do, but he was beyond being polite. Peter was heavily involved with the Bradfords, and Cooper wanted to know if they should be counted as friend or foe. “I’m sorry for intruding on your conversation. It sounds like you aren’t altogether happy to be hanging out in Silver Peak again.”
Hank was silent for a moment. “I’m not. Too many bad memories here, but I love my daughter and she’s knee-deep in this Alice Walker investigation. I don’t want her to get hurt and I’m here to make sure that doesn’t happen. She’s fond of Peter so I guess I’m taking him under my wing, too.”
“And you don’t want anyone to find out the truth.” Cooper watched the flash of emotion flame up in Hank’s eyes. “Sorry, but I heard that part, too.”
“Good ears.” Hank sighed. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of. Sometimes you can’t just walk away from that.”
Cooper played out his hunch. “Walk away from that...or walk away from her?”
Hank started. “How did you know I was talking to a woman?”
“Just a guess. Part of your old business was an affair with Molly Pickford, wasn’t it?”
His eyes narrowed. “I shouldn’t be surprised that it’s common knowledge.”
“Sheriff Pickford doesn’t trust you around his wife.”
“Sheriff doesn’t trust anyone, but sometimes he’s right not to trust people.” A shimmer in Hank’s eyes, of guilt? Longing? Triumph?
“Are you and Molly involved again?”
Hank shoved his phone into his back pocket. “I don’t think that’s any of your business, now is it?”
Hank was right; it wasn’t.
Peter came in, hair damp and cleanly shaven. “Sorry. Woke up late.”
Hank nodded. “I’ll wait for you in the car.” He slammed the door behind him.
“Did you bother him?”
“Probably. I think he’s having an affair with Molly Pickford again.”
“Sheriff’s wife? Nah. That’s old news. He’s involved with some other lady. Heard them talking on the phone a bunch of times and anyway, that isn’t your business.”
“You’re not the first to say so, but Pickford and Hank are enemies. I don’t want to have you caught up in that.”
Peter st
raightened, a good inch taller than Cooper. “It’s not your job to look out for me. Bad enough you embarrassed me in front of Heather.”
“I apologized for that.”
“Why do I get the feeling that I could cure cancer and negotiate world peace and you still wouldn’t believe I had my life straightened out?”
Cooper’s gut tightened. “I have reasons for distrust. So does Mom.”
His brother slouched, shoulders slumped. “Yeah, I guess you do. This time I want to prove to you and Mom that I’m gonna make it but...”
“But what?”
He smiled, the textbook charming Peter grin. “Ah, nothing. Just got baggage is all. It’s heavy.”
“Always is.”
Peter put Cooper in a good-natured headlock and rubbed his knuckles hard across Cooper’s head until he pulled away.
“Gotta go, bro. There’s a big pile of dishes with my name on it.”
Cooper watched out the front door as Peter got into Hank’s car and they drove away.
It was a glorious spring day, the sky clear of clouds except for a cluster in the distance in the direction of Sunstone Lake, which was now home to a crime scene. A chill clawed at his stomach as he closed the cabin door.
* * *
Ruby clicked off the phone, her mind boggled at her own boldness. What had spurred her to call Cooper and ask if he would like to hike with her up to the old mill to check on the baby kestrels? Mick would have gone, but for some reason she had not asked him. Perhaps she wanted to distract her mind from thinking about what the police had removed from the cave, and Cooper was just the person to do it. Maybe it was the light and easy feeling she’d gotten hiking with Cooper before, as if he understood her. The kiss rolled through her memory, once again bringing the heat to her cheeks.
“Feeling okay?” Perry looked up from his pencil sketch.
“Sure, yes. Just tired.” She’d stayed up until nearly one o’clock explaining to her father everything that had transpired, after phoning the police station to tell them about the gunshots. “Going to town today?”
