by Jillian Hart
“Me? I thought I’d gotten rid of that. I’ve lived in the West so long, it’s practically gone.” He shook his head when Alice offered him the creamer. He lifted the steaming cup of coffee by his plate and sipped. Savored. Swallowed. “Sure is good, ma’am. I’m from West Virginia.”
“Goodness. That sure is a long ways from here. Did you live there long?”
“Born and raised.” Brody dug into the delicious-looking hash browns—so buttery and golden crisp and made from real shredded potatoes. He took it as another sign he was on the right path. “I’m a country boy at heart, even though I moved to the city when I was twelve.”
“Was that in West Virginia, too?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He felt the steel around his heart harden. There were a lot of things he didn’t like to think too much about. Spending his teen years in a boys’ home for lack of foster care was one of them. He cleared his throat, tried to keep his mind focused. To not let the sadness of his past effect the quality of his present life.
“Mom, you’re being nosy again.” Michelle’s eyes sparkled with those little glints of blue sapphire that could captivate the most professional, dedicated agent. “You don’t have to give us your life history. Where are you headed next when you get your bike?”
“I don’t rightly know.” That was the truth. He was ready to go on about how he’d be heading up to Glacier, that was the background story he’d hatched up, but the truth sidetracked him.
He had vague ideas about what he wanted to do when he left, but he didn’t have a set plan. It bothered him. The past ten years at the Bureau had been demanding work—long hard hours, constant travel, tough assignments and dangerous missions.
It wore on a man. Chiseled at his soul.
He believed in the power of prayer. He figured he’d leave it in God’s hands. That the good Lord would point him in the right direction.
“Surely you have family back in West Virginia. You’re eventually headed back there?” Alice McKaslin prompted.
“I don’t have any family.”
“What? No family?” Tenderhearted Michelle sat wide-eyed, watching him carefully.
His heart stopped beating. Why was he reacting to her this way? Just because she looked like everything right in the world, with her hair tied back in that bouncy ponytail and her honest face more beautiful without a hint of makeup, it didn’t mean that he should notice her.
He was on a mission. He needed to stay focused.
Right. His mission. Where was he? What did he need to do? Oh, that’s right. You’d think he was a green agent getting his feet wet on his first assignment with the way he was acting. Good thing the surveillance equipment wasn’t installed yet or Hunter would be getting a good laugh about now.
Focus, Agent Brody. Focus. He took a big bite of delicious scrambled eggs, getting a good rein on his thoughts while he chewed.
Alice McKaslin focused on her daughter. “You be sure and tell Nora that I say hello. I’ve missed her at the Ladies’ Aid. I hardly see her now that she’s busy with her new grandbabies.”
“Here it comes again.” Michelle rolled her eyes, as if she knew exactly where her mother was going with this. “I know, only two of your daughters are married, with only one baby between them.”
“It’s not right, that’s what! I raised you girls better than that. I want grandchildren.” Alice McKaslin’s eyes were twinkling as she held back a dignified smile. “Nora has three grandchildren of her own, and three step-grandchildren.”
“It’s a hint. Like I’m supposed to be desperate enough to marry Bart, the farmer guy next door, who keeps trying to ask me out. Just so she can have a few more grandchildren to cuddle. As if!”
Alice gave him the eye. “And tell me why it is you haven’t married? You’d think a man your age would want to settle down and have a family.”
“I haven’t met the right woman yet.” Why did his gaze flick to Michelle?
“So, you’re looking?” Alice gave him a careful nod, as if he maybe—just maybe—might pass muster with her.
“Looking, but it’s tricky to find the right match. Someone who is right for you in every way.” And wasn’t that a little too personal? It took all his will-power not to look at Michelle, even though he felt the power of her presence as tangible as the floor at his feet. As the bandage on his forehead.
Time for a change of subject. “So, Michelle. I bet you’re a good stylist.”
“I do my best, but as I mentioned yesterday it takes a long time to get a good clientele built up. Especially in a town where you grew up in and everybody remembers every dumb thing you ever did.”
“You don’t look as if you could do one dumb thing.”
Alice coughed delicately into her hand. “You don’t know our Michelle.”
Michelle rolled her eyes in mock agony as she scooped her serving of eggs on one slice of toast. “You turn your sister’s hair green once and nobody forgets it. Three years later, and people are still saying, ‘Now don’t you go turning my hair green like you did your sister’s.’”
Brody struggled not to laugh. That wasn’t in his Intel report.
“And these are people of faith! You’d think they’d know how to forgive. I’m never going to live it down. When I’m an old maid of sixty-nine trying to build up to full-time, people are still going to be talking about it.”
“Haven’t I always said a girl’s reputation is beyond price?” Her mom actually smiled.
Michelle’s fork tumbled from her fingers. Her mother had had a difficult time with depression since Allison’s death. And to see her looking almost happy made Michelle want to jump up and give thanks.
She recovered her fork instead, choosing to thank the Lord quietly, and she rolled her eyes again when she saw Brody watching her with a quirked brow and a crooked grin. “All right, I am a little klutzy. I’ve been rumored to be a walking disaster, but those tales are largely exaggerated.”
“I’m glad to hear it. When I was driving up this way, folks would warn me about this blond-haired woman who lived north of Manhattan who was an F-5 tornado disaster. To keep clear of her. I can see I wasn’t spared, even when I was trying to pass you on the highway.”
“Ha ha. I had nothing to do with your accident.”
“Tell that to my lawyer.” He winked.
“I’ll settle out of court, as long as you agree to let me keep my shoe collection.”
“That’s her entire net worth,” her mom quipped.
“That’s not true. Well, almost.” Michelle thought of her impulse purchases upstairs, still in their original boxes. What a shame she hadn’t time to add them to her closet. She felt a pinch of remorse, but she’d worry about her budget later.
“Speaking of which, I’ve got to shower and change if I don’t wanna be late!” Michelle stuffed two strips of bacon on her eggs on toast and folded it over into a sandwich.
Well, there was no more procrastinating, no way to draw out the morning. There was a handsome stranger at her kitchen table and she had to go. It was her Christian duty, of course, to help him as much as she could, right? “Do you want to ride to town with me?”
“I’m not so sure. I was hoping that before your family booted me out on my ear, I’d be able to repay their hospitality.” Brody wiped his plate clean with the last of his toast. “Is there anything I can do around here, Mrs. McKaslin? Something your husband is too busy running the farm to do for you?”
“Oh, my dear man. You have no idea!” Her mom lit up like a thousand-watt bulb. “But you’re injured. You couldn’t possibly do much.”
“My ankle’s wrapped. I’m a quick healer.”
Brody’s wink made Michelle shiver. All the way to her toes. Wasn’t it just too bad he might be hanging around for a little while longer? “Put him to work and make him suffer, Mom. I have a feeling he deserves it.”
“Me? What did I do?” But he was chuckling, a warm rich wonderful sound that could make a girl dream.
“Later.”
She escaped while she could, dashing up the stairs and trying not to think of the…possibilities.
Chapter Five
Hunter didn’t bother to say hello, he picked up the phone in the middle of the first ring. “You’re late checking in, buddy.”
“Sorry about that. Unavoidable.” Brody, with the phone tucked in one hand, carried the full can of paint out of the corner of the garage and into the shade outside. “Mrs. McKaslin has me busy. I’ve changed lightbulbs, repaired a window blind, fixed the ice maker on the refrigerator and now I’m painting their garage.”
“All of that, and it’s not five o’clock yet?”
“Their day starts at 4:30 a.m.”
“Wicked.” Hunter laughed. “Still hangin’ in there? How’s your ankle?”
“Killing me, but that’s okay. I’ll ice it tonight. It’s endeared me to Mrs. McKaslin. She baked me a chocolate cake.”
“Couldn’t do better. Look, I’ve got the drop taken care of. The surveillance equipment is in a storage place just east of town. I’ll leave a starter bag on your balcony some time after dark.”
“Good. It sounds like most of the family is going to be gone. It’s Friday night. The missus has a church function, which her husband will be showing up to later. Michelle probably has a date. The way Alice talked, she worried that I’d be on my own.”
“We shouldn’t have any problem. If you can handle it on your end, I’ll set up a tail on Mick. I’m pulling some agents from the Bozeman office to help me out.”
“All two of them?” It was a small office, and in a small population base they had to worry about being recognized. A stranger’s face stuck out in a small town. So did a strange vehicle tailing a suspect on a road with no traffic for miles. “I called the mechanic in town. He’s got a part coming overnight, and I should have my wheels back soon.”
“That’s one problem solved. Be careful tonight, Brody.” Hunter turned serious. “Remember the Misu Flats case? Started out like this, nice as pie. Sweet grandmother type who surprised us by sending two hired hit men to kill us in our sleep.”
“I get the hint. You be careful, too, buddy.” He heard the sound of a rattling engine and he signed off. Tucked the phone in the back pocket of his cut-offs and went to work removing the empty can and replacing it with the full one.
Michelle, he figured, without turning around, and wasn’t surprised when her vehicle pulled into the carport on the other side of the garage.
“Careful!” He called out when he heard the hinges of the truck’s door squeak open. “Wet paint.”
“Mom has been putting you to work. Are you sure you’re up to this?” Michelle’s sandals clacked on the concrete. The sound of plastic bags rustling had him looking up.
And admiring the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. He’d seen beauty—who hadn’t?—but deep down loveliness, the kind that came from within, was something a man didn’t come across every day.
Her hair was tied back in a single decorative braid, and her short, wispy bangs framed her face. She wore little makeup, just on her lashes so thick and long, and a hint of color on her lips. Fresh-faced and lovely, she smiled her genuine smile.
The kind without guile. Without guilt. Without falsehood. The kind he didn’t see too often in his line of work.
He snagged the empty paint can and headed her way. “What? You’re concerned about me now, are ya? Wasn’t it you who said that I deserved to be put to work and made to suffer?”
“Sure, what man doesn’t?” Trouble twinkled in her eyes.
He could be trouble, too. “I suppose it’s a woman’s duty in life to make a man suffer.”
“Sure, it is. What else are men for?”
“Changing lightbulbs. Painting garages. Making credit card payments.”
“Exactly. Oh, you missed a spot.”
“Thanks. I wouldn’t have noticed that spot being half of the entire wall without you.”
“Happy I could help.” She slid her sunglasses on and clicked away, her shopping bags rustling.
“Got any food in there for me?” he called after her.
She didn’t even turn around. “Nope. We planned on starving you.”
Why was he laughing? Why was he feeling like he was not on assignment?
Get back to work, Brody, and stop flirting with the pretty lady. That was easier said than done, he thought, as he climbed the ladder. But he had painting to do, and a counterfeit money ring to break.
Was that the phone? Michelle tugged off the towel wrapped around her head. Her hair was still wet from a quick shower, and the terry cloth made it hard to hear.
The loud brring from downstairs confirmed it. In bare feet and with her hair all tangly and without a speck of makeup, she tore down the hall and down the stairs in time for the ringing to stop.
That’s why the good Lord had invented caller ID. She checked the number on the little white box in the kitchen. She dialed and waited, figuring that Karen, her older sister, had called to ask what to bring tonight. Karen was like that, conscientious and wonderful, and Michelle missed having her around all the time. She didn’t see Karen as much now that she’d had the baby and was only working part-time at the coffee shop, which she owned.
Karen answered on the first ring. “There you are! I was just about to try the coffee shop.”
“Nope, I closed up. No problems.” Michelle planted her elbows on the kitchen island and leaned forward, trying to get the best view out the window. If she looked just right, maybe she could see Brody. “Are you ready to get the socks beat off you tonight?”
“I wish, but that’s why I’m calling.”
“What?”
“I just got back from the clinic with the baby. Allie’s got an ear infection and we can’t come tonight. I’m sorry.”
“Is she all right?” Michelle tried to set aside her disappointment. Her baby niece was ill, and that was what truly mattered.
“I’ve got some medicine in her, and Zach’s rocking her. She’s almost asleep.” Affection and concern warred in Karen’s voice. “The doctor assured me she’ll be fine. I just worry.”
“Me, too.” Michelle thought of her precious little niece, so tiny and vulnerable. It was really something how families were made, children grew up and the cycle continued; sure, it was obvious, but the reassurance of it was like a piece of beauty in her life.
“Do you need me to do anything? I could run to the store, if you need me to. Come over if you need a volunteer to rock her.”
“Thanks, sweetie. I’ll let you know if we need you. Have a good time tonight and know I’m missing you all.”
“Not half as much as we’ll miss you. Give Allie a kiss for me.”
The beep of the phone’s off button echoed in the too-quiet kitchen. It was a big room. It was a big house. She felt so alone in it.
If she listened hard enough she could hear the echoes of memories, of good times. The morning sun streaking through the window as six girls dashed around the kitchen. Mom at the stove shouting orders. Dad trying to read his paper in peace.
There were arguments and chaos and laughter and inevitably a spilled glass of milk or juice. The squeals when Mom shouted out the time. “The bus’ll be here any minute. You girls are going to be late if you don’t hurry up!”
And they’d all squeal again, racing to find shoes, hair ribbons, library books or whatever else in the last flurry before they all shoved out the back door.
And now the house was so quiet. Sadness ached like a sore tooth inside her as she headed back upstairs, taking the phone with her. For everything there is a season, the Bible said, but the changing of those seasons brought with it a loss. Was what lay before her as good and as happy as the times behind?
As if in answer, the back door thudded closed, and the sound drummed through the house. Was it Kirby? Or Kendra? Maybe it was Brody. She couldn’t let him see her like this. Not again. She had to at least get her hair combed!
Yep, it was Brody, she figured, when no si
ster paraded through the house in search of her. In her room, Michelle ran a brush through her tangled locks, took some curly gel stuff and scrunched it into her hair and went in search of her favorite lipstick. Of course, it was downstairs. With her purse. She’d have to make do with Plum Sunrise. She grabbed the tube and applied it, hands trembling.
Okay, she had to admit she’d been hatching a plan all day. It had undergone many revisions, but she’d settled on one. To invite Brody to join them tonight, of course. She’d gotten an extra pizza, with the works on it, because he didn’t look like a plain-cheese-pizza kind of guy.
Brody rinsed out the sprayer hose, put away the ladder and groaned on his way toward the family’s two-story ranch house with the wide front porch and Victorian charm. Although Alice McKaslin had run off to her church meeting, she’d promised there were leftovers in the refrigerator he could help himself to. To make himself at home, use their large-screen television with the satellite dish. She’d said he’d certainly earned it with all his work today.
Work? Well, he was pleasantly tired as he rapped his knuckles on the back screen door. No answer, but he went in anyway. Michelle was probably upstairs. He’d grab some ice and put up his feet and rest his ankle for a bit. See what happened from there.
He heard the phone ring, shrilling in the empty, spacious kitchen. The handset was gone, so he sidled close to where the base sat tucked at the end of the kitchen’s breakfast bar. He peeked at the caller ID box. Kirby and Sam Gardner. He recognized that name. Another one of Michelle’s older sisters, married and living in town.
The ringing stopped. He could hear the distant rise and fall of Michelle’s cheerful voice from her room upstairs. He knew the name because he’d gotten a good look at the house while doing handiwork for Alice McKaslin today. Curious, he hit the caller ID’s back button and read the list of names. There were names he recognized; one was the name and number on his suspect list. Lars Collins.
The question was, who had made that call to Lars? He’d requested phone records, and he was still waiting on the warrant. He knew there were possibly other calls. Mick had so far made no long-distance calls from his current phone. Were more of the McKaslins involved? Or was Mick using this phone, wise enough to use different phones.
