Empty. No car. No Braham. Nothing. She slammed the door. A chill seeped into her bones. Where could he have gone? Her cell phone rang. She ran back through the house to get it. Jack’s name flashed on the caller ID.
“Hey, have you heard from Braham?” she asked.
“No, which is why I was calling. To see how he’s doing.”
“I’ve searched the house, he’s not here, and neither is the car. The pizza money is also gone.” She tried to keep her rising anxiety under control. It wasn’t working. “He could be in a ditch dying.”
“Don’t get your panties in a wad,” Jack said. “It’s easy enough to find him. Hold on and let me turn on my Mac. Both of our cars have tracking devices.”
“What? Why?”
“Call me paranoid, but the thought of a stalker harassing either one of us was not a pleasant one. I decided to take precautions.”
“Where could he have gone? If he went out driving, he would have left the lights on in the house. But it was dark when I came in.” She closed the front door and paced. “What’s taking you so long?”
“Relax. Go pour a drink. Just another minute or two.”
Charlotte went back to the library, poured a whisky, and sipped. She pulled the rubber band out of her hair and gave her scalp a brisk finger massage. “I don’t even see the cat.”
“The cat’s probably in the barn, and Braham’s in Lexington.”
“He’s where?”
Nothing but her own strong will was holding her together at the moment. “He’s lost his frigging mind. He drove a hundred and thirty-something miles. Are you kidding?”
“Lexington, Kentucky, sis. Not Virginia. He drove five hundred miles.”
“He’s never driven a car before and he drove to Kentucky? Who is this guy? Superman?”
Jack let out a rumble of a laugh. “He’s got balls. I’ll give him that.”
She wasn’t much of a judge when it came to male genitalia, but yep, the guy definitely had balls. “Why’d he go to Lexington?”
“Well…he’s at MacKlenna Farm. I’ll let you hazard a guess.”
She shook her head, shoving her annoyingly curly, now-disheveled hair off her face. “If he wanted to go to the farm, why didn’t he ask one of us to take him? We would have been happy to go ourselves. Are you going to call the Fraser guy?”
“No. I don’t want to show our hand. Braham doesn’t know we know where he is. I’d like to keep him in the dark until I show up at the farm tomorrow.”
“Until we show up. I’m going, too. Do you think this is about returning to his time? If so, running away won’t get him home.”
“Only one way to find out. I’m going to book a flight out of Atlanta to Lexington, leaving first thing in the morning. Can you get away?”
“I’ll have to make some phone calls, but I can probably work it out. I don’t know how soon I can get a flight leaving Richmond, though.”
“Call Richmond Private Jet Charter and schedule a flight. We’ll need return transportation anyway. I’ll text you the number.”
“What about my car?”
“We’ll pay someone to drive it back. See how quickly the charter company can get you out in the morning and then call me back.”
She dialed the number in Jack’s text and was told it would cost a premium for an early-morning flight. She decided to let Jack negotiate a reduced rate later and booked the flight.
He called her before she could call him back. “What’d you find out?”
She drew circles and squares around the notes she’d made on a yellow legal pad. “They can get me to Lexington by seven in the morning. What about you?”
“Seven thirty. I’ll reserve a rental car. Get some sleep and try not to worry. We know he’s safe.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Yep. Night, sis, and remember—”
She drew a huge circle around Braham’s name, which she’d written in big bubble letters. “I know. Worrying doesn’t take away tomorrow’s sorrows, it only steals today’s strength. And at this point, I don’t have much to spare. Good night.”
24
MacKlenna Farm, Lexington, Kentucky, Present Day
Charlotte arrived at Lexington Bluegrass Airport at seven sharp. She’d only had a couple of hours of sleep, and one of those hours had been on the flight. A whole range of emotions had plagued her during those sleepless hours.
Although she was angry and hurt, guilt topped the list. She never should have left Braham alone. She had time available to take off work, yet she had left him to his own devices because of her obsessive-compulsive need to be at the hospital. If Braham had tried to explain to the Frasers who he was, they probably had him arrested. She and Jack might be spending the day trying to get him out of either jail or a mental hospital.
At baggage claim, near the terminal’s exit, she sat ramrod-straight in an uncomfortable molded plastic chair, fidgeting because Jack’s flight had been delayed thirty minutes. She tapped her foot and cursed under her breath with her mobile phone in the left hand while typing one-handed on her iPad with the other. Communications from staff filled her in-box, but nothing from Braham. She laughed then. He couldn’t send her an email. He didn’t have a computer, and he didn’t know her address. And what would he say?
Hi, Charlotte. I stole your car and drove to Kentucky.
Someone tapped her on the shoulder. “You ready?”
She jerked her head up to see her brother. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know your plane had landed.”
His eyes widened in frank appreciation. He hadn’t shaved yet, and the stubble rasped when he scratched his chin. “So, what’s up with the dress? I haven’t seen you in anything other than jeans or scrubs in months.”
She shrugged. “Thought if I was going to pay for a private plane, I should at least look like I could afford it.”
He held out his hand. “You can afford it. You have millions and never spend a dime. But give me the bill. I’m working a story angle, so it’s a business deduction for me.”
She slapped the receipt into his hand. “Gladly. It’s all yours. You make more money than I do.” She snapped her iPad cover shut and shoved it into her bag, and they headed over to the car rental office. “Do you have a plan for today? Are we going to treat Braham like a recalcitrant child?”
“Wouldn’t work,” Jack said. “We’ll have to play it by ear. It depends on what he’s told them.”
“I doubt he’s told them the truth. He’ll probably tell them his ancestor and Meredith’s ancestor were business partners, and he was in town visiting and wanted to meet her. At least it’s what I’d say.”
As usual, every woman they passed gave Jack a once-over. He was movie-star handsome, but he could be a jerk.
“Slow down before I twist my ankle.”
He glanced down at her feet. “You’re wearing four-inch heels. You’re liable to not only twist your ankle but break your neck.” Jack’s phone beeped with a text message. He read the message and returned the device to his inside jacket pocket. “Have you thought about what you’re going to say to Braham when you see him? Probably not. Which is why you’re all dressed up.” Jack eyed her closely. “You’re even wearing mascara. Charlotte has a boyfriend.”
Her face heated. “Stop it. Why do you like to embarrass me?”
“Because it’s fun.”
“I think it’s bullying. And I didn’t dress up for him, but I do have a few well-chosen expletives written down.”
Jack held the door to the car rental office open for her. “Your vocabulary doesn’t extend beyond two four-letter words—damn and hell. Maybe you should practice them on me first. Let me hear them. Give me your best shot.”
She gestured with her middle finger, hiding it behind her purse so only he could see.
Jack threw back his head laughing.
Fifteen minutes later they were pulling out of the airport in a rental car. “What’s the address?” Charlotte asked.
He handed
her a sheet a paper. “Enter this into your phone and tell me where to go.”
They followed the directions to New Circle Road and exited on Old Frankfort Pike. “This road is beautiful. The rolling hills and white plank fences remind me of Virginia.”
“Until 1792, it was Virginia.” Jack drove slowly so he could enjoy the view along with her.
“How long has MacKlenna Farm been in the family?” she asked.
“It went bankrupt a few years ago and Fraser bought it out of bankruptcy.”
“How sad it’s not in the family now,” she said.
“Well, it still is, sort of. Fraser’s ten-times-great-grandfather was the illegitimate son of James Thomas MacKlenna, who founded the farm.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” she said. “How’d they ever figure it out? They had to at least go back to the seventeen hundreds.”
“The article I read last night said Meredith discovered the connection while she was doing genealogy research in Edinburgh. James Thomas MacKlenna immigrated to America and fought in the American Revolution. He was given the land as payment. He then returned to Scotland, where his brothers and sisters lived. He married and had a son, Thomas, who came to America and started MacKlenna Farm.”
“I wonder if there’re any records in Ireland about the parents of the Mallorys who started our plantation.”
“If anyone ever traced the family, I never heard about it, or never heard anything other than the Mallorys were Ulster Scots.”
“What are Ulster Scots?”
“Presbyterians from lowland Scotland who settled in Ulster and subsequently immigrated to America.”
“Hmm. You know what we need? An Aunt Mimi.”
“A what?”
“I have a friend who has an Aunt Mimi. She’s the family genealogist and has given all her siblings a binder with their entire family history. It’s pretty cool.”
“Maybe you can hire her to trace the Mallorys.”
“I’ll ask.” Charlotte’s phone beeped and she checked the message. The office was confirming she’d be back tomorrow for her appointments. She responded quickly and turned off her phone. She didn’t want any interruptions when she met with the Frasers. She rolled down her window to breathe in the cool, crisp air. “If I can’t hire Aunt Mimi, let’s go to Ireland and trace the family.”
“Sure. When are you going to take time off?” Jack pulled up to a security gate and leaned out to address the guard. “My name is Jack Mallory. I’d like see Elliott Fraser. I don’t have an appointment.”
The guard pushed a button and the gate opened. “Follow the road. You’ll end up right in front of the mansion.”
Charlotte frowned, gave her head a single shake. “This doesn’t make sense. Why have a security guard if you’re going to let everyone in?”
Jack looked at her and arched a brow slowly. “I was thinking the same thing.”
“How would you explain it in a book?”
He gave her a brief snort. “I’d say the people in the car were expected.”
Charlotte turned and glanced back at the guard. “He’s on the phone now. So he’s probably letting someone know we’re on the way. But they can’t know who we are or why we’re here.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
Charlotte looked out the window at the paddocks and barns. “This farm is incredible. They’ve spent millions on the grounds alone.”
“According to the article I read, Fraser has millions to spend.” Jack stopped the car in front of the mansion. “Let’s go see Braham.”
She followed Jack to the front door. “I hope he’s not in jail.”
A tall, lean, good-looking man with graying hair opened the door. “Jackson Mallory. Doctor Mallory. Please come in. I’m Elliott Fraser.”
Jack and Elliott shook hands. “We met several years ago. The year Big Brown won the Derby. You were with Sean MacKlenna.”
“2008.” Elliott’s dark eyes went curiously blank for a moment. Then they snapped back, and he said. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember.”
“I was with a large, rowdy group of investors and it was a quick introduction.”
Elliott gave a relieved sigh. “Thank ye. I’m usually good with names.” He gestured toward a beautiful woman with short, dark brown hair who was coming down the stairs. “My wife, Meredith.”
Charlotte extended her hand to Elliott and then to Meredith. “It’s nice to meet you both.”
“Welcome to MacKlenna Farm,” Meredith said.
A line of concern drew Meredith’s brows together as her eyes searched Charlotte’s face. She smiled at Meredith but quickly broke eye contact. What did Meredith see in her face to cause such concern? Charlotte didn’t know, but couldn’t worry about it right now. She glanced around, for once ignoring exquisite antiques and paintings, searching for Braham, surprised he hadn’t made an appearance already.
“Shall we go into my office?” Elliott said. “I know ye must have questions.”
A man with a military demeanor entered the room through French doors opening onto a back portico. Elliott didn’t introduce him. The man didn’t sit, but remained standing close to the doors.
“Where’s Braham?” Jack asked.
“Please sit down,” Elliott indicated the sofa. He and Meredith sat in matching chairs facing them.
“Where’s—” Jack said.
Elliott held up his hand. “Before I explain, let me tell ye a story. A few years ago, the owners of this farm, Sean—we called him the sixth—and Mary MacKlenna, were killed in a car accident. Their adopted daughter and only child, Kit, survived the crash. While going through her father’s papers, she discovered a letter, a journal, and a Celtic brooch with a large ruby at its center.”
Charlotte gasped.
Elliott continued. “Kit used the brooch to go back in time, where she met Cullen Montgomery. She and Cullen married—”
Jack interrupted, “And started a winery which is going strong today.” He glanced at Meredith. “Your winery.”
Elliott sat back, wearing a wry grin, and watched the exchange.
“You’re correct,” Meredith said. “When Kit crossed the Oregon Trail in 1852, she met her cousin.”
“Ohmygosh,” Charlotte said. “Braham’s her cousin?”
Meredith nodded.
Goose bumps peppered Charlotte’s arms. “He knew Kit was from the future. Which is why—”
“He never seemed as shocked as he should have been,” Jack said. “Then he also knew Kit had a brooch. But why did he come here? Her brooch would be in the past with her.”
“It must not be,” Charlotte said. “That’s why Braham’s here. To use her brooch instead of mine.”
“He was here,” Meredith said.
Charlotte leaped to her feet. “Was? No. He has to be here.”
The man by the door took a step forward. Elliott held up his hand and the man moved back.
“We did an investigation, beginning with when he was discovered in the parking lot at the Cedar Creek Battlefield, through when he left Mallory Plantation yesterday morning. We decided he was who he said he was. Once that decision was made, there was no reason not to loan him the brooch.”
“Did he tell you why he was so determined to return to his time?” Charlotte asked.
Elliott crossed his legs and pinched the crease in his khakis. “He said Lincoln was waiting for the information he collected while in Richmond.”
Charlotte buried her face in her hands, shaking her head. “He’s going back to stop the assassination by killing Booth.” She looked up into Elliott’s stark white face. “He’ll change history in a major way, one sure to impact all of us.”
Elliott and Meredith shared a grim glance. “Which I assume is the reason ye wouldn’t take him back?”
Charlotte nodded. “That and other reasons.”
“He said you were too afraid to go,” Meredith said.
“It’s true. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I spent six weeks in Afghanist
an and was frightened a few times, but I didn’t live in terror the way I did going back in time, especially when I landed in the middle of the real Battle of Cedar Creek. I had hoped Braham would want to stay here. Plus, I have a horrible fear of getting stuck there if I go back again.”
“Kit went twice,” Elliott said.
“But she must have stayed the second time. Was it her choice, or was she stuck?”
“Braham confirmed what we read in her journal,” Elliott said. “It was entirely her choice.”
“Then how did you end up with the brooch?” Jack asked.
Elliott pointed to the large mahogany desk. “She left it in a secret compartment of this desk. If Braham didn’t arrive at MacKlenna Farm, he promised to go there and put the brooch back. If he did put it back, it would be there now.”
“But you haven’t looked,” Jack said.
“I will, right now.” Elliott opened the drawer in the center of the desk, reached in, and a secret compartment opened in the top. He pulled out a small rosewood box, opened it, and turned it for all to see. A ruby brooch, identical to Charlotte’s except for the stone, sat nestled in satin.
Charlotte gasped again. “Oh my God. He made it. When did he leave?”
“Late last night,” Meredith said.
“Time doesn’t necessarily move at the same rate here and there. Braham could already be in Washington. He could already have killed Booth.” She dug through her purse for her smartphone. “I’ve got to check.”
“There’s no need to check,” Elliott said. “If he had changed history, our frame of reference would not be to Booth and the assassination. Matter of fact, we wouldn’t care whether he went back in time at all.”
“Booth traveled around. Braham will have a hard time finding him, especially if Lincoln sends him out on another mission.”
“We have a small window of time to stop him,” Jack said.
“We? I’m not going back. I don’t understand how the magic works, and I might not be able to return.”
The Sapphire Brooch Page 17
