On the other side of the garage, Moonbeam and Karma kept a close eye on the proceedings, too, and Hellhound still prowled watchfully around the buildings.
Shepherds guarding our happily oblivious sheep.
I sighed. Stemp hadn’t shown up. I had expected better of him, and the depth of my disappointment surprised me. When had I started thinking of him as one of the good guys?
Sighing again, I straightened, trying to ease the ache in my tired muscles. I probably shouldn’t blame him. Good people sometimes made bad personal decisions, and he had more reason to do so than most.
The vibration of my phone startled me, and I snatched it out of my waist pouch and answered before it could go to voicemail.
Labelle’s unwelcome voice sent a shiver down my spine. “Good evening, Ms. Widdenback; it’s Frederick Labelle.”
“Hi,” I said flatly, my heart rate picking up.
“I just wanted to let you know I’ve been researching that investment we discussed, and it looks as though everything will go ahead smoothly.”
“Oh. Good.” I glanced around, but nobody was within earshot. “I’ll check into it a bit more at my end, then,” I said, holding up our pretense of being congenial business associates. “I hope to have everything I need within the next few days.”
“That will be fine. I’ll wait to hear from you,” he replied. “And… I also wanted to apologize. I’m afraid we started off on the wrong foot and I wanted to let you know there are no hard feelings. I’m hoping we’ll be able to enjoy a long and profitable business relationship.”
I almost gagged, but managed an affable reply. “Me, too. I’ll be in touch. ‘Bye.”
Then I stowed my phone back in my waist pouch and went to find a much-needed beer.
Grabbing two bottles, I walked out to meet Hellhound, letting my strides lengthen and my muscles relax at last. He gave me a quizzical glance as I handed him an ice-cold bottle.
“Come on in,” I said. “I just had a call from you-know-who, and you were right, he’s sucking up now. I think we’re safe.”
He let out a breath and tipped up the bottle for a long, long swallow. “Damn, darlin’, that’s good,” he said hoarsely. “I’m gonna go grab my guitar, then. Webb an’ Linda have been buggin’ me about playin’ a few tunes for ‘em.” He shrugged. “Dunno why; they’ve got the music man, but whatever. If it’ll make ‘em happy…”
He shrugged again, but I could tell he was secretly pleased.
I reached up for a kiss. “Go get your guitar. You’re officially off-duty.”
He headed for his SUV and I walked back to the garage. Moonbeam and Karma had spotted our exchange, and they wove through the chattering guests to meet me at the edge of the crowd.
“Update?” Moonbeam inquired.
“Yes. I just had a call, and we can stand down now.” I nodded toward the music and light spilling out the open doors of the garage. “It’s all over but the party.”
“Aydan?” Kane’s deep voice made me turn.
“What, you managed to escape your keeper for a few seconds?” I teased, glancing over to where Daniel stood with one hand on his mother while his anxious gaze tracked Kane’s location.
Kane chuckled. “Yes. Briefly.” He sobered. “I just got a call from Glen Birch.” Glancing at Moonbeam and Karma, he elaborated, “One of the RCMP officers who was working on Daniel’s case.” They nodded and he went on, “He was just letting me know they found Scot Murphy’s body. He and several of the other club members had been mauled to death by bears. Apparently they had been feeding the bears and it backfired.”
“Oh.” I didn’t dare say anything else.
“What will become of the bears?” Moonbeam inquired.
Kane shrugged. “Fish and Wildlife officers trapped them, but they’ll likely have to be euthanized. They’re too habituated to human contact.”
“That’s sickening,” Moonbeam said quietly. “I understand that it’s necessary, but…”
Kane nodded and went on, “On a happier note, the other boys have all been reunited with their families, and Mrs. Murphy and her daughters are receiving aid and counselling from Social Services. Matthew’s remains have been retrieved, so they’ll be able to give him a proper burial as soon as the autopsy is complete.”
“What about the rest of the so-called club members?” I asked, anger rising all over again. “Did they nail those assholes?”
“They’re working on it.” At my gesture of frustration, Kane added, “It will take a while. It seems there were two tiers of membership in the group. Most of the members were unaware of the atrocities being perpetrated by the inner circle. The main group is innocent of everything except general wrong-headedness.”
“You can say that again,” I muttered.
Kane went on, “The inner circle evaluated the regular members through general conversation, and if they were amenable they completed their initiation by supplying a woman to the club. After that their solidarity was enforced on pain of death.”
I shuddered. “And nobody would ever have known if you hadn’t been so determined to find Daniel.”
“How many victims were there?” Karma rumbled, anger hardening his eyes.
Kane sighed. “We’ll likely never know. They were homeless women and prostitutes abducted off the streets, so although some matched up to unsolved missing persons cases, there were likely many more who were never reported missing in the first place. And the firepit inside the stockade was full of charred bones and ashes. Apparently after the bears were finished the members retrieved any remains and burned them, and judging by the depth of the ashes they had been doing so for quite some time.”
“Those poor women,” Moonbeam said softly. “That makes me feel physically ill.”
“Yes,” Kane agreed. “And even now their suffering may not be at an end. They’ll receive medical treatment and likely be funnelled into a women’s shelter, but with that kind of mental trauma and no personal support systems or financial resources, most will likely end up on the streets again.”
“They are welcome at our commune if they choose to come,” Moonbeam offered. “We have experience in helping victims of violent crime, and the commune provides a safe haven for people who… choose to withdraw from the world at large. All we ask from our members is abstinence from alcohol and drugs and a willingness to contribute their share of labour to the vegetable garden and daily chores.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Kane said quietly. “I’ll put you in touch with Glen.”
“Thank you…” Moonbeam began, but then went still, looking over my shoulder.
I spun, my heart lurching into my throat, but relaxed at the sight of Stemp approaching. A small glow of happiness warmed me. They’d get another chance after all.
“Good evening,” he greeted us, and gave his parents a wary glance. “I apologize for my tardiness. I had to deal with an urgent matter at the office.”
He looked tired, and remorse for my earlier judgement squeezed my heart. On call, 24/7. Who knew what deadly decisions he might have been making while we celebrated?
“Have you eaten?” I asked. “The caterers put the leftovers in the fridge if you’re hungry.”
“That would be most welcome.”
“Come, dear,” Moonbeam said, holding out her hand. “You look exhausted. Sit down and I’ll fix you a plate.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
He and Karma and Moonbeam moved toward the garage, leaving Kane and me alone.
Kane glanced over at Daniel again, already tethered by the invisible bond between father and son, and I laughed with the sheer joy of knowing he’d finally gotten his heart’s desire.
He turned back to me, smiling. “I feel as though I’ve been given the world. Something so immeasurably precious I’m almost afraid to accept it.”
“Don’t be afraid.” I squeezed his hand. “You’re going to be the best dad ever. Have you talked to your own dad yet?”
“Yes.” His sm
ile glowed. “He’s absolutely over the moon. He’s going to give us a week or two to get settled, but nothing will be able to keep him away from his grandson after that.”
“So…” I hesitated. “How do you think ‘settled’ is going to look?”
“I… don’t know.” Kane sobered and cast another glance at Alicia and Daniel. Alicia gave him a tentative smile and he turned back to me, frowning. “I’m not going to go back to her, Aydan.”
Startled, I blinked at him. “I didn’t expect you to.”
But he’d obviously thought about it.
“Don’t make any snap decisions,” I suggested. “I think you’d better count on spending quite a bit of time with them until you’ve gotten Daniel to the point where he doesn’t have an anxiety attack as soon as you leave his sight. And you need to come to a truce with Alicia. Daniel needs two parents united in their concern for him, not divided by their personal issues.”
“Yes,” Kane agreed. “It’s going to be a long process, and it’s not going to be easy for any of us. But…” His face lit up again. “I can’t think of anything more worth the effort.”
“Get back there.” I gave him a nudge. “Your family needs you, Dad.”
He turned away smiling, his step light as he returned to swing Daniel up onto his shoulders. Daniel squealed with delight, grinning from ear to ear.
Drawing a long happy breath, I turned in time to see Moonbeam and Karma enfold Stemp in a three-way hug.
Heart full, I moved over to lean against the garage again as Hellhound stepped up beside the deejay’s table, guitar in hand.
The crowd went still when he began to sing Bob Seger’s Always In My Heart, his sexy rough-edged voice floating softly on the evening air. Listening to him croon the tender words of love and commitment he had never allowed himself to experience, I wrapped my arms over the pleasant ache in my chest.
One perfect evening.
For now, it was all I wanted.
A Request
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Books in the NEVER SAY SPY series:
Book 1: Never Say Spy
Book 2: The Spy Is Cast
Book 3: Reach For The Spy
Book 4: Tell Me No Spies
Book 5: How Spy I Am
Book 6: A Spy For A Spy
Book 7: Spy, Spy Away
Book 8: Spy Now, Pay Later
Book 9: Spy High
Book 10: Spy Away Home
Book 11: The Spies That Bind
Humour by Diane Henders
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About Me
By profession, I’m a technical writer, computer geek, and ex-interior designer. I’m good at two out of three of these things. I had the sense to quit the one I sucked at.
To deal with my mid-life crisis, I also write adventure novels featuring a middle-aged female protagonist. And I kickbox.
This seemed more productive than indulging in more typical mid-life crisis activities like getting a divorce, buying a Harley Crossbones, and cruising across the country picking up men in sleazy bars. Especially since it’s winter most of the months of the year here.
It’s much more comfortable to sit at my computer. And hell, Harleys are expensive. Come to think of it, so are beer and gasoline.
Oh, and I still love my husband. There’s that. So I’ll stick with the writing.
Diane Henders
Since You Asked…
People frequently ask if my protagonist, Aydan Kelly, is really me.
Yeah, you got me. These novels are an autobiography of my secret life as a government agent, working with highly-classified computer technology… Oh, wait, what’s that? You want the truth? Um, you do realize fiction writers get paid to lie, don’t you?
…well, shit, that’s not nearly as much fun. It’s also a long story.
I swore I’d never write fiction. “Too personal,” I said. “People read novels and automatically assume the author is talking about him/herself.”
Well, apparently I lied about the fiction-writing part. One day a story sprang into my head and wouldn’t leave. The only way to get it out was to write it down. So I did.
But when I wrote that first book, I never intended to show it to anyone, so I created a character that looked like me just to thumb my nose at the stereotype. I’ve always had a defective sense of humour, and this time it turned around and bit me in the ass.
Because after I’d written the third novel, I realized I actually wanted other people to read my books. And when I went back to change my main character to not look like me, my beta readers wouldn’t let me. They rose up against me and said, “No! Aydan is a tall woman with long red hair and brown eyes. End of discussion!”
Jeez, no wonder readers get the idea that authors write about themselves. So no, I’m not Aydan Kelly. I just look like her.
The Spies That Bind Page 42
