Had he pushed her too far, too fast? He hadn’t known how devoid of meaning his life had been until he’d met Brynn. His days had been a dry routine, one much like the other, all infinitely boring, without real purpose. With Brynn, he’d learned to live again, to be the kind of man who could provide the security and affection that Jared needed, a man who could open himself to a woman and include her in his life without reservation. He’d finally recognized his climb to power at the law firm for what it had been: a meaningless, futile attempt to plug the hole in his soul. But Rand didn’t need power or prestige. He wanted family, friends and a real home filled with love, acceptance, warmth and laughter.
But Brynn wasn’t laughing as she gazed out over Pleasant Valley, stretched five thousand feet below them like a topographic map. Standing on top of the world, she looked as if its weight bore down on her.
He moved behind her, slid his arms around her waist and drew her against him. Unable to resist, he placed his lips against the soft flesh at the back of her neck. She stiffened slightly, then relaxed in his embrace.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, hoping she’d share what was bothering her.
“How much I love the valley.” Her voice trembled with emotion.
“I’ve come to love it, too.”
“Have you?” The updraft caught her words and flung them away but not before he noted they were edged with skepticism.
He nodded and buried his face in her hair. “What is it Grant calls this place?”
He felt her quick intake of breath beneath his hands. “Almost Heaven.”
Rand gazed down on the patchwork of plowed red fields, snowy orchards and green meadows, bisected by the meandering silver ribbon of the Piedmont River and the corresponding path of the highway. Scattered across the farmland, houses and barns looking no bigger than Monopoly game pieces glistened in the morning sun. At the far end of the valley, church spires in town lifted above the trees and glinted brilliant white against the clear blue sky. Emotions too strong for words shook him. He felt as if he’d died and gone to Heaven, all right. His formerly barren life was behind him, and the future stretched ahead, ripe with promise, just like the valley below in the first flush of spring.
He’d invited Brynn to lunch today to tell her of his plans. He’d faxed his resignation Friday to Steinman, and afterwards he’d called Jodie, met her in town and rented the space above her café as his office. From now on, River Walk in Pleasant Valley would be his home. And he wanted to share that home with Brynn, if she’d have him. Before today he’d had every confidence that she would. Now, considering her strange demeanor, he wasn’t so sure.
The ring of his cell phone jarred him from his thoughts. Not wanting to break the spell of the valley vista, he started not to answer. Concern for Jared, however, had him checking the caller ID. It was Brynn’s home number.
“Rand Benedict,” he said.
“Put my daughter on,” a male voice heavy with authority demanded, omitting the niceties.
Rand handed Brynn the phone. “It’s for you.”
“Hello,” Brynn said. The color left her cheeks as she listened to her father. Suddenly she sagged against the stone wall as if her knees had given way.
Rand grasped her elbow to support her, but she shook him off.
“I’m on my way, Daddy.” She switched off the phone and returned it to Rand.
“I have to go,” she said.
“Home?”
“No.” She strode toward the car and flung open the passenger door. “Blackberry Farm. Someone’s attacked Mrs. Bickerstaff.”
Chapter Twelve
Rand hurried to the car, turned it back toward the valley and drove as fast as the winding road allowed. Worry for Mrs. Bickerstaff tightened like a vise around Brynn’s chest.
“Is Eileen all right?” he asked.
“The paramedics are with her now.” Brynn refused to think the worst. “Dad didn’t give any other details. He just said to come as fast as I can.”
To quell her reaction to the terrible news, Brynn took a deep breath, blew it out and focused hard to allow her training to kick in. The most difficult part of her work as a police officer was suppressing her feelings when tragedy struck. She knew everyone in the valley, and they were all like family. When a crime was committed, she took it personally. But emotions clouded judgment, and she couldn’t do her job if she wasn’t thinking clearly.
“What kind of attack?” Rand asked.
Brynn shook her head. “Daddy didn’t say. Just that someone had broken in and attacked Mrs. Bickerstaff. We’ll know soon enough.”
She was glad she didn’t have to urge Rand to hurry. If he went any faster, even the road-hugging Jag would never make the sharp curves. Questions ricocheted through her mind like a frightened bird in a too-small cage. Was Mrs. Bickerstaff all right? Who would have done this to her? And why?
With the questions, ugly suspicions raised their heads. Vandals? Drug addicts stealing objects to fence for their next fix? Or, the most insidious possibility of all, someone who wanted the old woman to feel unsafe in her lifelong home? Someone who intended to frighten Mrs. Bickerstaff so badly she would agree to sell the farm she loved?
Please, God, not the latter, Brynn prayed. Bad enough that she suspected Rand of underhanded business dealings, but she wouldn’t believe he’d place an old woman’s life at risk for his own profit. Not the Rand she’d grown to love.
There had to be another motive.
The drive to Blackberry Farm took only twenty tense, silent minutes, but to Brynn, it seemed like hours. Rand, concentrating on the road, said nothing, and she was afraid to speak, fearful she’d put her horrible suspicions into words.
When the Jaguar pulled up in front of the farmhouse, Rand parked between a Pleasant Valley patrol car and an ambulance. Brynn’s heart hammered in her throat. The fact that the ambulance was still there meant either Mrs. Bickerstaff’s injuries weren’t life threatening, or—
Brynn shoved the morbid thought away, wrenched opened the car door and took the porch steps two at a time. Rand followed.
Lucas Rhodes met them in the front hall, his handsome face grim, anger flashing in his eyes.
“How is she?” Brynn asked.
“Better than you’d expect. Your father’s with her.” Lucas glanced over her shoulder at Rand. “You must be Benedict.”
Rand offered his hand. “Call me Rand. Any idea who did this?”
Lucas set his mouth in a tight line and jerked his head toward the front parlor. “You’ll have to ask the chief.”
Brynn brushed past Lucas and entered the parlor with Rand close behind. A quick survey of the room revealed the chaos the intruders had created. Drawers were flung open, their contents strewn. Pillows had been tossed from chairs and sofas, books raked from their shelves onto the floor, curtains yanked from their rods. Mrs. Bickerstaff sat in her favorite rocker with Brynn’s father in a chair drawn beside hers. Although the old woman’s hands trembled, she greeted Brynn with a reassuring smile that loosened the anxiety in her chest. Two paramedics with a stretcher hovered on the other side of the room.
“What happened?” Brynn asked.
“I’m not sure,” Mrs. Bickerstaff said. “One minute I was sound asleep. The next thing I knew, someone was tying my hands and feet while another person was rummaging through the bureau and closet in my bedroom. I tried to fight him off, but he was too strong.”
Brynn noted a bruise on the old woman’s cheek and tamped down the anger that threatened to strangle her. “Did they hurt you?”
“Other than scaring the living daylights out of me?” Eileen shook her head. “Just a few bruises. Once they left, however, I was afraid I might die before anyone found me. Luckily, I was finally able to loosen the cords on my hands and reach my bedside phone to call for help.”
Brynn tried not to think of the hours that the woman had lain helpless, frightened and alone.
“Why, Rand—” Mrs. Bickerstaff greeted him with a fond smile. “
I didn’t know you were here, too.”
“Glad to see you’re unhurt,” Rand said with feeling, “and I’d like to get my hands on whoever did this.”
“Did you recognize anyone?” Brynn asked her.
Mrs. Bickerstaff shook her head. “It was too dark to see their faces. But they were young men. Their voices weren’t familiar, but they called each other Daniel and Josh. And they kept hurrying each other, saying they had to get back to the farm before they were missed.”
Brynn met her father’s gaze and knew they were both thinking of Jeff’s at-risk teens, Daniel and Josh, who lived at Archer Farm.
“Anything stolen?” Brynn asked.
“I haven’t had a chance to search.” The old woman cast a scolding glance at Brynn’s father. “Hunt is treating me like an invalid. But a cursory glance tells me my purse and computer are missing.”
“Find any physical evidence?” Brynn asked her father.
He shook his head. “Nothing useful. We’ve dusted for prints, but Eileen says they were wearing gloves when they tied her up, so I doubt we’ll find any.”
“That’s strange,” Rand said. “Why would they wear gloves but call each other by name?”
Brynn shoved aside the chilling thought that the pair might not have expected Mrs. Bickerstaff to survive to identify them.
Lucas had entered the room. “We did find one item that doesn’t belong to Mrs. Bickerstaff.” He handed Brynn a clear plastic evidence bag that held a silver earring shaped like a skull.
Brynn examined the earring and frowned. “The Josh and Daniel I know don’t wear jewelry.”
“You know these men?” Rand’s outrage at the intruders seemed as deep and genuine as her own.
“I know a Josh and a Daniel. They’re two of Jeff’s boys at Archer Farm. But I can’t believe they’re involved. If you’ll take me home, please, I’ll get my car and question them.”
“I’ll take you to the farm,” Rand volunteered.
Brynn struggled with her emotions—a jumble of anger at what Mrs. Bickerstaff had suffered, regret at the involvement of two of her favorite boys and puzzlement over how much, if any, Rand was involved in the terrible events at Blackberry Farm. Already overwhelmed, she didn’t have the emotional strength to deal further today with Rand or her feelings for him. She’d have to face both later.
“I’d better go alone.”
“Suit yourself,” Rand said easily, “but I can’t allow you to question them without my presence.”
“You have something to do with this?” her father demanded.
Rand shook his head. “I’m providing legal counsel for Archer Farm. These boys are in a precarious position. They deserve a lawyer.”
Brynn rolled her eyes heavenward. Lordy, she would have to deal with Rand after all. “Then let’s get going. The sooner they’re questioned, the better.”
Rand knelt in front of Mrs. Bickerstaff and took her hands. “Why don’t you come to River Walk until we get this sorted out? Or at least until someone can clean up the mess these vandals made. Lillian and I will take good care of you.”
“You’re a sweet man, Rand Benedict,” Eileen said with a smile that placed the old sparkle back in her gray eyes, “no matter what they say about you,” she added with a widening of her grin.
“She’s going to the hospital first,” the chief said.
“No need for that,” Eileen insisted. “I’m perfectly fine.”
Hunt’s face took on an intractable look that barred further discussion. “We’ll let Dr. Anderson be the judge of how fine you are. When he says you’re okay, you can decide where you want to be.”
Rand patted the old woman’s hands and stood. “Just remember my invitation. You’re always welcome at River Walk.”
Rand stepped aside for the paramedics to place Mrs. Bickerstaff on the stretcher and roll it out to the waiting ambulance. Worry clouded his eyes and created a furrow between his brows, reminding Brynn of the way he’d looked the night he drove Jared to the hospital. Rand seemed genuinely concerned for the old woman. He never would have knowingly placed her in danger—but Brynn couldn’t be certain of anything now.
“Lucas and I will finish up here,” her father told her. “You let Mr. Benedict take you to the farm.” The slightest lift of his eyebrows reminded her of her earlier assignment, to keep tabs on Rand. “Let me know what you find out,” he added with double meaning.
Rand extended his hand to her father. “Sorry we had to meet under such circumstances, Chief Sawyer. I hope the next time will be better.”
“So do I.” Her father shook Rand’s hand and raked him with a piercing gaze.
Brynn suppressed a groan. Rand’s meeting her father wasn’t anything like she’d once envisioned. Not that her father’s approval was a factor now. She could tell by the look in his eyes that he had serious doubts about Rand. Doubts Brynn couldn’t help but share, until she could prove otherwise.
With a sigh, she headed toward Rand’s car once more, recalling a phrase Eileen had once forwarded her from a Web chat room: if the world didn’t suck, we’d all fall off.
“STOP THE CAR!” Brynn demanded as soon as Rand had turned off the highway onto the Archer Farm drive.
She’d been strangely quiet since leaving Mrs. Bickerstaff’s place, and Rand, thinking she was planning her interrogation of Josh and Daniel, hadn’t interrupted her thoughts. Her sudden explosion caught him by surprise.
Rand slammed on the brakes and turned to face her. “What’s wrong? You forget something?”
Brynn wrenched open the door, hopped from the car and stalked a few yards up the road.
Puzzled, Rand climbed out and followed. The noon sun flooded the drive with light and glistened off the dark green leaves of rhododendron. Birds flitted through the trees, and in the distance, he could detect the soothing trickle of a stream gurgling down the mountain. Brynn’s stiff posture and the turmoil of emotions on her face were at sharp odds with the tranquil surroundings.
Rand approached her, and she whirled on him, eyes blazing. “I want the truth,” she demanded, “and I want it now.”
He craved to reach for her, to hold her close, but with her attitude as prickly as a thorn hedge, he kept his hands to himself and attempted to gentle her with his voice. “The truth is that I love you, Brynn.”
For a moment, she looked as if she’d been sucker-punched, but she soon found her breath. “Then why have you lied to me?”
“I haven’t lied.”
“You didn’t come to the valley to buy land for Farrington Properties?” Anger sparked like deep blue flames in her magnificent eyes, and she clenched her slender fingers at her sides.
Regret scorched his gut. Her knowledge of his connection with Farrington explained her current rage, and he wished he’d had a chance to explain the situation himself. She’d jumped to the wrong conclusions and believed him guilty of lies of omission, apparently among other things, judging from the ferocity of her reaction.
“I don’t deny that I was working as Farrington’s agent. But I haven’t broken any laws.”
“What about the laws of common decency?” Her low voice shook with emotion.
“I should have told you—”
“That’s not what I mean,” she snapped.
He struggled for calm and fought against the horrible sensation that he was watching the prospects for his perfect future crumble before his eyes. “I’m not a mind reader. You’ll have to fill me in.”
She flung her arm toward the direction from which they’d come. “This entire break-in scheme at Mrs. Bickerstaff’s stinks to high heaven.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” He knotted his forehead in concentration, trying to follow her reasoning, or lack thereof.
“There were valuables strewn all over that farmhouse, from silver candlesticks to antique clocks and solid gold jewelry, items a real burglar would have taken in a heartbeat, especially when he had all night to gather his loot, but none of them were touched.”<
br />
“Go on,” Rand said with a sinking heart. “I’m listening.”
She paced the road in front of him, grinding the gravel beneath her feet before she confronted him again. “Did you ask Mrs. Bickerstaff to sell her farm to Farrington?”
The ugliness of her suspicions hit him, and with it came a surge of anger. “What are you implying?”
“Just answer my question!” Her voice had risen an octave, her face was flushed and her fists were clenched.
“Yes, I asked her, before she told me what she wanted in her will.”
“And Eileen refused to sell?”
“Why ask if you already know the answer?”
“Because I’m trying to make sense of this whole horrible mess.” Her full lower lip trembled slightly, a hint at the distress hovering beneath her rage.
He kept his voice low in hopes of soothing Brynn’s escalating temper and putting a lid on his own. “The break-in at Blackberry Farm was a senseless act of violence. You can’t attach meaning to something like that.”
“Oh, there’s meaning there, all right.” Her voice was harsh, and her words struck him like hard-thrown rocks. She stopped pacing and crossed her arms over her chest. “And apparently there’s intent, as well.”
“What kind of intent?” His own anger threatened to break lose from his restraint, and, if it did, they were both lost.
“What if—” Brynn skewered him with a narrowed gaze and cold eyes. “What if someone decided to make Eileen want to sell?”
Her accusation brought Rand up short, forced him to consider possibilities he hadn’t faced. When he had first met Farrington, he’d sensed an under-current of ruthlessness in the man. How far was the developer willing to go to insure a generous profit? Far enough to break not only the civil statutes but the laws of human decency, as well? Rand wasn’t sure how ruthless Farrington was, but he could quote plenty of case law where men had committed much worse deeds for less.
He turned Brynn’s question back on her. “What makes you so sure the break-in isn’t exactly what it seems?”
“Because of the valuables left behind. Because, of all the boys at Archer Farm, Daniel and Josh are the least likely to be involved in something like this. They’re also the only boys from the farm who work in town and whose names are known to almost everyone. Sounds like the intruders were trying intentionally to cast blame on Jeff’s boys.”
Spring in the Valley Page 14
