Ghosts of Culloden Moor 23 - Brodrick

by L. L. Muir

  Maybe he wanted that contact as much as she did. Or maybe her twenty-four-year-old brain no longer functioned well on a couple hours sleep, and it had forgotten the fact that she was running away with the man who had killed Robert Reiser. And the last thing she should be focused on was his lips!

  ~

  The Northland Arboretum was a 500-acre recreational property that included the Paul Bunyun Conservation Area, with a spaghetti bowl of nature trails. Its main purpose was to encourage present and future generations to become nature enthusiasts. In the winter, those trails were groomed for cross-country skiing, and others were left rough for snowshoes and winter hiking. A popular venue for wedding receptions, both indoors and out, the Arboretum had a large gazebo tucked into the trees—a setting destined to be popular with brides and photographers.

  In the early hours before dawn, Larkin and the Highlander emerged from one of those nature trails—one that had been groomed well enough for a chick in stocking feet. They found the white gazebo glowing like a beacon against the eerie shadows, beckoning them to sit and rest. Automatic sprinklers had done their job and left a layer of dew-like moisture on everything in sight, making every blossom in the garden smell as if it had bloomed in the past few minutes.

  “Maybe I’m dreaming all this,” Larkin whispered.

  “Would ye care for a pinch, so that ye may know for certain?” The Scotsman gave her a wink, tugged on her hand, then led her up the path beneath a trellis and into the gazebo.

  Though she’d been carried part of the way, Larkin was exhausted. After such a rush of adrenaline in her system, she was crashing after the high. But on top of that, she’d closed her eyes around midnight, awakened at 3:20, and those three hours’ sleep hadn’t prepared her for the day ahead.

  The sun—and reality—were gearing up to punch her in the face. She could just feel it.

  She collapsed on a small bench, and though there were four others to choose from, the man sat down next to her.

  “We shall rest for a wee bit, but we must put as much distance as possible between us and yer brother, and as quickly as we can.”

  Brother? Of course she didn’t have a brother. She was clear-headed enough to remember that. “Excuse me?”

  So he could see her better, he moved a long lock of hair away from his face, flipped it over his shoulder, then he repeated himself.

  She shook her head. “Oh, I understood you. But just who do you think is my brother?”

  His brows quirked together. “Why, the sheriff.”

  “The sher—” She gasped, insulted. Even the little green cricket in her head was speechless.

  “Aye. What else could he be to ye then? I saw him kiss yer forehead when he greeted ye. I doubt he would do the same with a co-worker, aye?” His brows lifted. “I suppose he might have been a cousin then? But a kinsman, surely.”

  He clearly didn’t understand that Justice couldn’t just kiss her on the lips at the hospital where they were, technically, co-workers. But she wasn’t going to discuss it with the man.

  The air shifted through the damp trees that surrounded them. She folded her arms to ward away a sudden chill and changed the subject. “What is your name?”

  “Forgive me.” He stood up and gave her a strangely old-fashioned bow. “Brodrick Matthew Shaw, at yer service.” He sat again. “And ye’re Larkin Nash. A doctor.”

  “And you’re a Scotsman. Aren’t you?”

  “Nay, lass. I’m a Highlander.”

  “From Scotland, though, right?”

  “Naturally. But a Highlander, make nae mistake.”

  “Okay. So you’re a Highlander. Would you mind telling me what brings you to Minnesota? What you’re doing here?”

  He shrugged. “What brought me here is a wee witch. And what I am doing here is simple enough. I’m failing.”

  “Failing?”

  He released a burst of laughter that made her jump. “I tell ye a witch brought me, and what catches yer attention is my failure?”

  Since there was no telling how early the groundskeepers might show up to do their work in cooler temperatures, she lowered her voice. “I thought it might be better to deal with the simple stuff first.” That was an understatement. “What did you fail at?”

  Shaw sobered and glanced away. She waited silently, sensing he wouldn’t react well if she pushed him. Violence wasn’t a worry, but getting him to open up might help her find a way to help him, and hopefully help herself.

  “I believe…” He took a deep breath that again lifted his chest and that plaid sash. “I believe I was sent to save the man who died. Obviously, if that was my task, I failed well and good. And all because I dragged my boots about coming in the first place. Had I accepted my challenge immediately, I might have arrived before the man was shot, and not after it was too late.”

  Larkin had been eyeing the bench on the opposite side of the gazebo, hoping she might be able to stretch out and close her eyes while they talked, but that wasn’t possible anymore. She was wide awake now. He sounded perfectly lucid—except that part about a witch—and what’s more, he sounded like he was telling the truth, that he wasn’t responsible for Reiser’s death. Unfortunately, she knew what he’d say next, that the guilty party was Justice Payette. And though she dreaded hearing it again, she hoped there might be a hole or two in the story that would allow her to believe that her boyfriend—if he still was her boyfriend—was the upstanding officer he claimed to be.

  “I think you’d better start a little earlier in the story,” she said.

  “But ye didna wish to hear about the witch.”

  She sighed. “I’ll try to keep an open mind, okay?”

  “Oh, ye’ll be needing more than just an open mind, lass. Ye’ll need a bit of faith as well.”

  She nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

  He bit his lip while he leaned close and tried to look into her eyes. The shadows were fading into a grayish green as dawn warned it was on its way. She tried to mask any signs of doubt, but his smirk said she’d failed.

  He nodded forcefully. “Ye’re a sweet lass, but ye canna lie to save yer life.” He reached over and took her hand, laid it on his knee, then pinned it there with his own, like he expected her to run. “Take what rest ye feel ye need, but the sun will soon rise, and we must find a hiding spot. I’m bound to stand out like a nudist on Sunday.”

  “So you’re not going to tell me about the witch?”

  All expression fell away from his face. “What witch?”

  She had heard some pretty disturbing delusions in her line of work, so she was sure she could handle his. But he didn’t trust her yet. And that little fact caused a slight ache in her chest she had to ignore or the man might read it on her face.

  No, she couldn’t force him to trust her with his story, but she could at least earn his respect. And respect might lead to trust, if they had a little more time together. So she got to her feet in spite of him still pinning her hand to his knee. “I’m ready when you are.”

  His brows lifted, then the corners of his mouth followed suit. He jumped to his feet and stepped to the gazebo’s opening. “This is yer country, lass. Tell me what lies beyond this park.”

  She looked him over in the pale light and realized that if he were that striking in the pre-dawn, they were really going to be in trouble once the sun was up.

  “We need to get you out of that kilt.”

  He smirked. “Ye Americans. Ye canna make up yer minds. Ye want a man in a kilt, but as soon as ye have one, ye want him to take it off again.” He laughed at his own joke. She bit down on her lip to keep from joining in. “I ken what ye mean, though. Why Soni saw fit to send me to the States was a shock, to say the least. She kens how I loathe…” He twisted his lips around like he regretted sharing so much information, even though Larkin didn’t know what he was talking about. “Never mind,” he said. “Let us find a clothes line with something more fitting in my size.”

  “A clothes line?”


  He shrugged. “It is a line upon which ye hang yer clothes to dry after washing. I ken not what Americans call such a thing. But perhaps ye’ve never deigned to wash yer own clothes.”

  “Of course I wash my own clothes. But you won’t find many clothes lines around anymore. And besides, I’m not a thief. We’ll have to go shopping. There is a Walmart near Perch Lake, not far from here. If we hurry, we can get you changed before it’s light.”

  “And I suppose ye keep enough coin on yer person to purchase anything ye wish?”

  “I’ve got plenty.” She pulled 57 hundred dollar bills out of her pocket, waved them a couple of times, then stuffed them back where they came from. “I cashed my first big paycheck and bought a pair of shoes, but I didn’t have time to open a new account. And I don’t trust my landlady, so I couldn’t leave it at home. Lucky thing, though, right? They might be able to trace credit cards, but not this—” She stopped talking when she noticed the pained, almost angry expression on his face. She’d been stupid to wave cash around in front of him. Maybe he was reconsidering his options.

  “Lucky, aye. Ye’re well and truly blessed. But I’ll tell ye true, I’ll have not the time nor the means with which to repay ye, if ye spend yer earnings on new clothing for me.”

  She released a breath of relief. He was embarrassed, that had to be the problem. “Don’t worry. I don’t need you to pay me back.”

  He, on the other hand, didn’t seem relieved at all. In fact, his frown seemed even fiercer than before. “I will be in yer debt, in any case.”

  She pulled her hand from his grasp and started down the trail. “Look on the bright side,” she said sarcastically, “maybe we’ll get caught before we make it to the store and you won’t owe me anything at all.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Larkin stomped along the Paul Bunyan Trail, and though she was grateful for a number of things—a lack of early morning runners, the fact that the trail ran beneath the freeway, or the smoothness of the track that allowed her to walk instead of being carried—she still had a hard time shaking off her sour mood.

  The high and mighty Highlander didn’t want to owe her any favors? Well, it was too late for that. He already owed her big time. Thanks to him, her professional career might never recover, at least in Minnesota. The paperwork hadn’t been completed yet for her partnership with Rent and the others, and even if Rent defended her, his associates would be all too happy to cut ties with a psychologist that might be prone to lawsuits for letting dangerous patients loose on the citizens of Minnesota.

  All her carefully laid plans for the future could be over in the blink of an eye. She’d have to start over. And she’d have to do it far away. Maybe Rent would take pity on her and write a few letters of recommendation…as long as she went far enough…

  She growled and kicked a rock, forgetting she had no shoes on. Pain rang in her foot like a gong. She grabbed her toe to try and stop it, and had to hop around to keep from tipping over. A big hand reached out to grab her, but she yanked her elbow away and lost her balance, smacking her knee on the hard trail because she was still holding her toe.

  “Lass!” He bent over her.

  “Leave me alone!” She crawled gracelessly to her feet and stood quickly, bumping his chin with her head. When he gasped, she regretted it immediately, but her pride wouldn’t let her show how much. “Sorry,” she grumbled, then started walking again.

  “A poor liar, as I said before.” His voice came from far behind, but she refused to look back. “It is a natural thing to wish to hurt someone,” his steps and voice grew closer, “when they have caused ye pain. So it is I who must apologize, lass.” He strode along beside her then. “No doubt ye will pay a heavy price for my abduction. And then, of course, I’ve also broken yer heart—”

  “What?” She stopped and faced him. “I don’t even know you! And just for the record, you’re the one who kissed me. Both times.”

  He bit his lower lip, clearly trying to suppress his smile. But the dimples gave him away. He was laughing at her.

  She growled and stomped off again. He hurried to catch up.

  “Ye misunderstand, Larkin.”

  “Don’t call me Larkin—”

  “I only meant that yer heart must be broken to find that yer…friend…the sheriff, is an evil man.”

  She stopped again and spun on her stocking-covered heel. “He’s not evil. I don’t believe he killed Reiser. You’re wrong about him. And you’re wrong about us. He’s my…” She growled again, frustrated that she couldn’t come up with a term for their relationship that didn’t sound like a junior high school romance. It didn’t help that Jiminy was sitting on her shoulder doing the slow clap.

  Once more, she turned and walked away. She was headed to Walmart and the first thing she was going to buy was a pair of shoes. If she decided to buy him something besides a giant flannel nightgown, he’d be lucky.

  He’d be lucky if she didn’t call the police.

  Her stomach dropped when they came around a corner and saw the large box store in the distance. She didn’t want him caught, no matter how insulted she felt at the moment. The image of him being compressed into a squad car with his hands behind his back made her want to vomit.

  Something was very wrong in a universe where this reasonable Scottish god was the bad guy who needed to be locked away, and someone like her, who had worked so hard for a position to help people, wouldn’t be given the chance to do so.

  She faced him. He was only a few feet away but closing the space quickly. She wasn’t ready to feel vulnerable again, so she put a hand on his chest to stop him. He looked at her hand, then her face. His expression was nothing she’d seen before. Maybe he was seeing her as something besides a hostage. Who knew? But what she needed at that moment was some respect.

  “Look. This might be the last place you can hide between here and the store. It’s already too bright. Someone is bound to see you and turn you in. So you’re going to have to hide in these trees and keep quiet. Do you understand? I’ll hurry. In and out. You’ll just have to trust me to pick out something for you to wear, something that will help you blend in—”

  “And trust that ye’ll return?”

  “Yeah. That too. But it’s not very likely that I’ll take off on my own, now is it? The police are probably looking for me too. If they nab me, they’ll expect me to lead them to you. And I’m not quite mad enough to turn you in.”

  He pulled her against him as if she were putting up no resistance at all. Then he kissed her hard and quick. “Be careful, sweet Larkin.” He brushed the hair away from her face while he studied her eyes. He shook his head as if in answer to some silent question, then he kissed her yet again! It was a quick, too-casual peck, really. And when it was over, he left her standing in the middle of the path with her mouth hanging open.

  The quick footsteps came from the direction of the freeway and a runner came around the corner. He didn’t miss a stride as he adjusted his angle to pass her, but she was sure he’d been just as surprised as she’d been. She watched him go, to make sure he wasn’t looking back, recognizing her from the news or something, but it didn’t look like he had.

  Glancing back at the thick growth alongside the path, she could see no sign of Brodrick Shaw. But thanks to that camo-plaid of his, he might be standing right in front of her and she wouldn’t know it.

  Maybe he didn’t need new clothes to blend in after all, but she needed shoes. And she needed a little break from the cloud of testosterone that surrounded him like an aura, so she offered a grimace to the trees and turned to follow the runner toward the sanctuary that was Walmart.

  “Shake a leg, lass.” His voice gave no hint to where he hid.

  She rolled her eyes. “You need to keep quiet. Remember, anyone with a brogue in Minnesota will draw attention today.”

  “And a single lass, buying clothes for a man?”

  “Won’t raise an eyebrow. Trust me. All I have to do is throw a box of tampons on the pile
and no one will pay any attention.”

  “I doona understand.”

  “You aren’t supposed to.”

  ~

  The Walmart parking lot held about twenty cars when she finally reached it. Inside the store, it looked like most of those cars belonged to employees because there were only about three other people pushing carts around the store. She felt like twenty sets of eyes watched every move she made.

  At first glance, no one would know she was the same chick who might be plastered on the local news. Since she’d worn a ponytail at the hospital, she had removed the elastic and pulled her hair around her face before she’d come within range of the cameras in the parking lot. She’d also ditched her paisley blazer, but she couldn’t do anything about the hospital socks until she got to the shoe department. There, she grabbed two pair of tennis shoes in size ten. One pair to wear, the other for the clerk to scan. The last thing she needed was to be stopped for shoplifting a pair of shoes.

  Next, she bought food—unhealthy stuff that would give her a butt-load of calories to make up for her lack of sleep. It was a trick she’d learned as an undergrad. The day the police started hunting you was not the day to worry about eating healthy. And she wanted to make sure her foreign visitor had a good taste of the America he seemed to be dissing.

  As she headed toward the men’s clothing section, tears began flowing down her cheeks like someone had broken off a faucet. From now on, she realized, her life would be divided into before and after. But it wasn’t the same mind-shift she’d been prepared to make that week. She wasn’t going from before a good income to after a good income. She was leaving behind a predictable plan and stepping into a questionable future that would have to be relocated and scaled down.

  My life will never be the same. She’d thought those exact words when she’d bought the heels. Before money. After money. Before heels. After heels. Before and after the Brodrick Shaw episode.