The Gift (The Protectors Book 6)

by Leeanna Morgan

  What Claire didn’t know, was that Hannah’s dreams had changed. And as far as being a full-time, professional artist was concerned, not for the better.

  ***

  Brett wanted to wait until he was alone with Dave before asking about the painting. He’d searched the entire house and he still couldn’t find it.

  Between Dave’s family and the extra excitement that Christmas brought to a house, finding any time alone with Dave had been nearly impossible. But here they were, side-by-side in the barn, stripping the trim from Brett’s Corvette.

  “When do you think your car will be ready to drive?” Dave asked.

  “Depends on how much time and money I’ve got. Some of the grilles are so damaged that they’ll need to be replaced. The others will need a clean, but that’s about it.” Brett ran his hand along the body of the car. “I’ll strip the old paint off the Corvette before I send it into town to be spray painted. I’m not expecting to be finished before September.”

  “That’s not too far away.” Dave held a marker light in the air. “Where would you like this?”

  Brett pointed to his workbench. “Over there.” He waited for Dave to return before mentioning Pat’s missing painting. “I need to ask you something.”

  “What is it?”

  “A painting has gone missing from Pat’s house. It was hanging at the top of the stairs. Do you know where it’s gone?”

  Dave’s face flushed bright red. “You think I took it?”

  “I’m not saying that.”

  “You don’t have to. Just because dad owes a lot of money, it doesn’t mean I’d steal your painting.”

  Brett stuck his hands on his hips. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I know what it’s like to live in the shadow of someone else’s life. All I need to know is whether you moved it or took it somewhere.”

  Dave crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I haven’t moved any painting. You should know me well enough not to ask.”

  “You’re not the only person I’ve asked. I called Hannah last night and spoke to Pat and Mrs. Bennett this morning.”

  “They don’t have a father who’s been harassing them for money.”

  Brett slipped his hands into his pockets. “No, they don’t. But that’s not why I asked you. If we don’t find it, I’ll have to call the police.”

  Dave scowled something fierce. “I guess you’ll be calling the police, then. If that’s all you wanted to ask me, I’d better leave. I’ve got things to do.” He threw down the rag he’d stuffed into his back pocket and left the barn.

  Brett ran his hand around the back of his neck. Hopefully, after he’d cooled down, Dave would understand why he’d asked him about the painting. If not, he didn’t know what he’d do. Dave needed to be on the ranch as much as Brett did. It gave them both a sense of pride and achievement, something that neither of them had found with their families.

  He picked up the rag Dave had dropped. Hopefully, his conversation with Thomas would be a lot better.

  ***

  By three o’clock that afternoon, Dave still hadn’t returned to the ranch. Brett called his cell phone again, but didn’t bother leaving a message. If Dave’s family weren’t being harassed, he wouldn’t have been so worried. But if someone was willing to send threatening emails, they could be willing to do a lot worse.

  Instead of staying at the ranch, Brett had driven into town. He still needed to ask Thomas and his family about the missing painting. If they didn’t know where it had gone, he would call the police.

  He stopped his truck outside Thomas’ home and studied the single-level house. Christmas lights sparkled from the windows and a blow-up snowman decorated the front porch. Someone had been outside, shoveling snow off the path that led to the front door.

  Five years ago, Thomas’ dad had left Bozeman. For a while, Thomas had gone off the rails, mixing with the wrong crowd and finding trouble around every corner. Working on the ranch had given him stability, somewhere to burn off the anger he’d buried deep inside himself. Over the last year, he’d lost interest in the friends he’d made after his dad left and was making an effort to be part of his family.

  Brett lifted a basket off the front seat and opened his door. If it weren’t for the police program, Thomas and Dave would have ended up on the streets, mixing with the wrong people and making bad choices.

  Before he was halfway up the brick path, the front door opened. He smiled at Laura. “Do you always answer the door?”

  She frowned. “Mom said you would be here soon. Don’t you want to come inside?”

  Brett sighed. That was twice in one morning that he’d said the wrong thing. Hopefully, he wasn’t about to make it three times. “I’d like to come inside and I’m glad you like answering the door.”

  Laura looked at him uncertainly. “Mom’s in the kitchen.”

  “Thanks.” He wiped his feet on the mat and followed Thomas’ sister into the hallway. Lavender and Lily were playing in the living room. They’d strung sheets over the furniture, making a large playhouse in the middle of the room.

  “Hi, Mr. Forster,” Lily said. “Do you like our castle?”

  “It’s amazing.”

  Lavender’s head peeked out from a gap in the sheets. “We’re princesses and Panda is my baby.” She held a black and white bear in the air. “We’re going to fight a dragon.”

  “That’s going to be Thomas,” Laura said with a grin. “Only he doesn’t know it, yet. Come on. Mom’s through here.”

  They maneuvered around the girls’ castle and walked into the kitchen. Thomas’ mom was standing at the stove.

  Brett smiled. “Hi, Cathy. Thanks for seeing me at such short notice.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He left the basket on the counter. “Something smells great.”

  “It’s spicy beef and black bean soup. All it needs is another hour to simmer and we’ll have a nice hot meal for dinner. What have you got there?”

  “Mrs. Bennett has been baking. She thought you might enjoy some Christmas treats.”

  Cathy wiped her hands on a dish towel. “That was nice of her, but she’s got enough to do without making things for us.”

  “You know what Mrs. Bennett’s like. She’s happiest when she’s in the kitchen. It gives her a lot of pleasure being able to cook for someone else.”

  Cathy peeked under the basket’s lid. “The food looks lovely. I’ll call her later to thank her. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t stay for long, but thanks for the offer. I’ve got something I need to ask you, but please don’t take offense.”

  “Thomas hasn’t been in trouble again, has he?”

  “No. It’s nothing like that.” Brett stuck his hands in his pockets. “An oil painting has gone missing from Pat’s home. It’s only small.” Brett held out his hands to show Cathy the size. “Pat hung it to the left of the attic stairs.”

  “Do you have a picture of what the painting looks like?”

  Brett pulled out a copy of the photograph Hannah had emailed him. “This is it.”

  Cathy studied the photo. “It’s a beautiful painting. I don’t remember seeing it while we were there. Do you think Thomas had something to do with its disappearance?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I’m here. We’ve looked everywhere and can’t find it.”

  “I’ll get Thomas. He’s in the garage working on our neighbor’s snow blower.”

  While Cathy was gone, Brett looked around the kitchen. There were pictures of Thomas and his sisters on the refrigerator and walls. They all looked happy to be together. In one photo, Thomas was standing beside a man who had the same strawberry blond hair.

  “That’s my dad,” Thomas said from the kitchen doorway. He visited us two years ago.”

  “You look alike.”

  “That’s what mom says, too. I didn’t know you were coming into town today.”

  “Neither did I,” Brett said. “Something hap
pened at the ranch and I need to ask you a couple of questions.”

  “Is Mr. McConachie all right?”

  “He’s fine, but we’ve lost a painting. It showed two little boys playing with their sailboats. It was hanging at the top of the stairs.”

  Thomas shook his head. “I don’t know where it’s gone. Have you asked Dave?”

  “I did that before I came into town.”

  “What about asking Hannah? She moved some of the paintings when she was helping Mr. McConachie with his art collection.”

  Brett shook his head. “She doesn’t know where it is.”

  Laura raced into the kitchen. “There you are. We need you to be a dragon.”

  Thomas frowned. “I’m helping Brett. Then after that, I’m going back to the garage to fix our neighbor’s snow blower.”

  “You promised you’d play with us.”

  “I helped you find the sheets and move the furniture.”

  Laura pouted. “That’s not enough. We’re princesses and we need a dragon.”

  “Brett’s lost one of Mr. McConachie’s paintings. That’s more important than being a dragon.”

  Her eyes shot to Brett. “Where did it go?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I’m here.”

  Laura looked at her brother, then turned to Brett. “Which one is missing?”

  “It was hanging on the wall at the top of the stairs. Two boys were playing in rock pools with their sailboats.”

  Laura’s cheeks flushed bright red.

  Thomas frowned. “Do you know where it’s gone?”

  She looked at the floor. “I didn’t mean to break it.”

  Brett’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

  “It was an accident.” Her big blue eyes pleaded with him. “Lily wanted to play ball and mom wouldn’t let us. So we went upstairs.”

  Brett didn’t know whether he was relieved or worried. “What happened to the painting?”

  “It fell down.” She took a deep breath. “We tried to fix it, but we couldn’t. I hid it in the closet.”

  “Upstairs?” Brett asked.

  Laura nodded. “We didn’t mean to break it, Mr. Forster. And we didn’t play ball no more, either.”

  “You should have told someone,” Thomas growled.

  “We would have gotten into trouble.”

  Thomas stuck his hands on his hips. “You’ll get in a lot more trouble for not telling anyone. Mr. McConachie’s paintings are worth a lot of money.”

  Tears filled Laura’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt anything.”

  Brett pulled out his cell phone. “Let’s sit down while I call Mr. McConachie.

  “Will I be put in prison?” Laura asked in a quiet voice.

  “No, but you should have told us,” Brett said. “We’ve spent a lot of time looking for the painting.”

  Laura stared miserably at the table. “I’m really sorry.”

  Thomas glared at his sister. “Mom’s always telling you not to throw balls inside. Maybe next time you’ll listen.”

  Brett called Pat’s cell phone. He just hoped the damage to the painting was repairable.

  Pat answered on the second ring. “I’ve been waiting for your call. Have you found the painting?”

  “Are you in the house?”

  “I’m downstairs in the living room,” Pat replied.

  “Go to the top of the stairs and look in the linen closet.”

  “But we already looked in there.”

  Brett glanced at Laura. Her hands were clasped in her lap and tears rolled down her cheeks. “Not hard enough, it seems.”

  “Hang on a minute.”

  Brett heard Pat walking up the stairs and opening the closet doors.

  “Okay. I’m here,” Pat said, “but I can’t see it.”

  Brett moved the phone away from his mouth. “Where in the closet is the painting, Laura?”

  “Down the bottom, at the back. I covered it with a towel.”

  Brett spoke to Pat. “Did you hear that?”

  “Loud and clear. I’ll put the phone down. My knees make it difficult to get up and down.”

  It seemed to take ages, but eventually Pat came back on the phone. “Found it. The frame is cracked, but I don’t think the painting has been damaged. How did it get in here?”

  Brett sat back in the kitchen chair. “Laura and her sister were playing ball upstairs. The painting was knocked off the wall.”

  “They should have told us.”

  “She knows that now.”

  “At least we’ve got the painting. Have you seen Dave?”

  Brett sighed. “Not yet. I’ll drive to his mom’s house soon.”

  “Good luck.”

  He’d need more than luck to navigate through Dave’s emotional minefield. But first, Laura had an apology to make. “Hold the line a minute, Pat. Laura’s got something to say to you.”

  Laura’s eyes shot open. She looked as though she was about to bolt from the room.

  Thomas gave her a nudge.

  With a worried frown, she held out her hand for the phone. “Mr. McConachie?” she whispered. “I’m really sorry for bouncing the ball inside and not telling you about the painting.”

  Brett couldn’t hear Pat’s reply, but Laura solemnly nodded, listening intently to what he said.

  Laura had learned a valuable lesson today. Now all he needed to do was make sure Dave was okay.

  ***

  After Brett left Thomas’ home, he called Dave’s mom. It was just as well. Dave wasn’t at home, but he’d called her an hour ago to say he was staying with some friends.

  He was on his way over there now, hoping Dave had calmed down enough to understand why he’d asked him about the painting.

  The street he was driving down wasn’t far from town. With its two-story homes and old, gnarly trees, it had more character than most of the new subdivisions in Bozeman.

  He looked at the mailboxes and slowed down. Dave’s friends lived on a corner property. Someone had strung Christmas lights through a tall pine tree in the front yard. It looked like a typical family home, but Brett was still cautious. He knew some of the friends Dave had hung out with before he’d come to the ranch. They were bad news and there was every chance they hadn’t changed.

  He parked his truck and made his way to the front door. Unlike Laura’s enthusiastic welcome, this door stayed firmly closed.

  He knocked, then peered through the glass panels beside the door. The woman walking down the hallway surprised him. Instead of the twenty-something delinquent he’d expected to see, this woman was closer to fifty. Dressed in jeans and a thick sweater, she could have been anyone’s mom.

  She opened the door. “Can I help you?”

  Brett took off his hat and held out his hand. “I’m Brett Forster, ma’am. Dave Buchanan’s mom said he was staying here. Could I speak to him?”

  “I’m Maria Chapman.” She hesitated before continuing. “Dave has told me about you. Could you come back another day? Dave isn’t feeling all that well at the moment.”

  “Is he okay?”

  She looked over her shoulder. “Come with me.”

  Brett followed her into a comfortable living room.

  She closed the door into the hallway before offering him a seat. “Dave has been hurt. He asked me not to say anything to his mom until he’s feeling better.”

  Brett was glad he was sitting down. “What happened?”

  Maria sighed. “Before he arrived at his mom’s house, he saw two men parked down the road. He drove around town for ten minutes, but they were still there when he came back. He approached their truck and asked them what they were doing.”

  Brett had a horrible feeling about where this conversation was heading.

  “The men had been looking for Dave. They beat him up, warned him about not helping his father, then left him in the gutter.”

  “Has he been to the hospital?”

  “He wouldn’t go.”

 
Brett clenched his jaw. “He’ll go with me. Where is he?”

  Maria shook her head. “Dave is a friend of my son’s. I promised he’d be safe here.”

  “He’ll be safer if he goes to the hospital. He needs a doctor to look at him.”

  “I don’t think you realize how worried he is. Dave thinks that if he goes to the hospital, the staff will call the police. He doesn’t want his family to get into any more trouble.”

  Brett stood. “I’ll make sure they’re safe. Where is he, Maria?”

  “I’m only doing this because I know how much Dave looks up to you. But he’s fragile. You have to be gentle with him.”

  “I promise I won’t upset him.”

  Maria opened the living room door and walked down the hallway. She pointed to a room on the left. “He’s in there. If you need anything, let me know.”

  “Thank you.”

  Maria nodded and left him in the hallway.

  Brett knocked on the door. When he didn’t hear anything, he slowly turned the handle. “Dave? Are you all right?”

  “Not really,” came a muffled reply.

  He stepped into the room.

  Dave was sitting semi-upright in bed.

  It was just as well Maria had warned Brett about the beating. His breath caught when he saw Dave’s face. “You’ll have a couple of black eyes.”

  “It looks worse than it is.” Dave winced as he pulled himself higher in the bed.

  “Are you sure about that?”

  Dave dropped his head to his chest. “I’m not sure about anything. I’m sorry I left.”

  Brett sat on the end of the bed. “We’ve found the painting. Thomas’ sister knocked it off the wall and hid it in the linen closet.”

  “Why did she do that?”

  “She knew she’d be in trouble for throwing a ball inside the house.”

  Dave tried taking a deep breath.

  With the amount of pain he was in, Brett wouldn’t be surprised if Dave had cracked some ribs. “Pat said the frame is broken, but the painting looks okay.”

  “That’s good.”

  Silence stretched across the small room. Brett wanted to bundle Dave into his truck and take him to the hospital. But he needed to give him a chance to do the sensible thing and ask for help.