Bear My Heart: A Small Town Paranormal Romance

by Natalie Kristen

  Frowning, Dot took the envelope and opened it. She pulled out a piece of paper and froze.

  The envelope fluttered to the floor as she pressed her hand to her mouth to stopper her scream.

  “Logan,” she whispered. “W-who gave this to you?”

  “A man.”

  Olga jerked her head up and scanned the crowded library, the blood draining from her face.

  All she saw were school kids, their parents, a bunch of elderly ladies sitting round a table and a couple of harried librarians.

  “Where is he?” she hissed.

  “Huh?” Logan was peering at her curiously.

  “The man.” Olga grabbed Logan's shoulder. “The man who gave this to you. Where is he now?”

  “I don't know.” The boy looked a little frightened. “He just pointed you out to me and told me to hand the envelope to you.”

  “Did he say anything else?”

  Logan canted his head. “Yeah. He asked me if I knew your name. I told him it was Dot. And he laughed.”

  Olga stared around wildly, trying to see where the Artist was. He was here, in plain sight. But she had never seen his face. He could be anyone.

  “I'm going to look for Leo,” Logan said, scampering away. “He's going to be in so much trouble. Mom told us to stay in the children's section.”

  Olga turned and scanned all the faces in the library, her fists clenched painfully at her sides.

  Where are you? Who are you? She wanted to scream.

  Her chest constricted, making it almost impossible to breathe. She had to get out of here. She needed air.

  Gasping for breath, she stumbled blindly out of the library.

  She stood blinking for a few seconds in the afternoon sun, taking rapid, shallow breaths.

  A hand closed around her arm.

  “Hello, Daniella.”

  She recognized the voice of the Artist at once.

  Olga jerked round to see a well-dressed man with pale blond hair standing beside her. The man removed his shades and Olga gasped.

  “But...you...you're in jail!”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  “Stay where you are, Megan. I'm on my way.” Troy threw his hammer into his toolbox and turned to Brandon. “I'm sorry but...”

  Brandon dumped the wooden plank on the floor and dusted his large hands. “I'm going with you. I'll just go in and tell Mr Wilkins that we can't finish putting up his shelves today.”

  Troy nodded. He knew Brandon had heard his conversation with Megan. Megan was screaming so loudly he'd had to hold his phone away from his ear. No doubt Brandon had heard Megan's every word.

  Megan had been screaming into the phone. “I've searched everywhere! I can't find Leo! Logan said Leo went to the bathroom. I went in there, and...I saw—I saw some drops of blood on the bathroom floor! It's Leo's! I know it is! I don't know where...” The rest of Megan's words were drowned by her hysterical sobs.

  Brandon disappeared into the house and Troy began to pack up quickly. In less than a minute, he heard Mr Wilkins's walking stick tap-tapping towards him.

  “There's a family emergency, I understand,” Mr Wilkins said. “Go. Don't worry about the mess. You boys can come back and finish up the job any time.”

  “Thank you, Mr Wilkins,” Troy said.

  “Go.” The old man waved his walking stick and shooed them off.

  Troy jumped into his truck and sped off. Brandon tailgated him in his old sturdy SUV. The SUV had belonged to Brandon's dad, and Brandon was determined to keep the vehicle forever.

  They skidded to a stop in front of the library and scrambled out of their vehicles. They would probably get a ticket each for illegal parking but they didn't care.

  Brandon was through the door first. The guy loved the twins like they were his own nephews. He spoiled those rascals rotten.

  Megan was on the phone behind the counter, speaking rapidly and rather incoherently. Two librarians and a few parents were standing with her.

  Megan's eyes were red and puffy and she stood up as soon as she saw Troy and Brandon. Logan was sitting at her side, fidgeting anxiously.

  “I just called all of Leo's friends and classmates,” Megan said in a hysterical, high-pitched voice. “He's not with them.” She turned pleadingly to Troy. “I called the Sheriff as well. He's on his way. I don't know what else to do...”

  “We'll find him,” Troy said. He looked around quickly. “Where's Ol...Dot?”

  Megan sniffed. “I don't know. I asked her to come home with me and have dinner together. She was supposed to meet me out front. I went to get the boys, and I only found Logan. I haven't seen her...”

  “I saw Dot,” Logan interjected.

  Megan rounded on him. “When? Where?”

  “That's what I've been trying to tell you, Mom,” Logan cried. “But you kept interrupting and asking me about Leo.”

  Troy looked at his nephew who was fighting back angry, frightened tears. “Logan,” Troy said gently. “When did you see Dot?”

  “J-just before Mom ran up to me and demanded to know where Leo was,” Logan stammered, glancing at his mother.

  “Was Dot alone when you saw her? Where did you see her?” Troy continued.

  Logan nodded. “She was standing here, in front of the counter. She was alone. The man said to give her the envelope only if she was alone.”

  “What man?”

  “What envelope?”

  “Why didn't you tell us?”

  Logan looked scared as he stared at the adults in front of him. “Did I do something wrong?” he whimpered. “Mom?”

  “No, sweetheart, of course not.” Megan wiped away her tears and hugged her son. “Of course not.”

  “Logan, who told you to give Dot the envelope?” Troy demanded.

  “A man. I was reading a book when a man came and sat beside me. He knew my name. He told me to give Dot the envelope.”

  “Did you see Dot open the envelope?”

  Logan nodded. “Yeah. She pulled out a piece of paper. Then I ran off to find Leo.”

  Megan turned around and grabbed Troy's hands. “Oh, Troy, what's happening? This doesn't make sense...”

  “Someone is stalking Dot. But he's not just a stalker,” Troy snarled. “Dot...Olga, her real name is Olga. She's been hiding and running from him for years.”

  Brandon caught Megan as her legs gave out suddenly. Her eyes were wide with horror and comprehension. “Running? What do you mean?” Megan whispered. “Who is this man she's running from?”

  “The man who is after Olga is a rapist and a murderer.”

  Megan froze. “And he has Leo,” she said, with a mother's unerring intuition. “The blood on the bathroom floor...” Her voice was impassive and frighteningly calm.

  Then she screamed.

  “No! No!” Megan struggled furiously but Brandon held her tight.

  At that moment, the Sheriff and his deputy rushed into the library.

  Megan slid to the floor, her face twisted in anguish. “I want to find my baby! Please find my baby! If he's harmed a hair on Leo's head, I will kill him! I swear I will kill him!”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Olga sat in the back seat and cradled Leo's head in her lap. The boy twitched and whimpered softly but his eyes remained closed. “Wake up, Leo,” she whispered, shaking him gently. The boy's lower lip was split but it was no longer bleeding.

  Olga looked up and scowled. “What did you do to him? Let him go. It's me you want. The boy has nothing to do with this. With me.”

  The Artist laughed but he didn't stop the car.

  Olga jerked at the handle but the car door remained locked. She stared out the tinted window and realized that she was invisible to the people on the street. All they would see was a car with dark windows zooming past. They couldn't see her and Leo in the back seat.

  The Artist had warned her as he escorted her to the car, “If you attract attention to y
ourself, I'll press this little red button.” He showed her a small device like a remote control in his pocket. “Boom! The car explodes, with the boy in it.”

  He had been quick and meticulous. He'd knocked Leo unconscious in the bathroom and dragged the boy into a cubicle. A window pane had already been removed. He bundled the boy through the window and climbed out. In a minute, he had the boy safely stowed in his car. All he had to do was walk calmly round to the front of the library and wait.

  Olgawatched the Artist as he drove them swiftly out of town. When she met his eyes in the rear view mirror, she shivered and looked away.

  She remembered his eyes. The Artist had always worn a hood when he was with her. He had held her for five months and she had never seen his face. Only his eyes.

  And his greenish-blue eyes had looked so much like Steven Quinn's. At first glance, she had thought that he was Steven Quinn, the man who was serving time for all those crimes he'd confessed to. But he wasn't Steven Quinn. He was the Artist.

  He wasn't wearing a hood now. He was wearing a nice suit, with a light blue shirt under the jacket. He looked like any ordinary, nondescript business executive or salesman. His pale blond hair was neatly combed back and he was wearing boring wire-rimmed glasses. No one would pay much attention to him. He didn't look dangerous and he didn't stand out.

  But his eyes.

  They were as cold and cruel as she remembered.

  Olga stared at his side profile again.

  She couldn't believe how alike they looked.

  She had known all along that Steven Quinn wasn't the Artist.

  Steven Quinn had a twin brother.

  Steven and Simon Quinn were the spoiled grandsons of a reclusive millionaire. The Quinn brothers were wealthy, privileged trust fund kids. They were too used to taking what they wanted without having to work for anything.

  “Why would your brother do that?” Olga asked softly.

  “Hmm?” The Artist gave a sardonic smile.

  “Why did Steven Quinn confess to your crimes?”

  “Because Steven's a fool.”

  They were driving out of Bear Cove and heading down a long, lonely stretch of highway. There were no cars on the road, no buildings anywhere in sight. Only the trees stood silently at the side of the road and watched a black car disappear over the horizon in a cloud of dust.

  “Simon Quinn,” Olga said his name out loud. He had been sitting at the back of the courtroom that day, listening to her testimony and nodding at his brother's convincing performance.

  As the landscape became more remote and desolate, Simon Quinn relaxed visibly. He leaned back in the driver's seat and glanced over his shoulder at her.

  “I miss you, Daniella. Oh how I've missed you.” Simon released a long sigh. “But now you'll never leave me again. You'll be my muse, forever, my Daniella.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Troy told Sheriff Bob the facts as quickly as he could, and he saw the skepticism on the Sheriff's face. Sheriff Bob rubbed his chin, frowning deeply. “Are you sure this guy is the Artist? The Artist was convicted and sentenced. The guy confessed...”

  “Yes,” Troy said impatiently. “The guy confessed. And he did commit some of the crimes he confessed to. But he is not the Artist.”

  They were standing outside the library, and Troy's eyes darted all around. He couldn't have gone very far. Could the Artist have hidden Leo and Olga somewhere nearby? He was a master at hiding in plain sight.

  Deputy Kane came jogging round from the back of the library. “A window in the toilet at the back of the library has been removed. That's probably how he got the boy out.”

  “Any witnesses?”

  “Nobody saw anything. I spoke to the librarians and some parents but I got nothing concrete. Their accounts weren't even consistent,” the Deputy said.

  Troy turned on his heel and strode away.

  “Troy!” Sheriff Bob barked. “Where do you think you're going?”

  “To get my mate and my nephew,” Troy snarled.

  “Wait...”

  “I'm not waiting another second,” Troy snapped. “Look, Sheriff. I understand your position. There's not much evidence. It's just my word, my crazed, unfounded suspicions. You don't know who or what you're looking for. But I do.”

  “What will you do?” Sheriff Bob asked, running up to him. “You can't do this alone. I'll call for reinforcements...”

  Troy put a hand on the Sheriff's shoulder. The Sheriff and his deputy were good men. The tiny Sheriff Department of Bear Cove was understaffed and often overlooked, but they did their best with the limited budget and resources they had.

  “Stay and protect the town,” Troy told the Sheriff. “Make sure no one else is missing.”

  Troy strode to his truck and wrenched the door open. “I will hunt the Artist down.”

  “You can't go alone,” Deputy Kane began nervously.

  “Don't worry, I think I can handle a psychopath on my own.” Troy gave a grim smile. “I'm a bear shifter.”

  “And two bears are better than one,” Brandon declared, stuffing himself into the passenger seat. “That's what my dad used to say.”

  “Brandon,” Troy said. “You don't need to do this.”

  “That's Uncle Brandon,” Brandon said hotly, glaring at him. “Leo and Logan have been calling me 'Uncle Brandon' since they could talk. Look, I know you're their real uncle, and I'm not, but...”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Troy said and started the engine. “You're their favorite uncle.”

  As he turned out to the main road, Troy leaned out the window and shouted to Sheriff Bob, “Tell Megan I'll bring Leo home. I promise.”

  The Sheriff nodded. “Be careful.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Olga looked down and saw that Leo was beginning to stir. She hoped that Simon Quinn hadn't heard the boy groaning softly.

  To distract Simon, she said loudly, “I still don't understand why your brother would take the rap for you.”

  “As I said, Steven's a bloody fool.” Simon laughed. “He thought he was doing it for his daughter.”

  Olga started. “Steven Quinn has a daughter?”

  “Yes. An unfortunate product of one of his rapes. My brother felt...responsible for the girl,” Simon said in disgust. “He knew he wouldn't get away with his crimes. But he wanted to provide for his little girl.”

  “So he cut me a deal.” Simon shrugged. “Our grandfather set up a trust fund for the both of us. If I agree to transfer my half of the trust fund to his daughter, Steven would confess to everything and go to jail for me. There was enough evidence to put him away for a long, long time. He left his prints, his DNA all over the place. He wasn't like me. I was real careful. Nothing can be traced to me,” Simon laughed and shrugged. “Steven figured he was going to jail anyway, so why not do it for his baby girl?”

  Simon met her eyes in the rear-view mirror and said with a quiet laugh, “Steven is not like me at all. He's not an artist. He doesn't appreciate beauty and art. He just takes what he wants and discards them when he's done with them. I, on the other hand, like to keep my possessions close to me.”

  Dot lowered her eyes so he wouldn't see her panic and revulsion.

  “You are my muse, Daniella. There's been no one else like you. You shouldn't have run from me, Daniella.” Simon clucked his tongue reproachfully.

  “I...I was wrong,” Olga stuttered. “I won't run away again. I'll stay with you. I'll be your muse.”

  Simon smiled thinly. “You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say that, Daniella.”

  “You have me.” Olga sucked in a quick breath to stop her voice from trembling. “You don't need the boy. You can let him go. He won't remember a thing, so he can't identify you.”

  Simon smirked. “So you care for the kid.”

  “No! No I don't. I don't even like kids,” she lied. “Having this kid with us will just slow us down. I
was thinking of us, that's all.”

  Simon chortled. “I love you, Daniella. I've always loved you. I've loved you since I first saw you walking to school. It was fate.”

  Olga bit her lip hard.

  “I took a wrong turn that morning and ended up in your neighborhood. I was looking for a street sign when I saw you coming out of that house, and walking down the street. Your face...there was just so much sadness and beauty there. I drove behind you and followed you to school. I waited until I saw you again. Every morning, I waited for you, Daniella. I told myself I would have you one day.”

  Olga tasted bile in her throat. She forced herself to remain still and expressionless as she concentrated on breathing. The air in the car was stale and suffocating, and she felt she was going to be sick.

  Simon's face twisted suddenly. “I would have let you go, you know. I appreciate beauty and I create art. I would never have wanted to destroy something as beautiful as you, Daniella.”

  His eyes narrowed in hate and fury. “But you ruined everything. You ran from me and destroyed everything we'd built together. You destroyed my trust, my drawings, my art. You destroyed my soul, Daniella!”

  Olga held onto Leo as Simon swerved suddenly, sending them smashing against the side door.

  “So here we are.” Simon stomped on the brakes and gave her an ugly smile. “We're going to pick up right where we left off.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Troy scowled as he sped along the never-ending stretch of highway. He hadn't passed a single vehicle.

  He hadn't caught up with the Artist, but he was on the right track.

  “Are you sure?” Brandon asked again, squinting into the distance. “He may have gone the other way...”

  “No. He would have taken this route. There are hardly any cars along this road. He wouldn't risk being seen and caught. Not when he's finally gotten his hands on her,” Troy snarled.