Next Comes Love

by Helen Brenna

  Home. I’m sorry. Come home. He couldn’t imagine the place without her. Without her voice, without the smell of her cooking, without her intensity bringing the place alive. He chastised himself again for the selfish, shortsighted, pain-induced, hurtful things he’d said to her that morning. He couldn’t blame her if she never spoke to him again.

  The faint sound of a voice filtered through the trees. At least he thought it was a voice. Erica? What the—

  “No!” That was unmistakably her voice.

  He raced down the dark drive and saw the outline of three people dimly lit in the light at the base of his drive. Erica, Jason and…Billy Samson. He knew it without even seeing the man’s face. Keeping his distance, he pulled up short of the group. “Erica. Jason. You guys okay?”

  “Garrett!” She glanced at him, but didn’t move. “He’s trying to make Jason leave with him.”

  “Jason,” Garrett said. “Go on over to Erica.”

  “He’s not going anywhere,” Billy said, gripping Jason’s arm and pulling him back. “Unless it’s with me.”

  “Why don’t you and I settle this alone? Keep Erica and Jason out of it.”

  “Oh, we’ll settle it, all right.” Billy reached inside his jacket, pulled out a handgun, and pointed it at Garrett. “Up at your house.”

  Garrett didn’t move.

  “Get your hands up and go. Now.” He pointed the gun at Erica. “Or she’s dead.”

  Without a choice, Garrett signaled for Erica to join him. The moment she reached his side, he headed with her up the hill.

  “What are we going to do?” she whispered.

  “Shut up and move,” Billy said.

  Garrett walked slowly. In a few minutes, they’d reach the house. Once inside, they wouldn’t have a chance in hell of getting away. This guy was a cop, trained, and probably a damned good shot. The only option they had was to run into the woods in opposite directions and hope to jump Billy before he left with Jason. He had no way of communicating that to Erica.

  “Billy, you don’t need to do this,” Garrett said. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

  “You think so, huh?”

  He touched Erica’s arm and signaled with his thumbs. She seemed to be following him. You go right. I go left. One. Two. Thr—

  Behind him there was quick movement on the gravel road just before pain, blinding in intensity, shot through Garrett’s head.

  Erica screamed. “Garr—!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  INEFFECTIVELY, ERICA struggled against the twine tying her hands behind the chair. The thin string bit into her skin, and all she could do was mumble and groan around the scarf tied over her mouth as Billy dragged Garrett’s unconscious body into the house, threw him onto a chair and tied him up.

  The sight of poor Jason standing in the corner, frightened speechless, had her redoubling her efforts. If there was any humanly possible way for her to stop him, Billy was not getting off this island with her nephew.

  Billy finished tying up Garrett. “Bye!” He mock saluted her and yanked Jason with him out the door.

  Erica frantically glanced around for anything she might use to get free. If she could get her hands on the scissors by the phone, she might be able to cut through the twine cinching her wrists. She hopped the chair over to the desk and managed with her head to knock over the cup holding a menagerie of desk supplies. Pens and pencils scattered and the scissors slid to the edge. Turning her back to the desk, she grabbed the scissors in her hand, opened it and worked to cut through the twine.

  This was going to take forever. Billy was going to be gone with Jason by the time she managed to get free. She felt herself panicking and almost dropped the scissors.

  “Mmmm,” Garrett groaned in pain, and blinked open his eyes.

  “Garrett!” she mumbled around the scarf. “Wake up.”

  “What the hell?” He took in her tied-up state and struggled against his own bindings. “Dammit!” With great force, he hopped up and down on the chair, threw himself off center, managing to land lopsided on one leg and cracked the frame. Another few hops and the chair broke apart. He shook himself free of the wood pieces and then loosened the ropes.

  He ran to Erica, grabbed the scissors and cut the rest of the way through the ropes binding her hands. While she worked off the gag, he cut through the binding on her feet.

  “Let’s go!” she yelled.

  “Wait!” He ran upstairs. “I’m not going after him unarmed.” He came back down a second later, carrying a gun.

  “Billy killed my sister!” Erica said as they ran down the hill. “Her body washed up on the shore of Lake Michigan this morning.”

  “We’ll get him, Erica. One way or another.”

  They reached town and raced to the marina. On hearing a commotion, Garrett slowed her down and then stopped her altogether. A few lampposts lit the area, making it clear a group of people had gathered. Arlo, Lynn and several pub regulars blocked Billy’s access to the boats. Garrett and Erica met Herman as he came running into the marina, his gun ready.

  “That way,” Garrett whispered, pointing to his right. “Don’t shoot unless you’ve got a clear shot at him.”

  “We’re not moving,” Arlo said. “Not until you let go of that boy.”

  “He’s my son!” Billy yelled.

  “Proves some people don’t deserve to be parents,” Lynn said.

  These people, folks she’d known for such a short time, had all but adopted her and Jason. Why? How? It didn’t make sense that they’d risk their lives like this.

  “Get out of my way, old woman, or you’ll be the first to die.” Billy pointed the gun at Lynn.

  “No!” Jason tugged away from Billy and ran to Lynn, throwing his arms around her waist.

  “Get back here, Jason, or so help me—”

  “No!” Jason yelled.

  Good for you, Jason. Erica moved toward Billy.

  Garrett grabbed her arm. “Stay back. This guy’s got nothing to lose.” He aimed the gun at Billy. “You’re under arrest, Billy Samson. Put your weapon down!”

  Billy spun around. And fired. Garrett was already moving. He jolted forward and tackled Billy. The gun flew from Billy’s hand. Erica ran over, picked it up and yelled, “Stop!”

  Billy had no intention of going down without a fight. He went after Garrett like a wild man. In no time, there was blood all over both of their shirts.

  Garrett’s blood, Erica realized with a sick heart. He’d been shot and was bleeding heavily. Garrett blocked several punches, threw a few of his own, and when Billy came at him again, managed to shift out of the way, tripping Billy and knocking him facedown onto the marina pavement. Garrett jumped onto Billy’s back and wrestled his arms behind him.

  Erica ran to Jason and threw her arms around him. “Are you okay?”

  He nodded.

  “You’re done, Billy!” Garrett yelled.

  Billy went deathly still as his gaze locked with Erica’s. “You have to believe me. I didn’t mean for it to happen. One day everything was fine and the next day Marie was asking for a divorce.”

  “So you killed her?”

  “You think I wanted to?”

  “Just because she was leaving—”

  “It was an accident!” Billy thrashed back and forth. “I told her I’d do anything, but she’d already made up her mind. I tried to stop her, but she made it to the garage. I pulled her back, and she hit her head on the workbench. Wasn’t that hard. Hell, she even made it into her car, but then she didn’t move. I went to her, tried to wake her up. There was blood on her head.” He went still. “Shoot me! Get it over with!”

  “Oh, no.” Garrett grabbed handcuffs from Herman and slapped them on Billy’s wrists. “You’re going to get exactly what you deserve. Prison for the rest of your life.”

  “WELL, THAT’S IT.” Sitting in the conference room at the Mirabelle police station, the FBI agent closed his file. “I’ve got your phone number in case we need an
ything. You’re free to go.”

  With the first pale light of sunrise illuminating the morning sky, Erica stared at the man. “What does that mean?”

  The two Chicago cops who’d previously interrogated her were sitting at the other end of the table. One of them gave her a small smile filled with a lot of compassion. “It means, Erica, that you can stay here on Mirabelle. Or go back to Chicago.”

  “Whatever you want,” said the other one, standing up. “Billy signed a full confession. You’re free to go.”

  Free to leave Mirabelle. Free to get on with her life.

  “Once you deal with custody over Jason,” said the first Chicago cop, “you can move to France if you want.”

  Custody of Jason. She’d almost forgotten about that. She’d just assumed he’d be staying with her, but what if his paternal grandparents wanted to fight for custody?

  All through the night, Mirabelle had been overrun by various forms of law enforcement and swarms of news reporters. Between the questioning from the cops and the interviews with reporters, she’d barely had a moment alone to think. In a day or two, they’d all be leaving. Life would get back to normal. Normal. She’d forgotten what that felt like.

  She walked out of the conference room and found Garrett’s office empty. She hadn’t had a moment alone with him since this whole deal had come to a head. Out in the reception area, Jason was sound asleep in the chair next to Herman’s desk. Sometime during the night, he’d overheard one of the reporters talking about Marie. Between that and what his dad had said down at the marina last night, the poor kid had put two and two together. He’d cried while she’d held him, but thankfully, exhausted after his ordeal, he’d fallen asleep. They’d have plenty of time to talk about what had happened, but now wasn’t that time.

  “You need some help getting home?” Herman whispered. “It’s been a long night.”

  “We’ll be all right, Herman.” She smiled. “Thank you. For everything.”

  “No problem.”

  She touched Jason on the shoulder, hoping to gently rouse him. He stirred and quickly, as if frightened, opened his eyes. The moment he saw her, he flew into her arms.

  “Hey. It’s okay.” She held him, rocking back and forth. The grip he had around her neck was so tight, she almost couldn’t breathe. Safe and sound, Marie. He’s safe and sound. “We’re going to be all right, you and me.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yeah, kiddo. I promise.” Holding Jason in her arms, she stood up and headed for the door. She grabbed the handle and turned back. “Herman? Where’s Garrett?”

  “He left a couple minutes ago. Doc Welinsky insisted he get his arm stitched up.”

  Good. That was good. That meant she wouldn’t have to say goodbye.

  GARRETT SAT IN DOC WELINSKI’S office getting the gunshot wound to his arm stitched up. He’d wanted to wait until the feds were finished questioning Erica, but his damned arm was throbbing, and Doc had practically dragged him out of the police station.

  “You were lucky,” Doc said. “You lost a lot of blood, but that bullet was only a few inches away from an artery.”

  It hadn’t hit anyone else, that’s all that mattered as far as Garrett was concerned. Billy Samson was behind bars, and the FBI and several Chicago detectives, having been close on Samson’s trail, were back at the police station, taking statements. Erica and Jason were safe. It was over.

  “Well, I have to admit,” Doc said. “All this excitement got my old ticker going, that’s for sure.”

  There was a knock on the door, and a nurse poked her head inside the room. “Sally McGregor’s on the phone for you.”

  “Tell her I’ll call her back as soon as I’m done here,” Doc said.

  “Actually, Doc, she wants to talk to Garrett.” The nurse held out the cordless phone.

  Garrett glanced at the nurse. “Why?”

  “She wouldn’t say.”

  Doc grabbed the phone. “Sally, what is it? Garrett’s a little busy getting stitches.” Doc fell quiet, the phone to his ear, and Garrett turned woozy. He could hear a woman’s voice coming over the line, but couldn’t make out a single word. “All right. I’ll tell him.” Doc hung up the phone.

  “What did she want?”

  Doc quickly tied off the last stitch and snipped the thread. “It’s Erica.”

  “Is she okay?” Garrett sat up. The room seemed to swim.

  “Whoa!” Doc steadied him.

  “Dammit, Doc. Tell me why Sally called.”

  “She saw Erica and Jason heading to Duffy’s with two suitcases.”

  “What? Now?”

  Doc nodded. “She said it looks like they’re leaving the island.”

  Garrett hopped down from the table and nearly fell to his knees.

  “Hold on there.” Doc quickly slapped a large gauze pad over Garrett’s wound and wrapped a strip of medical tape around his arm. “Okay. Go.”

  Garrett grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head with his one good arm.

  “Don’t let that girl leave this island,” Doc called as Garrett moved as fast as he could down the hallway. “Or that gunshot will be the least of your worries.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  ERICA WAS EVEN WORSE at goodbyes than she was at hellos. It would be best for everyone if she and Jason left Mirabelle the same way they’d come. Quickly and quietly.

  They’d gone as fast as they could up to Garrett’s house and crammed as much as possible into the two suitcases she’d bought all those months ago. Then she’d taken all the clothes Lynn had given her at the beginning of the summer and placed them in a paper bag. Her hands started shaking as she prepared to leave Garrett’s house, but she wouldn’t let herself look around, wouldn’t let this get any harder than it had to be. Together Erica and Jason headed back down the hill toward the town center.

  They hadn’t gotten very far when Jason asked, “Erica, where are we going?”

  “I need to drop a few things off for Lynn, and then we’re going back to Chicago.”

  At that he stopped.

  “Are you leaving me in Chicago?” he asked, his voice tight and small.

  “What? No.” She struggled to find the right words, knowing she wouldn’t be able to talk about Billy without the hostility she felt toward him tainting every word. She wasn’t sure that was what Jason needed to hear. “We have to talk about who you’re going to live with and where.”

  He looked down at the ground. “I know.”

  She wasn’t sure what kind of a relationship he had with his paternal grandparents, but they could be the kind who bought ponies and spoiled kids. “Your grandparents might ask if you could live with them. What do you think?”

  She was scared, scared that he’d choose his grandparents over her. “You can be honest with me,” she said. Even though it might break my heart. “You can tell me exactly what you’re thinking. No matter what you say, I will always love you.” When he didn’t say anything, she knelt in front of him. “Jason, do you want to live with your grandparents?”

  He looked into her eyes. “Don’t you want me?”

  “Of course I want you.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. I don’t know what I ever did without you in my life.”

  “Then I want to live with you.”

  She pulled him into her arms and hugged him as tightly as she thought his little frame could stand. “Okay, then. That’s the way it’s going to be. You and me.”

  “What about Garrett?”

  Erica hated the idea of uprooting him from Garrett’s house, from this island, but it was time to move on. She had to move on. “Garrett has his own life. Here on Mirabelle. He was helping to protect us while we needed it, and now everything’s okay. We don’t need to live with him any longer.”

  “We could still stay here. On the island.”

  “Our lives, yours and mine, are back in Chicago. I think it’s best if we go home.”

  Jason nodded, but didn’t say a
word.

  They continued on toward Duffy’s. This early in the morning no one would be about. They could easily sneak through the back door to return the clothes Lynn had lent to her at the beginning of summer along with the notebook detailing all of Erica’s recipes and the set of keys Lynn had given her to the restaurant.

  After leaving their suitcases in the alley, she unlocked the back door and, holding Jason’s hand, walked quietly to Lynn’s office. She set the bag of clothing on the floor and the recipe notebook and keys on top of Lynn’s desk. A note seemed appropriate, but she wouldn’t have known what to say.

  “Let’s go.” She reached for Jason’s hand, stepped out into the bar and took one last look around, emotions clogging her throat.

  “I’m going to miss this place,” Jason whispered.

  “Me, too.”

  The back door opened and footsteps sounded down the hallway. Erica clenched her jaw and closed her eyes for a moment. You’re doing the right thing. For everyone. She turned.

  Lynn came into the bar. “So after everything we’ve been through together—” she stalked toward Erica and stopped ten feet away, as if she didn’t trust herself to come any closer “—I don’t even get two weeks notice?”

  “I thought it would be better this way.”

  “Better for who?”

  “Everyone.”

  “Well, I got news for you, dearie. Everyone is going to miss you and Jason.” She bent down and Jason ran into her arms. Holding him in her arms, she stood. “Even Sally McGregor. From her post office window she saw you coming down the hill with suitcases and figured I’d want to know.”

  “I’m sorry, Lynn. I didn’t want to make this harder than it had to be.” Erica swallowed back the tears. “The police said I could leave. So I thought this would be for the best.”

  “You don’t have to leave.”

  “Yes, I do.” This place was too painful. She felt open and raw and exposed. “There’s nothing here for me. For us.”