by Jacie Floyd
Dylan. Her face warmed just thinking his name, but she feared she’d made a terrible mistake. Not by sleeping with him, that was a pleasure she would never regret. How have I become so crazy about him in such a short time? Despite her actions of the night before, she never indulged in light affairs, and light, emotionless affairs were his calling card.
Maybe the best she could hope for was that he never learned how much the episode meant to her. Keeping things going forward on an easy and uncomplicated level had been her goal throughout the morning.
She wasn’t completely sure that she loved him. Only that she didn’t want to. No matter what, she couldn’t imagine anything permanent in their future. When he left for the last time, she’d smile him on his way or die trying. Even if her heart left with him.
Maybe this break would give her time to sort through her feelings and get her equilibrium back. But his departure left her more unsettled instead of less. If only he weren’t flying.
A breeze drifted through the screen and pulled her toward the window. She craned her neck in search of a plane, but nothing except fluffy white clouds filled the vivid blue sky.
After checking on David again, she made a low-voiced call. At the other end of the line, Gran fretted over the fire at the cabin and expressed concern for David and Clay. Gracie asked if she could get along without her for a while.
“Of course, dear. David and Clay need you more than I do today.”
“What about Granddad? Since I took the truck this morning and left your car at the cabin last night, you don’t even have a ride to the hospital.”
“Dylan volunteered to take me to the car when he goes to meet the insurance investigator.”
“He’s still there?” Maybe he wasn’t going to leave after all. Stop that, she ordered her racing heart. Of course, he was leaving.
“He brought his bags down earlier, but hasn’t left yet. He said he had to make some phone calls first.”
She tried to swallow her disappointment, but it stuck in her throat like a fish bone.
“I’ll stall your grandfather as long as I can, but if you aren’t at the hospital by noon, I’ll send for the ambulance.”
“He won’t like that,” Gracie warned.
“No, but he’ll be so glad to leave the hospital that he’d let me roll him home like a bowling ball if I need to.”
Gracie smiled, imagining the sight as she replaced the receiver, but her smile disappeared as David’s agitation returned. She checked the time. Too soon to re-administer the sedative.
When he spoke, he slurred his words. “Is it true? Did they find Lana this morning?” Reaching for Gracie, his fingers gripped her wrist.
“Yes,” she said in a calm voice.
With each labored breath, he shrank a little more. “Where’s Clay?”
“He’ll be back soon.” She leaned closer to him. “Is there something you want? Anything I can do?”
“No, no.” Distress marched across his features. “I wanted to tell him... I should have done something.”
She made shushing sounds. “It wasn’t your fault. There wasn’t anything you could have done to prevent it.”
“I should have told someone.” His head thrashed from side to side. “She made me promise not to tell, but I should have anyway.”
“David, please.” Taking his wrist, she checked his pulse. “You know Lana wouldn’t have wanted you to break a confidence. You couldn’t do that, as a doctor or a friend.”
“But if I told the police chief about the baby…” His breathing labored again. “He’d have questioned Matthew. When he died the next week… It was already too late.”
Baby? Lana was pregnant when she died? With her heart pounding, she froze, hoping he’d reveal more. Hoping he wouldn’t. Resuming the soothing noises that comforted him, Gracie straightened his covers and smoothed his limp silver hair from his forehead. But her brain had stalled at the startling announcement.
Dylan didn’t want to believe his father had indulged in a fling with Clayton’s mother. He’d be devastated to discover the affair had lasted for years. Her heart hurt for him just thinking about it.
David continued to mutter and argue with himself until he drifted into another fitful sleep. Gracie considered telling Clay when he came back. Surely it was David’s place to tell him, not hers. If the old man seemed stronger, less distressed later, maybe they could tell Clay together. But that seemed unlikely.
The decision was taken out of her hands by the arrival of Ethel Brady. “Clay sent me to sit with the doctor. He said you’d be reluctant to leave, but he told me where to find David’s heart medication and the sedative, so you can leave him in my hands.”
Gracie remained planted. “He’s been rambling. Talking out of his head.”
The nurse moved around the room with the precision of a drill sergeant. “I’ve sat by bedsides plenty of times. I know when to listen to a patient and when to ignore one. And I also know your grandmother could use some help today. Did you know Chester’s been released from the hospital?” Ethel took Gracie’s arm and escorted her to the door. “You run along now.”
Only in East Langden did anyone still treat Gracie like a ten-year-old. She found herself on the porch outside without having a chance to argue the point further.
Dylan propped his back against Gracie’s door, stretched his legs out in front of him, and waited for her to return. The door was unlocked and he could go inside, but it was a gorgeous day. He had plenty to think about, and after talking to the authorities at the cabin all afternoon, he smelled about as bad as he had after the fire. Better to wait on the landing than invade her apartment without invitation.
He should be long gone. But during a phone conversation where he brought Uncle Arthur up to speed on the details about the cabin, insurance claims, the recovered bones, and local speculation about Lana, he’d realized he didn’t want to leave Gracie or East Langden at all.
Not even to go to the NBA finals. Not even to see his best friends. Or his sister. Or his former girlfriend. He especially didn’t want to see Maya Griffin again.
With his next phone call, he’d told Gilmore to take the tickets and enjoy himself. The Brotherhood told him to enjoy himself, even though they gave him a predictably hard time about ditching them. And then he’d called Maya to cancel their plans. To say the drama queen had thrown a fit was an understatement, but then, it wasn’t his goal in life to fulfill her expectations. Basically, he’d hung up on her while she was still screaming in his ear.
The conversation with his sister still weighed on him. Natalie sounded wistful, fretful, and emotional. He blamed her mood on their mother’s death and her rampant pregnancy hormones.
MacDuff scratched the other side of the door, whining to be let out. Dylan obliged, grabbed the dog’s leash, and led him into the garden. They returned upstairs, and Dylan settled into place again. The dog rested his chin on Dylan’s thigh.
After running in circles all day, he was happy to land at his starting point. Almost like being back home.
The news from the police chief and fire investigators had been worse than expected. They now assumed Dylan had been the target. More in the way of a warning than a murder attempt, since Dylan had been present and no personal attack had been made.
Even so, it had been too close for comfort, and there was no justification for involving Gracie. Except that he couldn’t blame anyone but himself for including her in the first place. Like he could have kept her from getting involved if he’d wanted to. But he hadn’t wanted to exclude her. And here he was about to drag her further into the mess.
He shouldn’t be camped on her doorstep now that reporters had descended on the area. A news chopper had been sighted, swooping over the charred cabin. Several tabloid bloodsuckers had been snooping around, too. Fleming had forced them away from the fire scene. None of the officials had issued more than a cursory statement, but Dylan knew the media would keep at until they tracked him down. He could handle the attention, but he wouldn�
�t make it easy for them. And he didn’t want them bothering Gracie.
His heart kicked up a beat as he spotted her, striding across the lawn from the B&B with her singular combination of unconscious elegance and purpose. Would she be glad to see him? Would he be able to tell if she were?
“You’re still here.” She climbed the stairs, her smile both welcoming but wary.
MacDuff jumped up and wagged his stubby tail to welcome her home. Dylan would have wagged his if he had one.
He stood and opened the door for her. “By the time I got finished with the investigators, it was too late to get to the game.”
Fluttering her lashes, she hid whatever expression they might contain. “So you’re staying the night?”
“If you don’t mind.” He’d appreciate a sign of some sort.
“I guess it’s fine.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Gracie headed toward the bedroom, but Dylan spun her around and into his arms. To hell with waiting for a sign. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“I don’t mind.” She ducked her head.
“Let me see.” He leaned forward for a welcome-home kiss that could become a habit. Her warm response laid his worry to rest, and he sighed with relief. “I guess you really don’t.”
“Told you.”
He clasped his hands behind her back, holding her hips against his. “Where’ve you been? Did your grandfather come home? Did you see Clay?”
“Lots of places, yes and yes.” She pulled away from him. “In fact, I was there when Fleming asked Granddad about the chisel. Remember when he told us yesterday about going to the factory to get some tools the night Lana disappeared?”
“Sure.” Dylan followed Gracie into the kitchen where she grabbed two bottles of water out of the refrigerator. He liked her warm and eager smile as she took a seat at the table, practically glowing in a little patch of sunlight beaming through the window.
“That chisel was one of the tools he went to get that night, and it was missing from his workbench.”
“Is he sure he didn’t lose it before that?” MacDuff trotted over and dropped a ball by Dylan’s feet. He tossed it across the room. “I mean, with all due respect, how does he remember one specific tool after all this time?”
“Most carpenters are obsessive about their equipment. Granddad can tell you how, when, and where he acquired every tool in his workshop. The chisel had belonged to his father and grandfather before him, so he’s not likely to be mistaken about it.” The Scottie brought the ball to her, and she rolled it into the other room. “Did you find out anything about the cuff link?”
He wished she hadn’t asked about that. “I didn’t try.”
“Too busy?”
“Gracie...” He scratched MacDuff’s belly, putting his thoughts in order before answering. “I’m pretty sure it belonged to my dad, but I don’t want to jump to any conclusions.” His mother had given him his father’s jewelry case about a month before her death. He’d noticed then that one of his father’s cuff links was missing. He picked up the ball and tossed it away again while he waited for Gracie’s reaction.
She rotated her bottle on the table, leaving interlocking rings of condensation. “Did your father wear them very often?”
He shrugged. “I don’t really remember. He had them on in a lot of pictures I’ve seen.”
“That’s just what I was thinking about. Pictures.” Gracie hopped up and retrieved the purse she’d hung on a peg inside the door. “Gran and I printed this for you earlier.” She opened an envelope and pulled out the contents. “It’s the photo of your dad with me and Cuddles. Are these the same cuff links?”
Dylan took the photo from her. “Yes!” Relief surged through him. “If this was taken the day he died—”
“It was the week after Lana disappeared,” Gracie finished for him, her face alight with pleasure. “So the cuff link from the cellar can’t be his!”
His relief died quickly as reality nudged it aside. There were still too many ties between his dad and Lana to dismiss them all. “Right, but this doesn’t exonerate him, either. I mean, if he had these on the day he died, why was there only one in his jewelry case?”
“It’s been twenty-five years. The missing one could have been lost in any number of ways. Are you sure it hasn’t slipped under the lining of the case or something? Or maybe someone else took it out, or it got misplaced.”
“I don’t know.” Running his hand through his hair, he tried to think clearly and fit some of the other pieces of the puzzle into place. If the cuff link didn’t belong to his dad, which family member did it belong to?
“Why didn’t you tell Chief Fleming about the missing link?”
“It’s hard enough trying to imagine that Dad fathered an illegitimate child. I could never believe he murdered anyone, and I refuse to let anyone else consider it either.”
Gracie opened her mouth, stopped, and left him waiting on an awkward pause while she chewed on her bottom lip. “David thinks your father was responsible for Lana’s disappearance.”
His back teeth nearly cracked as he gritted them together. “Why does he think that?”
“Hmm, well...” She stalled again. “I didn’t know this until today, and I don’t think Clay knows either, but David let it slip that... That Lana was pregnant at the time of her death.”
“Are you serious?” He whooped with delight as he jumped up, lifted Gracie from her chair, and swung her in a circle “Pregnant! That’s great.”
“Great? Why is it great?” she asked when he lowered her to the floor. “I thought you’d be upset.”
He hugged her tightly. “I still don’t know who Clayton’s father was, but Lana definitely wasn’t pregnant with my father’s baby when she died.”
He smiled and resumed his seat, pulling Gracie into his lap. “My mother had a miscarriage a couple of years after I was born. Her doctor said she shouldn’t have any more children. Dad had a vasectomy before she even came home from the hospital while she was still agreeable to the idea.”
Gracie absorbed this information with a nod and a question. “How do you know this? Weren’t you just a toddler when she had the miscarriage?”
“Yes, but Mother told me and Natalie about it after Josh was born. Mother was crazy about kids, and we asked her why she and Dad didn’t have more children.”
“So if the father of Lana’s unborn child killed her,” Gracie mused, “it couldn’t have been your father.”
“Right.” He smiled and kissed her.
His cabin had burned down. His dad wasn’t off the paternity hook for Clayton yet. Reporters could show up to badger Gracie at any minute. And someone might be trying to kill him. But here in Gracie’s apartment, none of that seemed as hopeless as it should. Dylan had found his happy place. Holding her in his arms, he felt confident they’d discover answers to all their questions before too much longer.
“We’ve gotten off track again,” she said. “We’re trying to discover if he’s Clay’s father, not whether he killed Lana.”
“Sometimes more immediate goals rear their ugly heads. Thank God, we can lay this one to rest.” He stretched his feet out in front of him, cuddled Gracie closer, and contemplated the best news he’d had all day.
Before he got too comfortable, she pulled away. “What’re you going to do now? I’m due at the Festival at six, but Gran and Granddad will be home if you want to stay over there.”
“I’ll go with you.” He checked the time. “Is there anything else we need to talk about now or can I jump in the shower?”
She tapped a finger against her chin, her eyes twinkling. “I wouldn’t recommend jumping in the shower. That can be dangerous.”
His gaze swept over her, and the heat that had been simmering all day bubbled to the surface. “You can come along and hold my hand.”
“Hand, hell,” she objected, undressing on the way. “That’s not what I’ll be holding.”
After a steamy, stimulating, and vigoro
us shower, Gracie left Dylan in the living room engrossed in his laptop. She crossed the yard, letting herself in the back door of Liberty House.
Gran’s voice could be heard from the formal living room, chatting with the first weekend guests. Gracie slipped into her grandparents’ private den. Her grandfather sat propped up on the sofa, whittling and watching the local news.
“What’s up?” she asked, pleased to note that his color looked good. “Have you walked and done your exercises?”
“Ay-uh. Nora marched me around like a drill sergeant.”
“Good for her. I wish I’d seen that.” Gracie crossed to the window and adjusted the blinds to keep the late afternoon sun from glaring across the television. “Clay only let you come home because you promised you’d stick to the rehabilitation schedule.”
“I will,” he grumbled. “Sit down and talk to me. I don’t need anybody else fussing.”
She dropped into Gran’s rocker. “Anything on the news about the festival?”
“A nice piece about the boat race, and they mentioned the ice cream booth and the Political Softball game.”
“With all the publicity and the nice weather, we probably have a success on our hands.”
His eyebrows beetled together. “CNN had a story about the fire at the Bradford place.”
“Shoot, I wonder if Dylan knows reporters have been here.”
“They also mentioned the discovery of Lana’s bod—skel—remains. Hell’s bells, there’s not a good name for what they found, is there? It’s just a sorry waste, that’s what it is. She was a woman with flaws, but she had a good heart.”
She shook her head glumly. “Clay and David were both devastated, and there was nothing I could do to help them.”
“You always help, whether you know it or not, just by being there. You care a lot, and your friends and family know it. Your patients, too, I imagine.”
His compliment made her smile. “I try, but sometimes it doesn’t seem like enough.”
“I don’t hear anyone complaining but you.”
She sighed. “I came to check on you, not for a pep talk.”
