Brenna jumped at the splintering sound of breaking wood. The cabin door swung open. She rolled off the bed to crouch on the floor.
Heavy breathing came from near the table. Ace had extinguished the kerosene lantern, and the cabin’s interior was black in the moonless night. She ducked as a beam of light crisscrossed the room.
“Show your face, Geronimo!”
Brenna flinched at the contempt in Don Mercer’s slurred voice. He’d been Billie’s best friend and had never stopped blaming Ace for his friend’s death. More often drunk than sober, he’d spent a good portion of the last twelve years in and out of jail for various small-time crimes.
Ace wasn’t on the bed next to her. She’d not heard him leave the cabin. No footsteps, no door opening. She hadn’t even felt the mattress shift.
Don stepped closer to the bed. “Geronimo! I know you’re here. Come out and face me you red-skinned bastard.”
Brenna stretched her arm, searching for the shotgun on the floor. She’d seen Ace put it beside the bed. When her fingers curled around the stock, she lifted it, flinching at the scraping noise.
The bright beam of light jerked back toward the bed. The circle of light wavered on the center of the mattress. The man was so drunk, he couldn’t even hold a flashlight steady. Brenna rose. The light flashed in her face. Don took a few steps back and bumped into the table. “Brenna! What are you doin’ up here?”
The strong smell of alcohol drifted through the air. Six long strides brought her within a few feet of him. She held the shotgun under her arm and lit a match to fire up the lantern. “This is my cabin.”
She blew out the match flame and shifted the shotgun, pointing the barrel at Don’s chest. “You just kicked in my freakin’ door.”
A wary crab looking for shelter, Don edged backwards toward the door. “Come on, Brenna. No need to point a gun at me.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Heard Ace Bear had slunk into town.”
“So?”
“He’s not registered in any motel within fifty miles.”
Brenna tapped her foot. “And?”
“I remember you and he used to come here to…to meet.” Don’s face turned cunning in the soft glow of the lantern. “You ran from the church. Ran from Anson to shack up with your Indian lover.”
Brenna looked around the room, put her finger on the trigger and inched closer. “See any lover here, Don?”
Don’s gaze darted around the room. “Where is he?”
Good question. Don could be dangerous when he drank, so she resisted the temptation to slap him in the head. “Get out. Fix the door by tomorrow night.”
Don licked his lips and shifted his weight from foot to foot. Not knowing what he might do next sent a cold chill down her spine. If he turned aggressive, she’d have to shoot him. Wouldn’t that be a great ending to an already horrific day?
“He’s gotta be here,” Don muttered.
She swept the barrel of the shotgun around the perimeter of the room. “You see him anywhere?”
A frown puckered his brow, and he walked to the bed.
“Go ahead,” Brenna insisted. “Have a look.” The Ace she remembered would never hide under a bed. She hoped he hadn’t changed.
Don hunkered down and flashed his light around before pushing to his feet. After he checked the closet, he walked with an unsteady gait to the door.
“Don!” He stopped when she spoke. “Billie died because he fell on his own damn knife. Ace was nowhere near him. Accept it and move on with your life.”
Don did a slow, unsteady turn. “That’s not the way the judge saw it.”
Brenna reeled in confusion. Not the way the judge saw it? What did that mean? She’d never discussed what happened all those years ago with anyone, not even her family. The pain would have been more than she could bear. “What are you talking about? The judge cleared Ace of all charges.”
A shadow moved across the table, and Ace dropped from the rafters, knocking Don to the floor. The flashlight fell from Don’s hand and rolled to Brenna’s feet.
“You’re a sorry excuse for a human being,” Ace clipped. “Stand up.”
Don struggled to his feet and clutched the back of a chair for balance. Stupid asshole had the audacity to grin. “Still sneakin’ around like an Indian.”
“Old habits die hard,” Ace said in a soft voice. “Go home and sober up. And Don? Forget the door. I’ll take care of it.”
“You ain’t seen the last of me, Geronimo,” Don shot back and slipped out the door into the cold night.
They stood in the open doorway, watching until the tail lights of Don’s truck disappeared.
“You’d best watch your back,” Brenna said when he shut the door and propped a chair under the doorknob.
“Don Mercer is the least of my worries. Thought I’d better make my presence known before you shot the sorry bastard.”
Brenna’s laugh came out as a nervous giggle. “How long were you up in the rafters? I didn’t even hear you get out of bed.”
“Yeah, well like Don said…Indians can be sneaky.”
Brenna kneaded her forehead where one hell of a headache had taken up residence. “Guess I’d have to agree with him.”
“Headache?”
“Yeah. Migraines.”
“Since when?”
Since I lost you and our daughter. “They started several years ago. Stress, or so the doctor says. Can’t argue that this day hasn’t been stressful.”
Ace put his finger to his lips and cocked his head. “Hear that?”
Brenna strained her ears. “Only the wind whistling through the blueberries.”
“No. It’s something else. Wait here.”
The urgency in his voice brought goose bumps to her arms. “Ace? What’s the matter? Where are you…”
He moved the chair away from the door and disappeared into the night.
Chapter Four
Ace braced himself against the wind and opened his mind to the darkness. The sleet had ceased. Except for the howling wind and Don’s car bumping across the barrens, all seemed quiet. Yet, he trusted his premonition. Something was wrong.
Then he heard it. A soft mewing. An animal in pain? He turned toward the sound and stilled his breathing. Several moments passed. He heard it again and followed the noise to the cluster of bushes where he’d parked his SUV.
He crept around the cabin and approached the vehicle from behind. He blended with the night shadows and waited for the next whimper. When it came, he pushed away from the bumper, crouched and peered around to the driver’s side.
Forgetting caution, he scrambled to the child who lay still as death on the frozen ground. A little girl was his guess, dressed in a light-colored snowsuit. Couldn’t be more than three years old. She had to be hypothermic or damn close to it. He scooped the small body into his arms and jogged to the cabin. Her tiny fingers held tight to a tattered teddy bear.
Brenna dropped the piece of split oak she’d been about to put in the woodstove when Ace rushed in the door. She hurried to peer at the bundle he held. “Julienne! My God, what happened?”
“Heat some soup,” he barked and carried the toddler to the bed. “You know her?” His nimble fingers made quick work of removing the child’s snowsuit. The child’s hands and feet were cold, but the healthy pink color reassured him they weren’t frozen. He glanced at Brenna, her gaze pinned to the blonde-haired girl while she stirred the soup.
“If she wasn’t wearing warm clothes…” Ace wrapped the waif in a blanket and carried her to a chair near the stove. Big blue eyes stared up at him. He hesitated when Brenna held out her arms. She couldn’t love my daughter, but can love this one? He shrugged and handed her the child.
Ace covertly watched Brenna whisper reassurances while she spoon-fed warm soup to the little girl nestled on her lap.
He ignored the pain digging at his heart. The bliss on Brenna’s face, the joy lighting her eyes to a brilliant
sapphire were not the actions he’d expect from a woman who’d given away her own daughter.
The conversation between her and Don jabbed at him like a nagging toothache. Brenna had admitted the truth of the night Billie Crane died to Don. Yet, she’d refused to come forward to give the same information to the authorities. Something didn’t add up.
The child cuddled closer to Brenna. “Benna?”
Ace frowned. “Who is she?” he asked for the second time.
Brenna hugged the little girl tighter. “Julienne Shay. I babysit for her and her sister sometimes.”
“Babysit? You take care of children, as well as run a lobster business and teach dressage?” Irritation pricked him. Why hadn’t he been told about her three jobs? Someone in the agency had screwed up their research.
Brenna’s chin jutted in a way he remembered as if it were yesterday. “How do you know what I do? There’s nothing wrong with making an honest living.”
“Implying what?” Ace challenged. “That I don’t?”
“How do I know? You haven’t been very open about what your own job is. All I know is that you plan to buy land and build some sort of a complex. Makes me wonder where you’d get money to do something of that magnitude.”
Ace held her defiant gaze until she looked away. Brenna would get no information from him. Not yet. “Any idea why Julienne would be wandering around alone at night?”
“No. It doesn’t make sense.” Brenna shifted Julienne on her lap. “Where’s Mommy and Daddy?”
“White lady,” Julienne whispered, after swallowing a spoonful of soup.
Brenna met Ace’s gaze over Julienne’s head. “That’s about the eighth time she’s said ‘white lady’.”
“It’s a street name for heroin.” Abruptly, he rose and turned his back. “I’ll be outside. Got to make some calls.”
“Ace? I can take Julienne home with me.”
Ten minutes later he snapped his cell shut. The news he’d received from the State Police heated his anger to near boiling. Now he was all the more determined to hunt down the drug dealers. Where the hell did these impoverished people get the money to buy drugs?
Brenna rattled off questions the minute he returned. “What did they say? Are the authorities coming to get her? Can I take her home?”
Ace avoided her eyes. “They’ll be here soon.”
“Stay with Benna. Me stay with Benna,” Julienne cried, her tiny arms wrapped around Brenna’s neck in a death grip.
“Hey, it’s okay, sweetheart,” Brenna whispered. She hid her face in Julienne’s blond curls, but not before Ace saw the tears on her cheeks.
Ace nodded at Julienne, who sucked her thumb, head resting against Brenna’s breasts. The teddy bear still dangled from her left hand. Her eyelids fought to stay open. “How well do you know her parents?”
The look Brenna shot his way reminded Ace of Mrs. Pinkham, his stern fifth grade teacher. “Later.”
Ace poured coffee from the percolator warming on the wood stove. Good and black, just the way he liked it. “Thanks for making this.”
Brenna shrugged. “Gave me something to do while you were outside. Thank God, you heard Julienne’s cries.”
Ace walked to the window and stared into the night. Not that he could see anything, but it gave him an excuse not to watch Brenna fawn over Julienne. The wound Brenna had inflicted—the one he’d thought had healed—began to fester. For twelve years, Kayden had gone without a mother because Brenna didn’t want her own daughter.
He shut down his thoughts and concentrated on why Julienne had been alone in the barrens. There was a warrant out on her parents for selling cocaine, as well as heroin. More than likely selling drugs in exchange for heroin for their personal use. Once they were apprehended, Julienne would probably end up in a foster home. A fate no child should have to face. God damn crazy world.
A whupping noise, along with a bright searchlight flashing outside, signaled the helicopter’s arrival.
Brenna’s arms tightened around Julienne. She smiled. “Hey, Tiger, remember when you told me you wanted to ride in a chopper like the ones on television?”
The solemn look on Julienne’s face sliced through Ace’s gut. No kid should be that serious.
“Do you hear that?” Brenna asked in a stage whisper. There’s one outside right now, and it’s got your name on it.”
“Benna come, too,” Julienne whimpered, her small fingers clutching Brenna’s dark hair.
“Not today, sweetheart,” Brenna soothed, dropping a kiss on top of her head. “I’ll come see you soon. I promise.”
“Mommy and Daddy gone. White lady.”
Paramedics hurried into the cabin. Julienne balked when one of them tried to pick her up.
Brenna handed her to one of the men. “Time to go, sweetheart,” Brenna encouraged. “These nice men will take you for a ride in the chopper.”
Julienne clutched the stuffed bear. “Can teddy come?”
“Of course,” one of the paramedics answered. “Teddies love to ride in helicopters.”
“O…kay,” Julienne answered. Her gaze stayed glued on Brenna until she disappeared out the door.
Just as the helicopter lifted off the barrens, two state troopers walked in.
“Mr. Bear? You called this in?”
“Yes. I found her outside collapsed on the ground by my Cherokee.”
“Unfortunately, her sister didn’t fare so well.”
Brenna rose. “The baby? What’s wrong with Krista? Where is she?”
“We were too late.”
Ace stoically observed Brenna as she slumped back in her chair. “Too late?”
“Looks like she died of exposure, ma’am.”
“I don’t understand. Why were these children alone in the barrens?”
The trooper turned to Ace. “We found the Shay’s car pulled off the road about one half a mile from here. From all the paraphernalia on the front seat, it appears they’d been shooting heroin for at least a couple of days. Won’t know for sure until the autopsy, but preliminary findings suggest they died of an overdose. The older child climbed out of a window and wandered off. Lucky she ended up here. The baby just went to sleep.”
“What will happen to Julienne?” Brenna whispered.
“She’ll be taken to Bangor.” He shrugged. “After she’s checked out at the hospital, she’ll be released to the Department of Human Services. Do you know if there’s family we can contact?”
“Not that I’m aware of. At least not in the immediate area.”
Both troopers shifted restlessly, their gazes wandering around the small room.
“Thanks for getting here so promptly.” Ace walked with them as they started to leave. “Call me immediately with any news.”
“I need to go home,” Brenna blurted before he even had the door closed.
He pivoted to face her. “Now? I thought you wanted to wait until morning.”
“I’ve got to go to Julienne. She’ll be frightened. I’m not even sure where Shawna and Roger came from. They just drifted into town one day.”
Yeah. Like a lot of drug users and pushers seem to do. Ace curled his hand around Brenna’s bicep. “There’s nothing to be done tonight.”
She yanked her arm away. “Either you drive me, or I walk.”
Ace took a steadying, deep breath. A higher being had chosen to test his patience tonight. If Brenna wanted to put on the mother act for his benefit, then who was he to deny her? His gaze wandered down her body. She still wore his shirt over the bustier. “You going dressed like that?”
She glanced down at herself and gave him a sheepish look. “No wonder the troopers wouldn’t look at me. I’ve got some old clothes in the closet. I’ll be ready in a minute.”
“Fine. I’ll wait outside.” Ace beat it out of the small room. He’d seen enough of Brenna’s body tonight to keep him warm for the rest of the winter.
Brenna steadied her trembling hands and rummaged through the cedar closet, searchi
ng for jeans and a pair of shoes. What would happen to Julienne? Perhaps Shawna and Roger had family out-of-state who’d want to take her. She hoped not. Selfish or not, she wanted to be Julienne’s mother. Would the State consider her qualified to adopt the child?
She pushed her feet into an old pair of sneakers and loosely tied the laces. The gauze wrapped around her feet served well as a pair of socks.
She turned down the damper on the woodstove. No sense taking a chance on burning down the cabin. If Anson followed through on his threat to foreclose on the farm, she might be living in this one room with her mother and brother. That would for sure put an end to her adoption plans.
Next, she raised the pump handle to keep it primed. In a few more weeks, the line from the well would freeze and all water would have to be carried in. She cast one last look around the room, her gaze settling on the rumpled bed.
She strode over and straightened the covers to erase all signs that she and Ace had so recently laid side-by-side. She hid the shotgun under the mattress.
Outside, a horn honked. Ace, impatient? Didn’t quite fit with his new, stoic image. With a sense of foreboding, Brenna blew out the kerosene lantern and left the cabin. She pushed the outside door shut and secured the rope tied around the doorknob to a nail on the side wall. Hopefully, Ace wouldn’t forget to fix the door tomorrow.
“Took you long enough,” Ace mumbled as she slid into the passenger side.
“Stop whining. I had to make sure the place wouldn’t burn down. You’re welcome to stay here while you’re in town.” Now why had she said that?
A grunt was his only response.
They bounced across the rutted roads in uncomfortable silence. “What do you do for a living, Ace?”
His mouth quirked. “Ended up getting a decent job—no thanks to you.”
There it was again. Another snide remark implying she’d wronged him. “Look. I don’t have a freakin’ clue what you think I did to hurt you, but let’s get it out in the open. Your rudeness and better-than-thou attitude is starting to annoy me.”
The way his grip tightened on the steering wheel, she had no doubt he wished it were her neck. A muscle twitched in his cheek.
Bed of Lies Page 3
