He rang the bell. Thirty seconds later he rang it again. He fingered the envelope, debated whether or not to open it. It was thin. Couldn’t contain more than a single piece of paper. Why would Grace Gar be writing to Ethel Pinkham? Perhaps old skeletons were beginning to rattle, trying to escape the closet. Could a nice old lady like Ethel be blackmailing the Gars? Surely the Gars would have more sense than to succumb to extortion.
Times had changed. Today no one would give a rat’s ass if Ethel’s daughter’s love child had been sired by a Gar. And not even in his wildest fantasies could he imagine Ethel in the role of a blackmailer.
Grace had done a horseshit job of sealing the envelope. One half of the flap was loose. He took his jackknife out of his pocket and slid it under the flap. Piece of cake.
Removing the expensive-looking blue folded notepaper, he read the two terse lines sprawled across the page in a flowery handwriting. I’m warning you for the last time. Leave my family alone.
Interesting. Looked to him like his old school teacher was up to no good. He slipped the note back in the envelope, wet his finger and ran it over the glue to seal the envelope. Then he slipped it back in the door.
He pulled out his phone on his way down the stairs and noticed he had a voice message. First, he got Byron on the phone. “Any luck tracing down Florrie Pinkham’s kid?”
“She had a son. The adoption was private and very hushed. There are no records at the hospital as to where the child was placed. Florrie was discharged. Went home to her aunt’s house without a baby and died in a car crash less than two years later.”
Ace filed away his disappointment. “Any chance of finding a lead? A retired nurse who might remember something?”
“I’m checking. Want my opinion? Someone with a shitload of money covered the trail.”
“Keep in touch,” Ace said and disconnected the call and went into his voice mail. He tightened his grip on the slim phone, listening to Brenna’s message. The thought of her out on the roads alone got his heart pounding. Why hadn’t she cancelled the appointment? ‘
She must be on her way home by now. Should he wait for her at the farm? An insistent voice warned him to go find her. Was it just paranoia rearing its ugly head? Or intuition? He couldn’t shake his fear that something was wrong.
He’d never relax at the farm. He might as well go look for her. Then at least he could follow her home.
The freezing drizzle had stopped and snow fell at a steady clip. Before he reached Route Nine he’d seen two plow trucks and sanders. Traffic was almost nonexistent. An irrational fear hung over his head. Brenna should have been back by now. Where the hell was she?
Chapter Fourteen
Brenna glanced in her rearview mirror and saw flashing blue lights. Her gaze dropped to the speedometer. She was driving well under the speed limit. No one in their right mind would drive too fast on these icy roads. Especially down the hill approaching Dead Man’s Curve. Every few hundred feet there was a sign warning truckers of the steep grade ahead.
She couldn’t pull over. The shoulders were white from the recent heavy, wet snow. If she hit the slush, she’d lose control of the truck. Fear settled in her chest, making it hard to swallow.
She should never have attempted the return trip in this weather. Why hadn’t she spent the night in Bangor? Why hadn’t she listened to Ace and cancelled the appointment?
The cop tailgated her—so close that the blue lights flashed on the road in front of her. She took a deep breath. Something was wrong. She reached across to the passenger seat for her purse, fumbled inside for the cell phone she seldom used and prayed there’d be reception. She couldn’t remember the location of the nearest tower.
The truck lurched forward, knocking her purse to the floor. Before she could comprehend what had happened, she felt another hard bang. Blue lights continued to flash. Some maniac driving a police car wanted to run her off the road. Brenna bit her bottom lip then forced herself to take several calming breaths. Think, damn it.
She could pull off the road as best she could, hope she didn’t slide down the embankment and lock herself in the vehicle. The thought of being in a locked car on a deserted Route Nine in a snowstorm scared her as much as the maniac bumping her from behind.
She was a fast runner. Should she stop, get out and make a run for it? One look at the steep banking in her headlights quashed that idea. Whoever was after her might have a gun and shoot before she ever made it to the woods.
That left one option. She took one last steadying breath and gripped the wheel at ten and two and pressed on the gas pedal. The old truck surged ahead. For a terrifying moment, she lost control. The back-end fishtailed before the truck righted itself and flew down the side of Porcupine Mountain thirty miles per hour too fast for the road conditions. A peek in her sideview mirror assured her that the cruiser had eased back.
A dangerous curve lay ahead. A mile-long curve. One that no one liked even in dry conditions. White crosses dotted the terrain on both sides of the road as a testament to that fact. Dead Man’s Curve. Oh God! She had to slow down. She tapped the brake—knew instantly that something was wrong. Even so, she pushed harder. Her foot went straight to the floor. The truck had no brakes! A hot sweat broke out on her scalp. Her hands trembled on the wheel. Her foot hit the emergency brake pedal. Mush.
The instinct to survive kicked in. She threw in the clutch and downshifted from fourth to third gear. A gear lower than that would send the truck into a spin at the speed she traveled. Third gear slowed her, but not enough. She braced herself to crash as the curve grew tighter. There was no other choice. She curved her hand over the gearshift, yanked it into second and prayed.
Old Blue’s engine screamed in protest, and a burning smell filtered into the cab. She accepted her fate. She’d lost control of the situation. The truck did a complete three-hundred-sixty degree turn on the pavement and careened down the embankment.
The sound of crunching metal deafened her as Old Blue rolled over, coming to rest on the passenger side. Stunned, Brenna sat and listened to the buzzing in her ears. The strong smell of gasoline prompted her to move. Unbuckling her seat belt, she reached to open the door. She had to kick it twice before it opened. She used the steering wheel for leverage and pulled herself out into the cold air. The drop to the snow-covered ground jarred her bruised body. At least nothing seemed broken.
Leaning forward, she rested trembling hands on her thighs. For several seconds she gulped air and listened to her heart beat out a frantic rhythm. Perhaps it palpitated with joy at being alive.
A luminous beam weaved right to left and back again, making its way across the terrain. Searching for her? She dropped to the ground, rolled away from the truck toward the woods, and groaned when her back connected with the trunk of a spruce tree. The bright light continued its side-to-side arc. Friend or foe? She hadn’t heard another vehicle stop.
She shielded her eyes from the blinding light and scrambled to her knees to face the person who wanted her dead. The circle of light lowered to the ground as it moved closer. Brenna rose. If she could make it to the woods, she knew she could outrun whoever held the flashlight. She pivoted. Her legs refused to budge. Muscular arms encircled her from behind and dragged her close to a warm human body. She twisted and kicked back with her feet. She screamed once then plunged down a dark hole.
Ace caught Brenna before she hit the ground and cradled her in the crook of his arm as he knelt in snow. Other than a trickle of blood from a small cut on her forehead, she didn’t appear injured. The tremble in his fingers made it difficult to find a pulse in her neck. Rising above his fear, he willed his heart rate to slow. Yes! There it was. A little fast, but strong and steady.
He fished out his cell. No signal. Freaking great. He had to get her to a hospital. The nearest one was a small community facility in Ellsworth. If need be, they could transport her to Bangor from there. Slipping his free arm behind her knees, he started to rise.
Brenna’s eyes
opened. The hair on his arms bristled in response to the terror mirrored there. Didn’t she recognize him?
She fought like a wild animal caught in a trap. He barely managed to hold onto her. “Brenna! What the hell are you doing? It’s me. Stop it.”
She stilled, her breathing heavy. “Ace?”
Dread trickled through his bloodstream. “Brenna,” he said and hated the urgency he heard in his voice. “Can you see me?” Jesus, please don’t let her be blind.
“Of course, I see you.”
Relief flooded him, making him feel giddy. “What happened? Did you hit a patch of ice and lose control? I was on my way to Bangor to find you. I noticed a car had swerved off the road. I didn’t know it was you until I stopped and saw your blue truck.”
Her gaze locked on his face. “Someone ran me off the road.”
With great care he set her on the ground, keeping his arm around her for support. “Are you sure? Was it an accident? Did the car behind lose control?” Ace shined the flashlight around the area, searching for another vehicle off the road.
“It was no accident. Whoever failed in their attempt on the Desperado is determined to succeed. Who wants to kill me?”
“I don’t know. But we’ll figure it out.”
She pulled out of his arms and turned away, but not before he saw the obstinate tilt of her chin. “I didn’t have a choice. I tried to call you. To ask you to come with me.”
He sighed. “I know. We’ll sort it all out later. Right now I’m taking you to Ellsworth so a doctor can check you out.”
“No! I’m fine. Really,” she said and smiled as if to prove her point. “I want to go home.”
“Brenna, I think—”
“I can always go to the hospital tomorrow—if I feel worse.”
“Come on,” he said, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Can you manage the hike up to the road?”
She took two steps then stopped to look back at her truck. Her voice quivered. “Poor Blue.”
Ace shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re still driving that truck. It belonged in the junkyard twelve years ago.”
She sighed. “Maybe you’re right. The brakes went without warning.”
Ace tensed, his senses on high alert. “The brakes failed?” At her nod, his gaze once more skimmed the area. He strode to the overturned truck. The smell of brake fluid mingled with the scent of gasoline. Holy shit! He searched the undercarriage with the beam his flashlight until he found what he was looking for. A small puncture in the brakeline. Small enough that the fluid would leak slowly.
Whoever had been behind Brenna hadn’t planned to run her off the road. Their intent had been to get her to accelerate so she’d lose control of the truck and her death would look like an accident.
“Someone must have stolen a police cruiser,” she said as they climbed out of the ditch.
“Police cruiser? You’ve lost me.”
“The car behind me had flashing blue lights. A cop wouldn’t run someone off the road. So someone must have stolen a cruiser.”
They reached the SUV. Ace clasped her shoulders, holding her still until she looked at him. “Could you tell for sure if the car was a white sheriff’s car or a blue state police cruiser?”
Her forehead puckered. “Well, no. Just that it was a dark color.”
He opened the passenger door and helped her in. “Anyone can buy blue flashing lights. It’ll be easy enough to check out. I’ll call the State Police barracks as soon as I can get phone reception. They can account for all their cars in the area.”
Before he climbed in, a car could be heard coming from the direction of Bangor. Leary after what Brenna had told him, Ace jumped in, turned on the ignition and pulled as far off the road as possible. He killed the lights. A dark blue sedan rounded the curve and slowed.
The instant the car’s headlights hit Ace’s truck, it sped up and disappeared. There was no license plate. He itched to give chase, but after what happened to Brenna, he realized the idea was foolish. She needed to get home.
“That could have been the car,” Brenna said.
Ace frowned. “You sure?”
“While I was waiting for DHS to open this morning, a car like that, with tinted windows, pulled up next to me. Revved the engine and left.”
“You feeling okay?” he asked and caressed her cheek.
“Tired.”
“Have some coffee. There’s a thermos on the seat beside you.” He started the engine and pulled off the shoulder.
She sipped coffee for several minutes and began to sound more like her old self. “Great coffee. You make it?”
“Dunkin Donuts.”
“Ace? Let’s stay at the cabin tonight.”
“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable at home where you can take a nice hot bath?”
“I just want to be alone with you. Away from my mother. Away from phones. It’s so quiet and peaceful there.”
Ace’s tense muscles relaxed when the SUV reached the end of Deadman’s Curve. In the lower elevation, the salt and sand made the road less dangerous. He chanced a glance at Brenna. “How did it go with the social worker? Did you see Julienne?”
“No, she’s been placed in a foster home. The meeting didn’t go well.”
“Why? What did they say?”
Her hands held onto her coffee mug like it was a lifeline. She stared straight ahead. “I don’t meet the state’s criteria to be an adoptive parent.
He’d been afraid of that. “It’s not the end of the world.”
“Not to you. You’ve got a child.” Her voice hitched. “I so wanted to be Julienne’s mother. She’s the sweetest little girl.”
“I take it no family has been found?”
“Roger’s and Shawna’s parents aren’t interested in raising her. The state’s considering three applicants. They prefer to place her in a two parent home.”
“Is that the only reason they refused? You and I could give Julienne that.”
Her hand curled around his bicep. “You’d do that for me?”
The joy in her voice made Ace feel like the hero he wasn’t. “I behaved like a jerk that day in the barn. She’s a sweetheart. It would be easy to love her.”
“Thank you for that. Unfortunately, that’s not the only reason they wouldn’t consider me.”
“Colin’s death?”
“Yeah. That and the fact my boat was blown out of the water.” Her lips curved into a smile. “Don’t understand why, but they seem to think I lead too dangerous of a life to take care of a small child.”
He chuckled as he switched on the wipers. Fat snowflakes now splattered on the windshield. “We’ll go back and talk to them in a few days. Nothing happens overnight with the State.”
For the next few miles, Ace concentrated on his driving. The snow came fast and furious, mesmerizing him as the flakes hurtled toward his headlights. A plow came at them from the opposite direction.
“Quite a storm for November.”
Brenna laughed. “You’ve been away too long. We usually get one or two bad ones before December. Probably won’t stay. Might melt tomorrow. Doesn’t it snow in Maryland?”
“A few inches here and there. They’d fold up the streets and close down the town for this kind of storm. Plows are rinky-dink compared to these huge monsters.”
“But you like it there?”
Did he? He shrugged, uncertain how to answer her question. “It’s okay. I spend as much free time as I can in Canada.”
“That’s right. I’d forgotten.”
Twenty minutes outside Spruce Harbor, Ace’s cell rang. “Yes?” His grip tightened. He glanced over at Brenna. Her eyes were closed. “Thanks for calling. I’ll handle things on this end.”
He flipped the phone shut and tossed it on the seat beside him.
“Bad news?”
Ace wondered how to tell her. How much more tragedy could one woman handle? “I’m afraid so.”
She straightened in the seat, straining agains
t the seat belt when she turned to face him. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“That was the State Police dispatcher. It’s your mother.”
“What happened?”
Brenna’s eyes grew huge in her white face. Ace took a breath. “She called nine-one-one. Said she couldn’t breathe. An ambulance is on the way to the farm.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Did she have a heart attack? What hospital are they taking her to? We could drive directly there.” Brenna shook her head to stop the ringing in her ears.
“I don’t have details. We’ll be there soon. Probably not much behind the ambulance.”
She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, trying to shut out the horrors of the past few days. She had not a soul to call. Colin and her father rested in the cemetery overlooking the bay. Would her mother be joining them?
Ace accelerated. The SUV swerved on the slippery road. “We’re almost there. Try not to think the worst.”
“If we get there,” she muttered. “Slow down. Once in the ditch is enough excitement for the day.” Ace eased up on the gas pedal.
Her brain finally caught up to her racing pulse. Tragedy was no stranger in her life. The first visit had been the death of her child. Then her father. A few days ago, Colin. Now her mother? How much more pain could she bear? Brenna was afraid she’d reached the end of her tether.
If not for Ace, she wasn’t sure she could go on. Unlike tragedy, self-pity was totally unfamiliar. Yet she’d fallen into a black pit and didn’t have the strength to climb out.
Warmth seeped into her cold hands. She opened her eyes to see Ace’s larger hand covering both of hers. She squeezed his fingers. “Thank you. You’re so good to me.”
He snatched his hand away. “Don’t make me into something I’m not.”
At the harshness in his voice, Brenna sat forward, wincing when the seatbelt dug into her. The hand that had gently touched her moments ago now strangled the steering wheel.
“What’s wrong? What did I say to make you so angry?”
A muscle jerked in his face. He kept his eyes on the road. “I’m not angry. Sorry I snapped. Just don’t make me out to be some kind of Sir Galahad.”
Bed of Lies Page 13
