Brenna’s gaze skimmed the deck, relief making her weak. Was the threat merely a ruse to get her to come here? “If she’s not here, then where is she?”
“I have no idea. I want us to start over. Get to know each other without threats and blackmail.”
The man was insane. “You lure me down here by disguising your voice with some horrible mechanical device, threatening the life of a three-year-old and expect me to jump into your arms?”
“I’m not the one who called you. I tried traditional methods. You wouldn’t talk to me. Wouldn’t see me. So I moved on to plan B.”
Plan B? What the hell was he talking about? The fog horn blasting from the distance created an eeriness that raised goose bumps on her arms. She spun around at a scuffle on the pier. The sight of Ethel’s gnarled fingers digging into Julienne’s shoulders paralyzed her limbs. Her knees wobbled. Were Ethel and Anson working together?
She turned to Anson. “You liar!”
Anson reached a hand towards her. “I didn’t know—”
Julienne twisted away from Ethel’s grip and ran towards the boat, her short, chubby legs pumping like pistons. “Benna, Benna.”
Brenna braced her back against the rail to catch the child as she launched herself onto the boat. Small arms and legs wrapped around Brenna’s waist. Julienne’s tears fell hot and wet on her neck.
How could these people terrorize an innocent child? She turned her fury on Anson. “What do you hope to accomplish by this stunt? You wanted to see me? Fine. I’m here. Let Julienne go.”
Ethel laughed, the sound cutting through the night air. “Don’t blame Anson. I’m the mastermind here.”
Over Julienne’s head, Brenna gaped at the old woman, her eyes connecting with the pump action shotgun she held.
“White lady,” Julienne whimpered.
Brenna gasped. “Ace was right. You’re the one!”
“What are you talking about?” Anson asked, his forehead puckered in a frown. He pivoted to face Ethel. “Grandmother, this wasn’t part of the plan.” He strode across the deck. “You said you’d convince Brenna to come here. Why is the child here? Why are you here?”
Brenna gaped. Grandmother? Bingo. The missing link Ace had been searching for. “Anson is Florrie’s son?”
Ethel cackled. “I managed to keep that secret from the busybodies in this town, even from Ace Bear. Covered my tracks well. John and Grace paid me plenty to keep it quiet. John didn’t want scandal attached to the Gar name by acknowledging a half-brother born on the wrong side of the sheets. There’s not many left in town who knew the truth and as the years passed I think most of them forgot all about it.”
Brenna focused on Anson’s confusion. “Did your grandmother teach you how to blackmail? To lie? Did she coach you when you so eloquently convinced me to marry you?”
“Shut up. I knew all along you’d be trouble.” Ethel pointed the cold, blue metal barrel at Julienne’s back. “Put the brat down.”
All thoughts of defying Ethel’s command vanished at the wildness in her eyes. The woman looked crazy enough to kill without a qualm. Julienne scurried behind Brenna’s legs the moment her feet touched the deck. Ethel climbed aboard with the agility of someone twenty years younger.
Anson zeroed in on his grandmother. “What is Brenna talking about? John Gar’s my brother?”
“Was, Anson,” Brenna interrupted. “Don’t you read the papers? He and his wife were murdered yesterday.”
Ethel’s in-command voice morphed to a whine. “Everything I’ve done, I did for you, Anson.”
Anson stiffened, his hands clenched into fists. “Exactly what have you done, Grandmother?”
Despite fear for herself and Julienne, a twinge of pity for Anson touched Brenna’s heart. It appeared he didn’t have a clue as to the extent of his grandmother’s crimes. “I’ll tell you. Your grandmother framed Colin, right before she poisoned my mother. She also attempted to kill me—on more than one occasion. Not to mention being the prime Downeast drug kingpin.”
Anson attempted a laugh that fell short of the mark. “My God, Brenna. You’re serious. You expect me to believe that this elderly woman planted a bomb on your boat?”
Her life depended on convincing Anson his grandmother was a criminal. “It’s the truth.”
The moon shone enough light through the fog for Brenna to see Anson’s face blanch as white as the mist swirling in the air.
Brenna backed up as Ethel moved to her left side. “You always were the smartest one in your dysfunctional family. Had you figured out that your father and Grace screwed themselves silly whenever John was out of town?”
Brenna wasn’t surprised. Women of all ages had been attracted to Daniel McKenzie. “Is that why you blackmailed him?”
An amused gleam came and went in Ethel’s eyes. “I kept my eyes and ears open when you were pregnant. Knew how much your father hated Ace Bear. I was curious what he’d do to keep you two apart.”
Ethel’s high-pitched giggle bounced across the water. “Snooped around and discovered he’d convinced the doctor and nurse to keep you sedated. Told them you were overcome with guilt for giving the child up for adoption. I give Daniel credit. He was one crafty man. Even paid off some two-bit attorney to prepare official adoption papers.”
Anson seemed to be having difficulty keeping up with the conversation. He shook his head. “I don’t understand,” he said. “You’ve been trying to kill Brenna?”
Ethel ignored him. “I used to go to those damn socials, knowing every woman there hated me. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer. That was my philosophy. I made the pie for you and Ace. I remembered how much you two loved chocolate cream. Didn’t figure on Doris stuffing her face right after her son’s funeral.
A dreamy smile spread across her wrinkled countenance. “As for Colin, he discovered my involvement with the Gars. Knew I delivered drugs and collected money. I couldn’t take a chance he’d squeal. If he hadn’t hanged himself, I would have found a way to silence him.”
Brenna’s head spun. Any remaining doubts regarding the woman’s sanity vanished. A quick glance at Anson’s shocked expression confirmed he agreed. As if in a stupor he listened to his grandmother bragging about every crime she’d committed.
“You’ve certainly been one busy lady,” Brenna encouraged, hoping to keep Ethel talking. Please come, Ace.
“I didn’t plant the heroin that put Colin in jail. Neither did I plant the bomb on the Desperado, cut your brake line or shoot that Indian Ace hired for a watchdog.”
She grew agitated, her finger moving to the shotgun’s trigger. “I should have, though. That goon John hired to do the job turned out to be totally incompetent. Professional, my ass. He screwed up everything he attempted.” Ethel snorted. “Waste of money. I could have done a better job myself.”
Brenna realized she and Julienne didn’t stand a chance of walking off this boat if she couldn’t stall Ethel until Ace arrived. If he arrived. “You did a great job planning this escapade, Ethel. Must have taken a while. “Why did you kill the Gars?”
Ethel’s fingers relaxed and slid backwards, away from the trigger. “Ah, John and Grace. My steady income was coming to an end. After all these years, Grace confided to John she’d had an affair with your father, so I wouldn’t be receiving my monthly stipend from her. John decided to get out of the drug business. I counted on the money he paid me to make deliveries. Nobody cuts me off like that.”
Brenna swallowed hard. Julienne gripped her legs tighter than a hawk clinging to its prey. “Let’s call Ace. Maybe you can cut a deal with the feds.”
Lost in space, Ethel continued as if Brenna hadn’t spoken. “Killing Grace was easy. Stupid fool sat there on the couch quiet as a mouse while I shot her in the forehead. John was a piece of cake. I waited behind the curtain in the living room until he came home. He never knew who ended his miserable life.”
Anson cleared his throat. His mouth worked like a fish out of water before the words fin
ally came out. “I can’t believe this. You killed my half-brother? How could you do that? You told me my father was a vagrant blueberry picker. I had family all this time. Because of you, I never got to know them.”
Ethel scowled. “Grow up, Anson. You’ve always been a needy boy. John Gar never would have accepted you into his prestigious family.”
Anson’s hands shook. “Why would you want to kill Brenna? You know how much she means to me.”
“Who does the bitch think she is? Saying no to you?” The words fired from her mouth faster than bullets from a machine gun. Ethel gestured with the barrel toward Julienne. “The kid needs to be silenced. She saw me give heroin to her parents.”
Ethel glanced up, and Brenna saw a vacant look in her eyes that scared her more than the crazy, wild one. In a monotone, she droned on. “Had no idea the heroin was pure.” She shrugged. “Not sure it would have mattered if I did.”
“Stop it, Ethel.” Brenna breathed in deeply, hating the quaver in her voice. “Your problem is with me, not Julienne. Let her go.”
The old woman laughed again.
The small hairs on Brenna’s arms stood at attention. She shifted her gaze to Anson, her eyes widening in horror when he pulled a handgun from under his jacket.
Ethel moved and Brenna sidestepped as she charged. Unprepared for the woman’s strength, she staggered when the butt of the shotgun connected with her cheek. She stumbled sideways and knocked Julienne to the deck. Brenna grabbed the rail, waiting for the sparkles in front of her eyes to go away.
Brenna saw the brief window of opportunity and grabbed it. “Watch out,” she yelled. “Anson has a gun.”
When Ethel spun around, Brenna lifted Julienne and hoisted her onto the pier. “Run, Julienne!”
Ethel grabbed a handful of Brenna’s hair and snarled, “Why you little…”
Brenna ignored the pain tried not to flinch when Ethel raised her arm.
Anson’s harsh voice stopped Ethel’s arm in mid-air. “Stop it. That’s enough.”
For a moment Brenna thought the old lady would defy her grandson and prepared herself for another blow.
Several tense moments later, Ethel lowered her arm, her gaze resting on the gun Anson held with both hands. “Put the gun away, Anson. You must see that we can’t let this woman live.”
Relief at being spared the physical pain died. God, Ace. Where are you?
Doing his best not to gag at the smell of rotten fish, Ace crouched behind a stack of lobster traps and watched Julienne charge in his direction. As she passed his hiding spot, he reached out and snatched her. Terrified blue eyes peered into his face. She clawed at his hand covering her mouth. “Julienne, you remember me from the cabin. I’m Brenna’s friend.”
The fright left her eyes and her small body relaxed. She nodded.
“I want you to scoot back and hide behind that stack of traps. Stay quiet as a mouse. Can you do that for me?”
Another nod. The moment he released her, she scuttled backward faster than a crab headed for the cover of a rock to escape a seagull.
Where the hell was his backup? He peered over the top of his fortress, wishing he were close enough to hear what was being said on the boat. He’d almost bolted forward when Ethel smashed the gunstock in Brenna’s face. Before he’d moved, Brenna had tossed Julienne onto the pier.
The minute he received the phone call from DHS at ten o’clock, everything fell into place. Brenna’s strange behavior at supper. Wanting to talk to Julienne. Somebody had threatened the child, and she’d gone charging to the rescue. At least she’d left a note.
He tensed when Ethel shouldered her shotgun, the barrel centered on Brenna’s chest. Anson raised what, in the moonlight, looked like a 10mm Glock.
Time to move. Staying within the shadows of the docked boats, Ace crept toward Brenna and her captors. From what he’d seen, Ethel had crossed the line into insanity. Only God knew her next move.
In the face of death, a calmness settled over Brenna like a warm blanket. At any moment, Ethel would squeeze the trigger and end her life. Mistakes made, chances not taken, played through her mind like an old movie.
“Put down the gun, Grandmother.”
Ethel’s eyes stayed on Brenna. “She’s not for you, Anson. Someday, you’ll meet someone worthy of your love.”
“I won’t let you kill her.”
Ethel lowered the gun. “You’re not thinking,” she muttered. “We have to shut her up. She knows everything. I can’t be locked up. Not at my age.”
Anson held out his hand. “Give me the shotgun. You and I will leave now…head to Canada.”
Ethel’s grip on the shotgun tightened. “No. I won’t let you ruin your career.”
“My career is already ruined. Sympathy for Nathan Cutler is running rampant. People are treating him like some damn hero. He shoots me at my own wedding, and I look like the bad guy.”
Brenna’s head swirled, listening to the conversation. Did this man honestly believe he was doing his job when he tossed people out of their homes?
Ethel pumped a shell into the chamber to ready the weapon.
Anson raised the handgun. “Don’t make me shoot you, Grandmother.”
“I know you’d never do that, my dear boy. You and I are two of a kind. Others don’t understand us.”
The red dot in Ace’s scope rested steady on Ethel Pinkham’s right shoulder. Close enough to hop onto the boat, he chose not to. Too many guns. He wouldn’t risk Brenna’s life.
Like ninety percent of Maine’s rural population, his fifth grade teacher was no stranger to guns. Through the night scope he saw her take a deep breath and start to slowly release her breath. A shooter’s way of getting off a good shot. Somewhere along the line, Ethel had learned to shoot like a pro. Releasing his own breath, he squeezed the trigger. Ethel crumpled to the deck.
Ace ran toward the boat, hurtled over the rail onto the deck and placed himself in front of Brenna. “Drop the gun, Anson. Hands in the air.”
Conflicting emotions played across Anson’s face. Surprise, relief, fear. The gun slipped from his fingers and hit the deck with a clunk. He rushed to his grandmother’s side.
Behind him Brenna breathed hard and fast. “You okay?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Yes.”
Ace turned and ran his fingers down the right side of her face. “Man, from the swelling, you’re going to have one hell of a bruise.”
That earned him a smile. “Better than a hole in my chest. Where’s Julienne? Is she okay?”
“Yes. She’s hiding behind some lobster traps.”
“Thanks for saving us, Ace.”
Running footsteps sounded on the pier. A familiar voice yelled, “Freeze. Hands in the air!”
Sgt. Penny hopped onto the deck of the boat. “Damn, Ace Bear,” the man said. “Since you arrived in town, none of the law enforcement has had a day off.”
Ace helped Brenna onto the pier. “Go find Julienne. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
He quickly filled in the police and made arrangements to meet them at the barracks. When he found Brenna, she was on her knees, hugging Julienne.
Blue eyes deep as a quarry held his gaze. “What will happen to Julienne tonight?”
“We’ll call DHS. ‘The foster family is frantic. I talked to them, Brenna. They’re good people.”
She nodded.
Ace wanted to hold her…draw strength from her warmth. He searched her face for a sign she’d forgiven him. That perhaps this latest nightmare had brought her to her senses. Although he found no anger in her expression, he saw nothing to give him hope.
Chapter Twenty-three
The wind threatened to tear off the door. Brenna pulled and hung on as a strong gust nearly ripped it away. “Thank you, God,” she murmured when she at last got it latched. In the past month, winter had arrived with a vengeance.
She fought the temptation to keep her coat on. The old farmhouse had as many drafts as the barn. She stoked up the
woodstove and hoped it would help ward off the cold.
She wiped the already spotless counter and rearranged the counter for the fifth time. The red apples painted on the white canisters were chipped and faded. She should have bought new ones. Stop it. Kayden’s only twelve. She’s not going to freak out over chipped paint on a flour canister.
She grabbed a bottle of Windex and started to clean the windows. The same ones that she’d cleaned an hour ago. She tried deep breathing exercises to loosen the huge knot in her stomach. After a restless night, she’d given up about four o’clock and rose to await Kayden’s arrival.
Her gaze wandered to the clock on the wall over the sink. Eleven-ten. Ace had said sometime between ten and noon. Any moment, they’d turn in the driveway and she’d meet her daughter for the first time. The mere thought threw her into a panic. She was unraveling as fast as a poorly knit sweater.
What if Kayden didn’t like her? What if she didn’t like Kayden? Oh, God. Sweat popped out on her forehead. What was she thinking? They were mother and daughter. Love would come naturally. Wouldn’t it? Right. Just like she and her mother had shared a loving relationship. What a joke.
Brenna was surprised that living alone at the farm hadn’t been as bad as she’d originally thought. She really missed Colin. Despite his faults, they’d been close and had shared many long talks. At least once a week she’d visit his grave and have a chat and hoped he heard her. She still couldn’t bring herself to visit her father and mother. Their manipulations had ruined her life.
She ran upstairs for one last look at the room she’d spent numerous hours redoing. The walls were a pale green, and she’d made new curtains for the windows. Not too feminine, as Ace had said that Kayden was into horses. She’d chosen a print material with horses grazing in a pasture. To offset the curtains she’d decided on a fern green comforter and matching shams for the pillows.
Hours of browsing used bookstores in Bangor had resulted in a bookcase full of novels she hoped would interest a twelve-year-old. As a finishing touch, a large bouquet of daisies sat on the nightstand next to the bed.
Bed of Lies Page 22
