by Diane Capri
“He’ll kill her, and then he’ll find little Nikki anyway. That’s the way it always works. The past always catches up with you eventually.”
Something in her voice told Gavin that Millie, too, had run from something, or someone. Her eyes had darkened, fixated on some distant memory of things lost forever. A single tear escaped.
“You go stop her. Tell her the truth.” Millie sniffled, brushing away the tear.
“What truth?” Gavin shook his head, but found he was still frantically pulling on socks and shoes. Preparing to do whatever it was Millie wanted him to do.
“Tell her you love her, you darned idiot! Don’t you let her get herself killed.” With that Millie pushed him toward the door.
Gavin grabbed his keys and slammed the door behind him. He stood at the top of the steps wondering if he were crazy or if Millie was. Tell her he loved her? It hit him suddenly that Millie was right. He’d never believed in love at first sight. Written about it, but never personally believed it happened. Something had happened when Nikki placed her hand in his. And he’d known the first time he looked into Sarah’s eyes what he wanted. The loneliness of the past thirty years crashed down on him. Carl had seen it. Millie had seen it. He was an idiot. He wanted her, wanted Nikki, wanted a home. He wanted a life outside of Jacody Ives. The thought of losing her now spurred him into action as he took the steps two at a time.
Gavin heard the slight whoosh, felt the bullet strike. His legs buckled. Hot burning pain flowed over him as he fought to stay conscious. He heard Millie’s screams in the background, her voice carrying through the fog pulling him into the darkness. Too late, McAllister. Too late. Gavin fought the pain, fought the blackness, gritting his teeth. “Not this time, you son-of-a-bitch.”
Millie had reached his side, her hands fluttering over his body, lifting his head. “I called Doc. You just lay still.”
“Nikki?” Gavin gasped between gritted teeth.
“Nikki’s fine. Just a little scared. Don’t you die on me, Gavin McAllister. She’ll never forgive me.”
Gavin forced a pained grin, the darkness beckoning. “Tell Sarah …” A fresh bolt of pain cut off his words.
“You shush, now. Whatever needs to be said to Sarah you can say it yourself.”
Gavin took a deep breath, willing himself to stay conscious. “Have … to protect … Nikki.”
His eyes closed and Millie sat with Gavin’s head in her lap, blood soaking her brand new dress. It didn’t matter, though. Clarence wouldn’t care about a little blood. Millie stroked the thick black hair, her thoughts a thousand miles away—another life. She was tired of being alone. Tired of living a lie. Tired of seeing the people she loved hurt. “Don’t you worry none about Nikki. Anybody wants to hurt that child, they’ll have to come through me first.”
#
“Well, partner, that was the last one. What do we do now?” Carl tossed his cigarette in the ditch, reaching in his pocket for another one.
“I don’t know.” Rob rubbed the short-cropped blonde hair, wishing he had a drink. “Let’s go get a drink.”
“Nope. Told you, no more alcohol.”
“Dammit, Carl, I need a drink.”
“Nope. Just have to beat the shit out of you again. Getting too old for that.”
“All right, then you come up with something!” Rob yelled in frustration and anger.
“We knew it was a long shot, Rob. It’s been five years. Hell, the guy could be anywhere now.”
“Carl, you’re a genius.” Rob took off at a brisk walk.
Carl started after his partner, a slow grin spreading over his face. “Hell, I could have told you that.”
It took only minutes of searching the license records to find the plastic surgeon list from five years ago. Only two had moved out of Washington.
“We’re running out of time. You take Matheson, I’ll take Weaver.” Rob handed Carl the address.
Carl nodded, with a happy smirk. Matheson was in Florida. It might take an extra day to find him. Hell, he might be out on a fishing boat. You could always get a good conversation going on a fishing trip. Whistling, he packed his bags, hailed a taxi, and caught the first flight out. If he found Matheson tonight, he could spend tomorrow morning fishing and still catch an early flight to Richmond. A guilty flush crept up his neck. They were running out of time. All right then, one hour. That’s all he needed. One hour of slinging out a line and watching his cork bob. Was that too much to ask?
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Millie watched as Nikki played quietly, her face solemn. Poor little thing had been scared to death when she saw the blood on Millie’s dress. Took over an hour to calm her down, convince her Mr. McAllister was going to be all right. She’d promised Sarah she’d take Nikki to see the butterfly garden. The child sure needed something to take her mind off blood and death.
Screwing up her courage, Millie peeked through the blinds. There was no sign of Clarence this morning. She knew her abrupt coldness had hurt him. Seen it in his eyes. The twinkle had disappeared, and he suddenly looked old. He’d lost his bluster, unsure of himself. Her fault. All her fault. All he’d wanted to do was care about her, and she’d rejected him.
In a flash, Millie made up her mind. Seize the world and the hell with the consequences. What good was a long life, if you didn’t really live it. “Nikki, honey, help Aunt Millie close up. I’m gonna takeyou to see a butterfly garden.”
Clarence looked up from the vase of roses he’d just put the finishing touches on as the door opened.
“Millicent?”
“Don’t look so surprised, you old coot. Got me a little girl here that wants to see a butterfly garden.”
Clarence grinned, the twinkle back in his eyes. He didn’t know why Millie had pulled away from him, but he knew her well enough to know the gruffness of her voice and softness in her eyes were her way of apologizing. Coming around the counter, he gave them his best exaggerated bow. “Right this way, ladies.”
Taking Nikki’s hand, Clarence led the way through the back doors.
Millie felt as if she’d stepped into another world. The half-acre of ground behind the flower shop had been totally transformed. Huge stones had been placed as a walkway through small trees, flowering bushes, and multi-colored wild flowers that grew randomly throughout the plot. A small pond filled the center of the garden, with picnic benches along both sides.
“Why, Clarence, it’s lovely.” Millie stood awe-struck, breathing in the wonderful fresh smell of blossoming flowers.
Clarence flushed, pleased and embarrassed by her approval.
“How about I give you ladies a tour and a history lesson?”
Clarence noted Nikki’s quietness, but figured Millie would fill him in at the appropriate time.
“This here is Monarch territory. See the milkweed?”
Nikki nodded, still clutching Clarence’s hand tightly.
“What’s a Monarch?” she whispered.
“See that big butterfly over there by the pond?”
Nikki nodded again.
“Well, that’s a Monarch. The Danaus plexippus. You can tell it’s a female by the color of the body. Males are bright orange with black borders and black veins. The females are orange-brown with black borders and blurred black veins.”
Nikki smiled as the butterfly took off, flying over her head to land on the milkweed. A chubby worm crawled up the stalk.
“What’s that?” Nikki removed her hand from Clarence’s and reached out to grab the worm.
“Can’t touch, sweetie.” Clarence caught her hand. “That’s a caterpillar. Pretty soon it’ll enter the pupal stage, and then in about two weeks it becomes a butterfly.”
“What’s a pupal stage?” Nikki asked as she watched the pretty worm crawl to the underside of a small leaf.
Clarence struggled for words that Nikki could understand. “Well, it’s sort of the way a baby develops in a mother’s womb. It’s the final stage as the caterpillar is developing into a b
utterfly.”
“Can we see some more?” Nikki was finally becoming excited, the color coming back into her cheeks.
Clarence grinned at Millie, who followed behind the two. “See that group over there next to the water?”
Nikki nodded, her blue eyes huge as she watched the group of butterflies.
“Those are swallowtails, fritillaries and skippers. They’re doing what we call puddling. They gather around a wet place and sip up the nutrients they need for their diet.”
Clarence was warming to his subject. “See that one over there?” He pointed at a tiger swallowtail. “Well, that one’s doing what we call basking. See how he’s got his wings outstretched there? He’s soaking up the sun. Needs to let his wings warm up before he flies.”
“Do they ever sleep?” Nikki asked, watching as the group around the pool took off, drifting from flower to flower.
“They roost at night. Kind of the way chickens do. They pick out the underside of a leaf or plant and usually spend about fourteen hours each day roosting from sunset until morning.”
“What kind of butterfly is that?” Nikki pointed to the Rose of Sharon bush.
Clarence chuckled. “That’s not a butterfly, honey, that’s a hummingbird. His little wings beat about seventy-five times per second. That’s what makes the humming sound when he flies.”
“Can I go sit by the pond and watch the butterflies?” Nikki looked to Millie for approval.
“Sure you can, honey. Aunt Millie will join you in just a minute.”
Millie waited until Nikki was comfortably seated on the picnic bench before she signaled Clarence to follow her back to the flower shop. She knew curiosity was about to kill the old coot.
“Clarence, I …”
He shushed her. “No need to say anything, Millie. I shouldn’t of rushed you.”
“Clarence, Gavin McAllister was shot this morning. Right in front of me and little Nikki.” Millie gushed the words out, afraid Nikki would come back.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”
They both turned, startled by the sound of the voice so near.
“Why, Reverend Cooper, I didn’t hear you come in. Got your roses all ready for you.” Clarence recovered quickly and headed for the front counter.
Millie glanced out the door, checking on Nikki.
“Is that Nikki out there? I’ll just go say hello.”
Millie stepped in front of the door, barring his way. “Not a good time, Reverend. The child’s had a shock. In case you haven’t heard, Mr. McAllister was shot this morning.”
Millie shivered, watching his black eyes darken as he watched the child play near the pond.
“Perhaps another time, then.”
Millie watched him until he picked up the roses and left the flower shop, waiting anxiously until Clarence rejoined her.
“Something about that man I don’t like,” she muttered.
Clarence followed the direction of her gaze. He didn’t normally prejudge people, but for once he totally agreed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Carl cast the reel, settled in his seat, and breathed in the clear ocean air. A half hour. That’s all he wanted. Nothing wrong with that. He deserved this. Besides, he’d be a much better person after casting his rod and meditating on the beauty of the ocean. Then he’d find Matheson, beat the hell out of the guy, and fly home.
The ringing of his cell phone cut off his happy thoughts. No, dammit. No way.
“Yeah,” he muttered into the phone, realizing he should have left the damn thing in the car.
“Get back here.”
“Shit, Rob, I just got here. Besides, what about Matheson?”
“Forget Matheson. Weaver was our guy.”
Carl forgot his disappointment for a moment. “What’d he tell you?”
“Nothing. Got his brains blown out five years ago, right after moving to Tennessee.”
“So we’re still going in blind.”
“Not totally. Witnesses gave a good description of Weaver’s murderer. Striking resemblance to Williams. Little nose change, hair color. Said he had strange eyes. Black, empty.”
“Sounds like our man.”
“Yeah. Meet me in Richmond. The sooner we get started, the sooner you can get back to your fishing.”
Carl cursed softly at Rob’s low laugh as he closed the cell phone. He looked longingly at the bobbing cork. Now the damn fish decided to bite. A half hour. That’s all he’d asked for. When he caught that son-of-a-bitch, he was going to punch Williams right in the nose. Right in the goddamn nose.
The cell phone rang again, just as he reeled in his line. Asshole. “I’m on my fucking way.”
“Jackson!”
“Chief, I thought you was somebody else.” Carl cursed himself silently for not looking at the caller I.D.
“That’s apparent. Where the hell are you and Walker?”
“Florida, sir. Just catching a few fish.” Carl fidgeted for his cigarettes.
“Get back here. Gavin McAllister’s been shot.”
#
“He’ll be all right. Constitution of a mule. Bullet went straight through. Not a lot of damage. Going to hurt like hell for a couple of days, though. Be best if you could keep him quiet.” Doc Hawthorne patted Sarah on the shoulder as he left the room.
Sarah contemplated her choices. Gavin McAllister could destroy her life. She was sworn to protect and serve. His handsome face was pale against the white sheets, his wavy hair midnight black. Sarah felt strange inside, tender and vulnerable. She reached out to brush a stray curl back from his forehead. The feeling grew, and she knew he was awake, felt his eyes searching her face. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly as she turned away.
“Sarah, I’m sorry.”
“Are you?” Sarah turned just in time to see the flicker of pain in the deep brown eyes. It wasn’t his fault. She knew her past had finally caught up with her. She didn’t know where he was, but she’d felt him. Knew he was close. Closing off her thoughts, Sarah concentrated on the job at hand. She had no choice but to see it as that, just a job.
“Did you see anything? Have any idea who might have done this?”
“No.” Gavin grimaced as he struggled to sit up.
“Anything strange happen, anyone say anything to you in the past few days that maybe made you suspicious?”
Gavin frowned, trying to think back over the past few days. So much had happened since he’d arrived.
“The mayor’s wife called on me. Nice lady. Told me to get out of town. She didn’t say ‘Or else,’ but I had a feeling the or else was there.”
“Did she say why?” Sarah chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip.
“Yeah, she said this town didn’t need my kind.” The memory rekindled his anger, but it quickly died as a bolt of pain moved through his shoulder.
Sarah decided to end the interview. She could question him later. “Can you get dressed? Doc says you have to rest for a few days.”
Gavin nodded, and Sarah left him to fend for himself. She checked in with the office and let Millie know that Gavin was okay. What she was about to do might have repercussions. The attraction between them was too strong. Needs too primal. Could she actually have him that close and not let him break her heart?
“Okay, boss, Doc says I’m ready to go.”
Sarah winced at his grimace of pain as he climbed into the Explorer. She buckled his seat belt and gave him a wan smile, realizing from the moment she’d met him she’d never really had a choice.
“So, where are we heading? You locking me up to keep me safe?”
“No. I’m taking you to my house.”
The words shocked Gavin into silence, and within minutes Sarah realized he’d fallen asleep, his breathing soft and steady. She smiled, that strange feeling of tenderness washing over her. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so hard after all. Sarah regretted her thoughts seconds later as he turned in his sleep, one hand falling to rest comfortably on her thigh.
Desire coursed through her. She gritted her teeth against the sensation as he smiled in his sleep, almost as if he knew her discomfort. Cursing softly, Sarah stepped on the gas. The sooner she got him in bed, the better off she’d be. The total absurdity of her thoughts struck her just as she swung into the driveway.
#
Millie pulled the .38 from the closet. People getting murdered, shot in broad daylight. Dammit, she had to do something. This was her home. Her hands trembled as she loaded the gun. What to do? She was just an old woman. She gazed off into the distance, memories of another life, before Cardona. Before she’d had to disappear. To the eyes of the world she was dead. At first, shut away from her family and friends, she’d wondered if perhaps that wouldn’t have been a blessing. Then she’d come here. Dammit, this was her home now and no faceless monstrosity was going to take it away from her. She’d find him, or them, or whatever. Sarah needed help. This was out of her league.
The light tapping on her door pulled Millie from her memories. Placing the gun in the closet, she raked a hand through the curly gray hair and brushed the tears from her face before going to the door. Clarence stood on the doorstep, hands full of roses. Life had passed her by the past twenty years.
Throwing the door open wide she chuckled, crushing the roses between them as she seized him in a tight embrace. “Oh, Clarence, come in, come in. I’ve got coffee and jam cake, and have I ever got a story to tell you.”
Slightly flustered, Clarence stared at the crushed roses. Jam cake, coffee, story … he looked at her flushed face, gray eyes alight with mystery and life. Taking off his hat, he grinned foolishly at her, like a teenager on his first date. “I’m your man.”
Clarence sat quietly, listening to her. He never interrupted, and asked no questions. Occasionally he would cover her hand with his, squeezing gently, to let her know he understood.
Drained from all the talking Millie waited, breathless. It was a lot to take in all at once. She waited for him to speak, but he just sat there quietly, holding her hand.
“Humph, you could say something, you old coot. Can you live with that?” Her voice was brusque, but Clarence saw the fear reflected in her eyes. Afraid what she had told him would send him packing.
