by B. J Daniels
Kate shook her head. “I love your attitude. You’ve been through so much.”
“So have you, and look how it’s turned out,” Callie said, smiling. “I heard you went to see the doctor.”
Kate broke into a huge grin, but quickly tempered it. “It’s still early, and I hate to get my hopes up again, but—”
“You’re pregnant. I’m so happy for you.” Callie took her friend’s hand. “I never told you, but I used to have this...ability. I could see other people’s lives, even some of their futures. I lost that ability when I was shot, and I’m not sorry it’s gone.”
Kate stared at her wide-eyed. “Are you going to tell me you were a fortune-teller?” she asked with a laugh.
Callie explained the flashes she’d gotten since she was five.
“That’s how you knew about the murders?” Kate asked when she’d finished.
Callie nodded. “Laura McCormick drew me to the murders—just as she had the first one. A part of her must have wanted me to stop her.” Callie shook off the memory of how close she’d come to being killed. How close Rourke had.
“But I’m glad I saw your future, Kate, before I lost that ability. You are going to have a healthy baby...” She stopped. “Do you want to know the sex?”
“Are you serious?” There were tears in Kate’s eyes. “Tell me.”
Callie felt her own tears. “You’re going to have a beautiful baby girl.”
Kate began to cry as she pulled Callie into another hug. But as the hug ended and Kate spotted the suitcases, she said, “Don’t tell me you’re leaving.”
“I’ve never been able to stay in one place long,” Callie said, unable to admit even to herself how much this was tearing her up inside.
“No, I can’t bear losing you as a friend,” Kate said. “I need you more than ever to help me through this pregnancy.”
“You are going to breeze through it. All systems go. Don’t worry.”
“I won’t worry if you’re here.”
“I can help you find a new waitress—”
“It isn’t a new waitress I need. I’ve never felt as close to anyone as I have you, and trust me, I used to move a lot myself, and so I’ve never had a close friend. Please, stay.”
Callie looked to the mountains out the apartment window. The Crazies glistened white against the deep blue sky. She had loved it here, had felt at home for the first time in her life. But after falling in love with Rourke...
“I’ll come back when the baby is born,” she promised. “I wouldn’t miss that for the world.”
“You’re just trying to get me to name her after you, aren’t you?” Kate joked. “Seriously, I understand if you have to leave for a little while. I could tell how you felt about...that cowboy. But, please, come back. Soon.”
* * *
ROURKE CAUGHT CALLIE loading her suitcases into her pickup. “You left the hospital without saying goodbye.”
Callie leaned against her truck. She was still pale, but not as much as she’d been that first morning at the hospital. He’d been so afraid for her.
“You were going to leave without saying goodbye?” he asked.
“I hate goodbyes.”
He could feel the warm October sun on his back. All the snow had melted off, but it would be back. Winter had taken hold of the peaks in the Crazies, blanketing them in a cover of white that would stay until spring.
“Don’t we even get to talk about this?”
“What is there to say? You’re a U.S. marshal who solved his case. I’m a waitress who can’t stay in one place. That kind of sizes it up.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Rourke, you were just doing your job.”
“It was more than that, and you know it. What are you so afraid of, Callie?”
“I’ve pretty much faced all my fears, wouldn’t you say?” She shook her head. “Laura said a lot of things, but there is at least one that I believe. You live to catch bad guys. I could have been the killer, and yet look at the lengths you went to, trying to get close to me.”
“I got too involved. I lost sight of everything except for one thing. I wanted you.”
She looked away. “You and Laura. Were you ever...?”
“We were never more than homicide partners and friends.”
Callie’s gaze came back to his. “She was in love with you.”
“I didn’t...know.”
He could see that she didn’t believe that. “How could you not?”
It was a question he’d asked himself for days. How could he not have realized a lot of things? He’d been so busy building his career that he hadn’t paid any attention to the woman he’d once trusted with his life.
“Callie, you have to know how I feel about you.”
“Please don’t, Rourke. I’m not sure anymore what is real and what isn’t. All of it feels like a lie. I don’t know who you are, and you sure as the devil don’t know me.”
“I was the one I was lying to. I told myself I was doing what I did because you were a suspect and I needed to get to the truth. But the truth is...I fell for you.”
“True or not, after we made love, you weren’t sure you hadn’t just slept with a serial killer.”
Any man in his right mind would have had his doubts when he woke up to that empty bed that night. But if he had been doing his job like he should have, he wouldn’t have climbed into that bed to begin with. “I’m sorry. I wish I could start all over with you, no secrets between us.”
She said nothing, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
“I have to take care of some things,” he said, hating that he had to leave and yet seeing that staying probably wasn’t the answer either, since Callie was cutting out of Beartooth herself. “I have to go back to Seattle for a while.”
“Your life is in Seattle.”
It certainly didn’t feel that way. Leaving here, leaving Callie, was the last thing he wanted to do. “What about you?” he asked. “What will you do?”
She shook her head.
“You’re free of the past. Free of Westfield.”
“Am I?”
He hesitated, fearing he might make things worse between them if he tried to convince her right now how much he loved her. “I have something for you. It’s actually from the private investigator I hired. Before his death, he found your grandparents. It was in his notebook that the police found in Laura’s possession. I thought...” He pulled the envelope from his jacket pocket and held it out to her.
She stared at it but didn’t take it.
“My mother’s family? The one who banished her because she was pregnant?”
“Their names and address are here, but also your grandparents on your father’s side of the family. Apparently, both sets of family members have been looking for you and your mother for years.”
He saw her swallow and, as if bracing herself, take the envelope. But she didn’t open it. In fact, he wasn’t sure she ever would.
“If you don’t want to meet them alone...” He knew better than to say more.
She folded the envelope and stuffed it into the back pocket of her jeans before she met his gaze. “Goodbye, Rourke.”
* * *
ROURKE’S MEETING WITH his boss at the U.S. Marshals’ office went pretty much as he’d thought it would. He still had a job.
But if he wanted to keep his job, he had to stop playing cowboy. He actually laughed, because he’d realized that was really all he’d ever been: a cowboy, born and raised.
As he turned in his badge and his gun and walked away, he’d never felt freer. He’d chased a career for so many years, believing he could make the job fit him and his free spirit.
“What will you do now?” It was Laura�
�s voice in his head as he left the U.S. Marshals’ office. She would have never understood how he could give it up after working so hard to get where he was.
“What will I do? Whatever I want,” he said aloud as he climbed behind the wheel of his pickup. “Whatever I want.”
When the Realtor in Big Timber, Montana, called to tell him she had another ranch listing he might be interested in, he smiled at the timing.
“Give me a couple of days,” he told her.
It surprised him how little it took to pack up everything he owned, load it into the back of his SUV and walk away from the big city where he’d lived.
He was looking forward to the road trip to Montana. He had a lot to think about. He’d succeeded, and yet he’d failed the people closest to him. Maybe if he had been paying more attention...
He knew he had to put the past behind him. He’d seen what it had done to Laura. Callie had survived her past and been freed at least from the murder part of it. Where was she now, though? Still running?
Rourke thought about trying to find her. It made him think of the story Sheriff Frank Curry had told about the crows. They’d been hurt, one of them killed, but eventually, they had come back home to a place where in their hearts they’d known they would be safe and loved.
He had to believe that Callie would come back one day. She loved Montana. He thought, even with everything that had happened, maybe she had a special place in her heart for Beartooth. Maybe even a little piece of her heart for him.
There was only one more thing he had to do before he could move on. He had to see Laura. Her injuries had been minor, a slight concussion and a broken arm. After her arrest, she’d been sent to the state hospital for evaluation, then allowed to return to a hospital closer to her doctor in Seattle.
He’d been relieved when her psychiatrist called to say that he could see her. Apparently, she’d been asking for him, saying he was the only “family” she had left.
The visit took place in a small room with the doctor present.
“How are you doing?” Rourke asked as he took the chair the doctor offered him across from Laura. She had a bandage on her head, and her arm was in a cast from being broken when Callie had hit her with the pipe. Other than that, she looked fine.
The blond wig was gone. Her naturally dark hair hung around her shoulders. She really was a very attractive woman, not to mention smart and capable. It was hard for him not to see the woman he’d thought he’d known for years.
“I’m doing great, all things considered,” she said, smiling. Her blue eyes were bright. She looked at him with humor in her expression, as if he was the only one who wasn’t getting the joke being played on him.
No wonder he hadn’t seen the other Laura, he told himself. “Do you know what happened?”
She laughed. “Seriously? I got hit in the head, but not that hard. Rourke, I need you to find Catherine for me. They actually think I killed those men.”
Rourke’s heart broke for her. Laura had been his homicide partner. He’d trusted her with his life. How could he have not seen the Catherine side of her?
Because she’d seemed so normal, like she did now—and because he hadn’t looked closely. He’d been too busy catching bad guys.
Laura met his gaze, hers steady and blue and pleading. “Rourke, you have to believe me. I didn’t know Catherine was committing the murders. I didn’t even remember Westfield. Rourke, I honestly believed the killer was Caligrace. She fit the profile.”
He didn’t know what to say.
She took his silence for agreement. “I have some ideas where you might be able to find Catherine,” Laura continued, sounding like the cop she used to be. He thought about the night she’d been shot, when he’d held her hand while they’d waited for the ambulance. He recalled her words. They gave him a chill now.
Her mother’s body had been exhumed and an autopsy had been performed. Gladys McCormick had died from suffocation—not the cancer that had been slowly killing her.
As if he needed more convincing as to what Laura was capable of doing. She was a cold-blooded killer and had been since the age of twelve. He hated to think how many men she’d murdered, but someone else was chasing those cases now.
“Catherine usually shows up this time of the year, but I can’t depend on that happening now,” she was saying. “That’s why I need your help. Once you bring Catherine in— Rourke, are you listening to me?”
He nodded, thinking of her with that knife in her hand, her eyes wild with blood thirst.
She scoffed and looked to the doctor. “You see what the problem is?” she demanded of the doctor. “No one will help me find my sister. She killed those men. Catherine said she did it for me, but she enjoyed it.” She looked from the doctor to Rourke and back again, getting more agitated. “You have to believe me. She’s the one who is sick. Once Catherine is locked up—”
“Laura, your sister, Catherine, is dead. She died when she was twelve from a fall down the stairs,” the doctor said, not unkindly.
She stared at him. “No, that’s a lie.”
“You pushed her down the stairs at Westfield. The fall broke her neck.”
Laura was shaking her head, clearly agitated now. “No, Catherine—”
“Don’t you remember helping your mother bury her? You buried her in the field beyond the cemetery, away from the others. Your mother bought a ceramic angel and put it on her grave.”
“You can’t believe anything my mother tells you.”
“You told me yourself just yesterday,” the doctor said. “Don’t you remember?”
She picked at invisible lint on her mental-institution jumpsuit and began to cry.
Rourke couldn’t bear to see her like this. He started to rise to his feet, needing to get out of this room before he broke down.
Suddenly Laura looked up. At first he thought she was looking at him. But her gaze seemed blank, as if she was seeing something else entirely. When she spoke, she sounded like a little girl.
“No, Mother, I can’t. Please.”
The voice changed again, becoming harsh and grating. “You did this, Laura. You did this terrible thing. You have no choice. You must pretend sometimes to be Catherine.”
She drew back, cringing. “You’re hurting me.”
“You have to be both Catherine and Laura, do you hear me? If you don’t, they will find out what you’ve done. They will take you away and put you in prison or in some mental hospital where they will do horrible things to you like they did to your grandmother.”
“I can’t be Catherine, please, Mother.”
“You will be or the sheriff will come for you. Now stop crying and show me how you can be Catherine.”
A change came over Laura. She sat up, her expression suddenly cold and calculating. She turned slowly to look at the doctor.
“Hello, Catherine,” he said and motioned that it was all right for Rourke to leave. “We need to talk about your sister, Laura.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“DO YOU HEAR THAT?” Sheriff Frank Curry asked from out on the lanai.
Nettie joined him to look out at the ocean. There was nothing but turquoise water as far as the eye could see. Waves rolled up onto the white sandy beach in a soothing roar as the trade winds rustled the nearby palm fronds.
“I hear it,” she said as her husband put an arm around her and pulled her close.
“Have I told you yet today how much I love you?”
Nettie laughed. “Only a half dozen times. I think this tropical air is good for you.”
“We made it, Lynette. We finally did it.” Frank looked down at her, his blue eyes bright. “Did you ever think it would really happen, Mrs. Curry?”
“I never doubted it,” she said as she snuggled closer.
He laughed. “I s
uppose we should go down and get one of those umbrella drinks on the beach.”
“I suppose. Or we could stay right here and watch the sunset from that king-size bed over there.”
Frank chuckled softly as he leaned down to kiss her. “I signed you up for hula lessons tomorrow while I try my hand at surfing.”
“You did not!”
He laughed as he drew her back into their room. Outside, the waves washed to the shore while the wind whispered secrets in the palms. Inside, Frank swept his wife up in his arms and carried her back to bed.
EPILOGUE
HAWAII HAD BEEN a dream come true. Nettie felt as if she was floating on a cloud for the months since they’d been home. She couldn’t help smiling whenever she thought about that week on the beach with Frank.
But she was glad to be back home. Frank had told her he would build her a house, but she’d insisted she would be just fine in his old farmhouse. It needed a good cleaning, and she would put her mark on it as the new lady of the house, though.
She was working a few days a week at the store now, helping to get it stocked. She’d been afraid she would be sorry the store wasn’t hers. Instead, she felt relieved when she left each day.
As she was almost finished putting away some of her favorite things in the farmhouse kitchen, Nettie pulled out the junk drawer and froze at the sight of the unopened manila envelope as she saw the return address. The state DNA lab.
For a moment, she couldn’t remember what she’d been looking for. The old Nettie Benton would have snatched up that envelope in a heartbeat, steamed it open and read it without even a twinge of guilt.
But after almost being killed, she’d tried to change her snooping, gossipy ways. She’d tried even harder now that she was married to Frank. Still...
She picked up the envelope and turned it in her fingers. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know what was inside. The state had run a paternity test on Tiffany after she’d been arrested to see if she really was the daughter of Pam and Frank Curry.
Frank, being Frank, had never opened it. “She’s my daughter.” He’d taken responsibility for Tiffany because Tiffany believed he was her father. She’d been raised to hate him. Worse, raised to try to kill him. Pam had poisoned that poor child against Frank, then walked away.
