“I told him that, but Frank thought 911 would get him the county sheriff instead of you or Simon. He tried Simon first, but the boy’s not home tonight. Are you going to go investigate or not?” she asked impatiently.
“I’m going, I’m going,” Jack said, striding to the bedroom to get his gear.
“You want me to call Simon’s cell phone? He mentioned going to Greenville tonight. It’ll take him an hour to get back here.”
“No, I’ll handle this,” Jack told her. “Go back to sleep, and tomorrow we’ll figure out how to get word to everyone to call 911 so this doesn’t happen again. See you in the morning.” He strapped on his gun belt as he strode back into the kitchen, then quickly laced up his boots and grabbed his jacket on the way out the door.
This was his chance to catch the little bastards red-handed!
Jack spun out of his driveway and headed to town, nearly colliding with Megan’s sister as she came speeding up the camp road. He spun into a snowbank to avoid her car, then backed out of it, snapped on his lights and siren, and raced toward town with a feral smile. If her look of horror was any indication, Camry MacKeage would think better of it the next time she felt the urge to throw a pie in his face.
Turning onto the main road, Jack quickly brought his attention back to his mission. He sure hoped he didn’t have to shoot his gun tonight. It might be hard to convince the state police that even though he had three beers in his system, he was stone cold sober and quite capable of confronting Pine Creek’s criminal element.
Camry stormed into Megan’s house. “That maniac nearly ran into me! He went tearing out the camp road like a charging bull moose.”
“And you were just crawling in, I suppose?”
“He didn’t even have his siren or strobes on.” She snorted. “He turned them on after he nearly smashed into me.” She sat down on the ottoman, sliding Megan’s feet over to make room. “So out with it, sis. What did you say that sent him tearing into the night like that?”
“I have no idea why he tore out of here, since he left my house over two hours ago. He must have gotten a police call.” Megan dropped her feet to the floor and sat up. “Maybe those brats are at it again. Last night they took the F off Farley’s store across the street and nailed it on Winter’s sign, so that it read Pine Creek Fart Gallery.”
“At least they have an imagination,” Cam said with a laugh, unbuttoning her coat. “Which makes me think the bakery break-in was somebody else. The kids have been sticking to harmless pranks.”
Megan stood up with a yawn. “Or they really like day-old doughnuts. I’m going to bed.”
“Wait, you didn’t tell me how tonight went.”
“He claims Jack Stone is his real name, and that he hunts down runaway kids.”
“He’s not a biologist?”
Megan shook her head.
“Then that must be what the Internet ad was for. He hires out to parents looking for their children.” Camry brightened. “That’s a noble profession.”
Megan rolled her eyes. “It’s a lie, Cam.”
“It is?”
“Of course it is. He claims he was working undercover to get close to one of the students so he could talk him into returning home to his parents. He said Billy had run away when he was sixteen, four years ago.”
“Then how was the kid paying for school?”
“Some cult he belonged to was footing the bill.” At Camry’s look of confusion, Megan tossed her hands up. “See what I mean? Wayne made it all up.”
“But why? If he doesn’t hunt runaways, then why was he in Canada on your study?”
“Who knows and who cares? I showed him the door the moment I realized what he was doing.”
“So what was he doing?” Cam asked. “Did he tell you why he’s here?”
Megan flushed. “I didn’t give him the chance,” she admitted. “I kicked him out before dinner was over.”
Camry gaped at her. “But that was the whole point of this evening! He was supposed to beg you to take him back, and you were supposed to throw his offer in his face. Come on,” she said, grabbing Megan’s hand and walking to the door.
Megan took the coat she shoved at her. “Where are we going?”
“To town. Let’s go see what your boyfriend is doing.”
“Are you nuts?” Megan said, hanging her coat back on the peg. “Jack Stone is not my boyfriend, and we are not chasing after him.”
“Okay,” Cam said, handing her back her coat. “Then we’ll go check on Winter’s shop, just to make sure nobody broke into it.”
“You need to go back to work, Cam,” Megan muttered as her sister led her outside. “Before I strangle you.”
“Oh, come on, loosen up,” Camry said as she opened the driver’s door. “When was the last time we snuck out of the house on an adventure together?”
“It’s not sneaking out if I own the house.” Megan climbed in the passenger seat and fastened her seat belt. “And spying on an ex-boyfriend is not an adventure. What if we mess up his police work?”
“We’ll park on the edge of town and sneak down to Winter’s fart gallery on foot. We’ll watch from inside, out of the way.”
“Winter will strangle you if she ever hears you refer to her shop as the fart gallery. She was not amused by that prank.”
Camry started the car and headed toward town. “So what are you going to do if Jack stays on as our police chief?” she asked. “You are carrying his child.”
“If he stays, and if he wants to be part of my baby’s life, then we’ll come up with some sort of arrangement.”
“He’ll want visitation rights, Meg. Are you willing to let him take your baby for the day?”
Megan looked down at her belly. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get there, if it comes to that. But once he realizes it’s over between us, he’ll give up and leave.”
Camry reached over and patted Megan’s knee. “And if he doesn’t, we’ll just have Winter turn him into a toad.”
Being careful not to let his feet crunch on the snow, Jack crept along the edge of the buildings on the lake side of Main Street, using the shadows to conceal his progress. He slowly made his way toward the bakery at the end of the street, his ears tuned to sounds of activity and his eyes alert for movement. He was just passing Dolan’s Outfitter Store when a muffled crash came from inside.
He pressed against the side of the building, his eyes locked on the slightly ajar door as he pulled his billy club from his belt. Another crash sounded, followed by an angry growl of surprise, then an even louder crash, as if a shelf of heavy pots and pans had been cleaned off in one swipe.
Dammit, the little bastards were trashing the place.
Jack scanned the lakefront park to make sure no one else was lurking about, then quietly walked up the steps and used his billy club to push open the broken door—only to rear back from the stench.
Their stinky doughnut thief was at it again.
Another violent crash came from inside, sounding as if an entire shelving unit fell over. Jack froze with his foot on the threshold when a deep, wounded scream unlike anything he’d ever heard before reverberated off the interior walls. The entire building began to shake as whatever had made that sound started toward him at a run.
Jack turned to scramble down the steps just as it burst through the door. Realizing he was about to be trampled, he dived to the side and rolled out of the way. He immediately started to rise, but froze when a huge, dark, screaming shadow went tearing past him toward the lake.
What the hell?
Jack jumped up to get a better look but was suddenly grabbed from behind by a large arm of solid muscle wrapping around his throat. He lashed back with his billy club, making his attacker grunt and the arm around his neck tighten. He reared up to butt the guy in the head, but the man simply fell backward to the ground, pulling Jack with him. Powerful legs wrapped around his thighs, effectively keeping him still long enough for his attacker to squeeze the breath right out
of him.
As the world went black, Jack’s last thought was that little bastards was a misnomer—because the apparition flying out over the lake had to be seven feet tall, and the guy choking him to death weighed at least two hundred pounds.
Jack woke to whispered conversation but didn’t open his eyes when he realized he not only knew one of the speakers, but that he was equally familiar with the lap his head was resting on—though it was a little rounder than the last time he’d been in this position. Since he no longer seemed to be in imminent danger, he decided to play possum and learn what in hell all these people were doing at the scene of his crime. Besides, the concern in Megan’s voice gave him hope.
“I don’t know why you insisted we bring him to the gallery, Robbie. We need to take him to Aunt Libby, so she can check him over,” Megan whispered urgently, feeling Jack’s head for lumps. “He should be awake by now. He might have a concussion.”
“He’s only had the wind knocked out of him,” said a rich-timbered voice that Jack recognized as Robbie MacBain’s. “He’ll come around soon.”
A feminine snort sounded nearby. “He really is a nerd, isn’t he?” a familiar voice said far too cheerily. “He didn’t put up much of a fight when that guy attacked him, and now I see what you mean about his size, Meg. Robbie tossed him over his shoulder like a sack of grain.”
So the pie-hurling sister was here, too. Wonderful.
Megan gently patted his face. “Come on, Wayne, wake up,” she petitioned, patting a bit harder.
“Wayne?” Robbie repeated, his tone suspicious.
“Wayne Ferris,” Camry chirped, again much too cheerily. “The bastard who broke Megan’s heart. Only now he’s calling himself Jack Stone and pretending to be our chief of police.”
Megan clutched him protectively against her. By God, she did still love him. Jack slit open his eyes and saw MacBain looking at Megan, obviously not pleased.
“Jack Stone is Wayne Ferris? Your biologist from Canada?” the towering Scot asked.
“Sort of,” Megan said. “But he’s not a biologist, and he’s not mine anymore.”
Camry snorted again. “You’re acting like he’s still yours.”
Damn skippy, he was hers. And the protruding belly he was nestled against proved it.
“So who the hell is he?” Robbie asked impatiently.
“He told me his real name is Jack Stone, that he hunts down runaway kids, and that he was posing as a biologist because he was after one of the students on the study,” Megan explained.
“But Meg decided that’s probably a lie,” Camry added. “And I’m beginning to agree with her. He’s not a very competent hunter, is he? He can’t even catch a bunch of brats.”
Not liking the direction the conversation was taking, Jack was about to fake a miraculous recovery when MacBain said, “That was no kid who brought him down. The man was my size.”
“Did you recognize him?” Megan asked, her hand lightly rubbing Jack’s chest, making him feel warm and fuzzy and a little bit dizzy.
“No, he ran into the woods when I shouted. Who else knows that Stone is Wayne Ferris?”
“Just Cam and Winter, and now you.”
“You haven’t told Greylen?”
Megan cuddled Jack closer. “I’m afraid of what Daddy might do.”
“The bastard deserves a good beating,” Robbie growled.
Camry laughed. “It seems the townsfolk are doing that for us. The man’s a mess. What happened to his hand?”
Again, Jack was just about to groan and open his eyes when MacBain said, “Maybe you should ask him. He’s been awake for the last ten minutes.”
Jack’s head hit the floor with a thud when Megan suddenly scrambled out from under him. He sat up, rubbing the back of his head, and glared at her. “Police work is not a spectator sport. You had no business chasing my siren into town.”
“I told you we should have left him in the snowbank,” Camry said.
Jack turned his glare on her. “I’m writing you up for speeding on the camp road.”
She smiled sweetly. “How was the pie, by the way? Were the apples cooked through?”
“What are you all doing here?” he asked, specifically looking at MacBain.
Robbie shrugged. “I often take walks in the evening.”
“Six or seven miles in the dead of winter? Don’t you live up on the west side of TarStone Mountain?”
Robbie nodded. “Did you get a look at your attacker?”
Jack shook his head and tried to get up, only his right knee wouldn’t cooperate and he fell back to the floor with a hiss of pain. MacBain grabbed him by the shoulders and lifted him to his feet before Jack could yelp in surprise.
“You must have banged your knee when you fell running away from the brats,” Camry said. “But it was thoughtful of them to stop and bandage your hand while you were passed out.”
“The hand is from earlier today, when a pit bull decided I looked like lunch,” Jack said as he leaned on the counter. His knee felt the size of a soccer ball. He tried putting his weight on it and quickly decided that wasn’t a good idea.
“Damn,” he muttered, reaching in his pocket for his cell phone, then sitting down when MacBain slid a chair up beside him. He punched the speed dial. “Pratt, where are you?” he asked the moment the line connected. “Then get dressed and get down to Main Street ASAP. We’ve had another break-in. I’m inside the art gallery. What? No, they trashed the outfitter store this time. Hey, you got any crutches at your house from your football days? Good, bring them along, would you?”
“The closest hospital is in Greenville,” Megan said when he slipped the phone in his pocket. “Cam and I will drive you.”
Jack shook his head. “I need to help Simon. I’ll drive myself in once we get the scene secure.” He looked at Robbie. “I hear you were in Special Forces, and that you might be willing to lend a hand if I need it.”
MacBain nodded.
“Are you up to following the tracks that guy made to see where they lead?”
Robbie gave a slight nod, then looked at Camry and Megan. “I believe you’ve had enough entertainment for one night, ladies. Time for you to go home.”
Camry started to say something, but Robbie softly said, “Now” under his breath, and she immediately closed her mouth and stood up. Megan gave a resigned sigh, and Jack watched, amazed, as the two women buttoned their coats and walked out the front door. The overhead bell jingled cheerfully in the stark silence as they disappeared into the night without so much as a backward glance.
Jack looked at Robbie MacBain. “How did you do that? More importantly, can you teach me to do it?”
Robbie lifted one brow. “It took me years to perfect that trick, so I suppose teaching you would depend on how long you intend to stick around.”
“I’m here for however long it takes,” Jack said, standing up on his good leg and squaring his shoulders. “I love her.”
“You have a strange way of showing it.”
“I sent her home for her own good. A man was murdered on the tundra, and Megan has a habit of jumping in the middle of something first and asking questions later. It was the only way I could think to keep her safe.”
A slight grin softened MacBain’s mouth. “She takes after her father, that one does.” He just as quickly sobered. “You have your work cut out for you, Stone. Megan was devastated when she came home, and it’s been my experience that women don’t recover from broken hearts very quickly—if ever.”
“I’ll eventually wear her down. Any suggestions on how I approach Greylen MacKeage?”
Robbie headed for the front door. “I’d wait until you’re healed, if I were you.” He opened the door. “And then prove you’re man enough for his daughter by taking whatever he dishes out.”
“Wait!” Jack said as Robbie stepped outside. “What has Megan got against warriors?”
Robbie snorted. “She’s made no secret of not wanting to fall in love with one, thoug
h I doubt even she understands why.”
“And your theory is?”
“Isn’t obvious, Stone? Megan is the very thing she’s running from.”
Jack stared at the closed door. Holy hell. He’d been planning a courtship when he should have been preparing for battle!
Chapter Nine
With a yawn that nearly wrenched her jaw, Megan slipped on her robe and trudged into the kitchen. “Who were you talking to?” she asked Cam, yawning again.
Camry dropped her cell phone back in her purse. “Rose Brewer. Those brats made a mess of her store, so I’m going over to help her clean up.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost eleven.”
“Good heavens, I slept the morning away. Give me ten minutes and I’ll go with you.”
“Un-uh. You shouldn’t be lifting stuff, and we don’t need a supervisor.”
Megan didn’t argue, since she was feeling a bit lazy this morning anyway. Besides, with Cam gone all afternoon, she could curl up next to the woodstove and finally start working on her survey. Megan picked up a piece of toast Cam had left on her plate. “Did Rose say if anything was stolen?”
“She can’t tell yet because of the mess. She said the candy rack was definitely a target, and that they must have been inside for quite some time because the place is littered with empty wrappers.”
“They broke in for candy?” Megan asked in surprise. “Then they must be younger than everyone thinks. Older kids would have gone after cigarettes and beer.”
Camry straightened from lacing her boots. “Great. Pine Creek’s street gang is a bunch of ten-year-olds. Rose also said the store reeks of stagnant mud and rotting vegetation, and she doesn’t know if she’ll ever get rid of the smell. Where do you suppose they found mud this time of—”
The doorbell chimed, and since she was standing right beside it, Camry opened the door and just as quickly closed it again.
“Cam! Who’s here?” Megan asked, opening the door back up. “Wayne.”
“Jack.” He straightened on his crutches and hobbled inside. “I have some questions about what you two may have seen last night.”
Secrets of the Highlander Page 8
