Dangerous Legacy (14 page)

“You think I was wrong, don’t you?” she asked.

“It’s not my place to judge. I just think that’s a heavy responsibility for a little guy, that’s all. Let him be a kid, Maggie. Don’t try to make him grow up too fast.”

“There you go again,” she countered, hands fisted on her hips. “First you tell me I’m doing a good job, then you turn around and criticize.”

“Truth, remember?” Judging by the way she rolled her eyes and tossed her head, she’d had enough truth for a while.

“You stay here and watch your... Mark. I’m going to go change for my shooting lesson.”

“Fine by me.” Sliding into a chair next to the boy, Flint helped himself to sticky bread. Maggie was right. It was all sugar and carbs. Oh, well. Once in a while wasn’t going to hurt. Mark was obviously enjoying his treat, so buying the stuff had been a good idea. Sort of.

He was at the kitchen sink, wetting a paper towel to clean the boy’s hands, when he heard Maggie shout.

“Flint! Come here.”

Milk spilled when he scooped up Mark and took him along. There was no sign of Maggie in the first bedroom, but he could tell it was hers from the dress left lying on the bed. “Where are you?”

“Mark’s room.”

With the child tucked behind him, Flint led the way into the room. It looked ransacked, but that wasn’t new. It had looked that way when he and the sheriff checked it and were assured it was usually messy.

“What’s wrong?”

“The window.”

Flint bent to peer at it. “It looks okay.”

Maggie pointed with a shaky finger. “The glass does. The screen is missing.”

“Maybe it just fell out. This is an old house.”

“Yes, it is,” Maggie replied. “It’s so old that most of the windows stick after being repainted so many times and the screens are so warped they’re nailed in.”

“Somebody pulled nails to get it off?” His pulse had been rapid when she called to him. Now his heart felt as if it might pound through the walls of his chest any moment. “We should call Harlan.”

“No. Not again. Don’t you see? The more often I report a minor crime, the more fed up he and his men are going to get. Pretty soon they won’t even want to make a run out here, let alone do it in a hurry. I think that’s part of the stalker’s plan.”

“That’s paranoid.”

“Only if nobody is after me.”

Flint nodded and added, “Us. After us.”

For once he wished Maggie would argue.

FOURTEEN

M
aggie surprised herself as a marksman but only did well when Flint loaded and cocked the handgun for her. Otherwise, she felt inept and unsure.

“I can see it’s going to take more practice before I’m proficient,” she said.

“Afraid so. Which makes my decision easier.”

Looking at him from the side, she knew she was scowling and made no effort to stop. “What decision?”

“The one I made when I found my tires flattened. I’m staying.”

If he hadn’t held up a hand to silence her, she would have interrupted before he added, “I’ll bunk on the floor in Mark’s room. You won’t even notice me.”

That’ll be the day.
“No way. When is the tow truck coming to put air in your tires?”

“Sometime before dark tonight. I told him to take his time so we’d have a chance to shoot before he got here and interrupted us. You did want a lesson, didn’t you?”

“You know I did.” Frustration with everything made her grumpy. “I’m surprised you were willing to stand in the yard with me, especially after you made me wear your bulletproof vest.”

“I’ve been thinking—” he began.

Maggie interrupted. “So have I, and I’ve come to the conclusion that whoever is causing all the trouble has blown plenty of chances to do serious harm. Maybe they don’t really want to hurt anybody.”

“Maybe. I still don’t intend to leave my son unprotected until this mystery is solved.”

She started to say,
He’s my son
, then stopped herself. Flint had a perfect right to act on Mark’s behalf. What she didn’t like acknowledging was the relief she felt knowing he was going to stay close by.

“All right.” Thinking of the logistics, Maggie smiled. “Um, would you like me to get some blankets and make you a pallet on the floor or will you just bunk with Wolfie?”

“I carry a sleeping bag and camping equipment in my truck. I’ll make do on my own.”

“Okay.” She’d expected more of a quip out of him but decided there was nothing wrong with being serious. She knew how scared she’d been during the other attacks and had only resorted to humor this time to lighten her own mood. “What will we tell Mark?”

“I don’t know. What do you usually tell him when you have company?”

“The only overnight company I’ve had is when I was sick and Mom stayed with us a few days.” Maggie pulled a face. “I suppose I should call and talk to her, but I get so mad when I think about what she did, I doubt I could be civil.”

“Then take your time. Work through it,” Flint said. He picked up the gun she’d been using, dropped the clip out and levered the last shell from the chamber before handing it to her.

“I need to lock this up somewhere.”

“Yes. For now, I’ll keep the ammo so it’s separate from the gun until we get you a lockbox. No matter how well behaved you think a kid is, they’re curious.”

“Especially
ours
,” she said, surprised when expressing shared parenthood felt right. Clearly, Flint noticed, because she saw him pause for a moment before going to his truck to stash the ammo and get his sleeping bag. By the time he tossed the roll on his shoulder and turned back to face her, however, there was no sign of uneasiness.

Except for mine,
she mused, disgusted with herself. Her life had had other confusing and trying events that she’d managed beautifully, at least in the long run. Since Flint had returned, nothing had been simple or clear-cut. Not only were her nerves frayed, but her emotional condition was reduced to a rubble of its former sturdiness.

In silent prayer for wisdom and peace, she followed Flint back into the house and locked the door behind them. This night promised to be the longest, most difficult of her life, yet if enduring it would safeguard her little boy, she’d hang in there. No matter what.

And no matter how much rumor and innuendo she had to endure in the future, she added. Sadly, there was nothing romantic left between her and Flint—and she trusted him implicitly—so she wasn’t worried on that score. She’d kept her chin up as an unwed mother. She could stand strong again.

The only aspect that truly bothered her was the nasty names some of the other kids had called poor Mark. He might not know what they’d meant yet, but it wouldn’t be long before one of those bigger boys explained it to him.

All she could do was love him unconditionally and teach him that he was a gift from God. Which he was. People made mistakes, but their heavenly Father never did. He’d given her a beautiful son and she was blessed. Period.

The natural progression of that affirmation of faith led her to think of Flint Crawford; not as he once was but as the man he’d become. If God had sent him back to her to help protect Mark, fine.

On the other hand, if there was more to his abrupt arrival in Serenity, she was going to have to come to terms with a lot of things, not the least of which was her own heart. The two of them were burdened with enough excess baggage to fill the cargo hold of a passenger jet.

And, if she was assuming correctly, at least one of those theoretical bags had the potential to be deadly. She didn’t know what was worse, worrying about an attack or wondering if they’d escape once it occurred.

* * *

“One day at a time,” Flint said amiably after she’d mentioned her concerns. “Don’t borrow trouble. Tomorrow, when it’s daylight, I’ll poke around outside and see what clues I can turn up. It’s possible those old nails holding the screen just rusted away.”

“All at once? On only
his
window?”

Flint lifted his shoulders and struck a nonchalant pose. At least he thought he did. If Maggie hadn’t reacted so strongly initially, he’d have been happier. Saying, “Relax. I’ve got this,” didn’t help a whole lot, and her nervousness was rubbing off on him.

“Why don’t you keep chilling on the couch while I bring in extra wood for the fireplace?” he said. “The weather’s supposed to turn tonight.”

“I have plenty of wood inside,” she argued. “I can take care of myself.”

“
Without
my help.”

“Look. I’m sorry. It’s just that every time you offer to do something like that it makes me feel as if you think I’m not capable.”

“What gave you that idea?”

“I don’t know. Coping by myself, I guess. Mom was dead set against my taking this job and moving out here. She kept nagging me about getting stuck in the middle of nowhere. I still doubt she believes I’ll succeed.”

“Is that why you’re out here? You’re escaping?”

To his relief, Maggie smiled slightly and shook her head. “Not primarily. I went to school to be a vet tech, but there weren’t any local jobs and I needed to stay near Mom. When Abigail Dodd offered me a chance to work with wild animals and a house to live in, I jumped at the offer.” She spread her arms wide and leaned against the back of the sofa while Mark’s head rested in her lap and the dog lay at her feet.

“Gotcha.” Flint wished he could find something constructive to do other than just watch TV or tend the fire. Being idle gave him too much time to think. About Maggie. About his son. Amazingly, he already loved that kid.

What about the boy’s mama?
Flint asked himself. Did he love her, too? Maybe. Probably. Just not the way he had as a teenager. The feelings he now had for Maggie were different. Deeper. Surer. With a lot less immediacy and a lot more patience. If he asked her to elope today and she refused, he’d find another solution. A better one.

But first things first
. They had to stick together for the common good and solve the puzzle of who was causing them so much grief. Until recently there had been no direct threat to Mark, but that had changed. Maggie had surprised a prowler in the boy’s room and now a window screen was down. Either aspect deserved extra concern.

Flint stuck his pistol in the waistband of his dress pants and pulled his heavier work jacket on over his sport coat before adding a hat. “I’m going to patrol the yard. Be back in a few minutes.”

She stiffened. “Why? Did you hear something?”

“No. It just makes sense to look around out there. You never know. I might stumble on another prowler.”

“Be careful.”

Mimicking a salute, he smiled down on his dozing son. “I will. You take care of him.”

Maggie’s “Always” was tender and softly spoken.

Flint opened the front door and stopped. “It’s snowing. Do we need to do anything more for your animals?”

“Not tonight. They have plenty of bedding to keep warm. In the morning we can add more if we need to.”

“Okay. Keep that fire going.” Although he knew she would, he felt he needed to say something else in parting. He’d chosen to inspect the property simply to relieve the tension from being around her, yet he hated to actually let her out of his sight.

Standing at the edge of the porch, he tucked the cuffs of his slacks into the tops of his boots and pondered the possible effects of the impending storm. It was early in the year for snow, so it probably wouldn’t be deep or last long. Still, any weather change called for sensible precautions.

They had plenty of food and bottled water in the house. He knew because he’d checked. And the sheds outside held sacks of special animal preparations for omnivores as well as straight herbivores like the white-tailed deer.

Flint stepped off the porch and rounded the corner of the house, already leaving tracks in the fluff of snow. There was not enough to crunch or squeak underfoot yet, so it muffled his steps.

Movement ahead caught his attention. He squinted into the flurries. Drew his sidearm and rested his thumb on the safety. Someone was rifling through the cabinet where Maggie stored her vet supplies.

He tiptoed closer. The thief froze in midmotion. So did Flint. The tableau seemed to last forever before the thief turned to look over his shoulder and spotted him.

“Freeze,” Flint shouted, taking a shooter’s stance and wishing he was in full uniform. “Officer of the law.”

Mumbled curses echoed. The man called out.

Flint pressed his back to the biggest oak in Maggie’s yard and braced himself. If attacked, he intended to give as good as he got.

The person near the medicine cabinet ducked and began to flee.

“Stop or I’ll shoot!” Flint ordered at the top of his lungs, hoping the bluff would work because he wasn’t about to shoot anybody in the back.

Snapping branches momentarily distracted him. He pivoted. Thought he heard an engine rev in the distance. There might still be time to at least track the thief or thieves, even if he wasn’t fast enough to catch up on foot.

He raced for the porch and met Maggie face-to-face as she jerked open the door.

Her eyes were wide. Filled with fright. She zeroed in on the gun in his hand. “What happened?”

“Somebody was raiding your meds. Call the sheriff and tell him I’m in pursuit.”

“You’re leaving us?”

“Harlan will be out ASAP—this is no minor incident. If I don’t go now the snow will cover the tracks and we’ll lose our chance.”

There was little doubt Maggie didn’t want him to go. But he had to. Not only was it his job to take care of crime in the wilderness, but this was the best opportunity they’d had to identify the person or persons who had been endangering her.

Flint could tell when she shifted mind-sets to embrace his opinion, even before she spoke.

“Okay. Go. I’ll lock the doors and call for help. Which way are you headed?”

“East, from the sound of it. I think I heard a vehicle start after the guy ran.” He ducked to place a quick kiss on her flushed cheek. “Make that call.”

* * *

Snow kept falling. So did temperatures. It was almost an hour before Harlan pulled up in Maggie’s yard.

She was so frantic she threw open the door and began to shout before he got all the way to the porch. “Where have you been? It’s pitch-dark out there and Flint’s all alone. You have to find him. Help him. I’d have gone, but Mark’s asleep and I couldn’t leave.”

The portly sheriff stopped and shook himself like a damp dog before entering the house. “Now, now. Let’s take a minute to talk about this,” he drawled.

“Talk is useless. Flint is out there chasing crooks, and he hasn’t called or anything. You need to organize a search party and go after him.”

Shrugging out of his coat, he hung it on a chair and splayed his icy fingers in front of her fire. “Can’t send anybody out there even if I could spare ’em, and I can’t. We’ve got multiple wrecks on the roads thanks to this storm,” Harlan said. “I shook loose to check on you, but everybody else is tied up. Your game warden will have to look after himself. Besides, if I add more men to the confusion before it stops snowing, we’ll have a worse mess.”

Maggie wanted desperately to argue her point but had no appropriate words. The older man was right.

“Have you tried to call Flint?” the sheriff asked.

She shook her head. “No. I was afraid, if he was sneaking up on somebody, the ringing of his cell would give him away.”

“Well, maybe. It’s up to you. Course, if I was him I’d have my phone set on silent.”

“That’s right!” She snatched up her own phone and punched his preset number. “It’s ringing.”

Harlan was rubbing his hands together, looking pleased.

“Hey,” she heard, followed by crackling that sounded like cellophane being crumpled.

“Flint? Where are you?”

“Halfway up Ni...ge,” he said.

“You’re breaking up. Can you get to a higher place so the signal is stronger?”

This time, his “No” was very clear. And hoarse.

“Are you on your way back?” Maggie held her breath, waiting. The phone was silent.

“Flint!” she shouted. “Talk to me.”

“Trap,” he said, followed by what sounded like his teeth chattering.

“They
trapped
you?” Maggie covered the speaker on her phone to tell the sheriff, “He’s trapped.”

Moments later there was more static. Amid the background noise she heard, “Bear,” or thought she did, and held up her hand.

“You’re in a
bear
trap?” Maggie could barely breathe, barely form the words. “Where?”

This time she was sure she heard the word
mile
. Putting his previous attempts together, she guessed, “Nine Mile Ridge? Are you near where we used to go for picnics in the summer?”