Snowfall (32 page)

Momentarily blinded by the darkness after the glare of sun on snow, they paused in the shadows as their eyes adjusted to the light.

“There,” Kowalksi said quietly, moving toward an iron staircase at the far end of the building. “McKee’s going that way.”

Mac entered the warehouse at full speed, the officer who’d driven the car right behind him. The ground floor was empty, the huge space unbroken except for a couple dozen steel beams that were part of the structure itself.

From the corner of his eye, he caught a brief flash of red and spun toward the sight. Caitlin had been wearing a red scarf when she left. He headed toward the stairs, where the scarf hung like a beacon.

They ran with guns drawn, knowing that at any moment shots could rain down on them from above. Within seconds they were there, taking the steps two at a time. The echo of their footsteps ricocheted from one end of the building to the other, and yet Mac didn’t pull back. He would rather die going after her than hesitate and find her already dead.

They reached the top, only to see a series of what had probably been offices. A quick glance down the hallway and the dust on the floors told Mac that none of them had been disturbed—except the last one on the left. He could see the trail in the dust where something had been dragged inside. The door was slightly ajar.

“Down there,” he mouthed and hit the door running, kicking it open with his boot, his gun steadied with both hands as he aimed straight before him.

After that, everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

His mind shattered, accepting only bits and pieces of what he was seeing.

Caitlin tied to the floor and not moving.

Neil kneeling over her body with a knife.

Blood on her face.

Blood on his hands.

He heard himself scream out Neil’s name, and then everything started coming undone.

Neil jerked and then stood, spinning to face the enemy.

Mac fired, taking absent note as a blossom of red suddenly appeared on Neil’s shirt.

He fired again, then again and again, emptying his gun into J.R. Neil’s chest, and yet the man still stood, as if his body had been suspended by invisible wires.

“Is he dead?” the young officer asked.

He was saved from answering as Neil swayed and then fell, hitting the floor with a hard, solid thud.

Seconds later Mac was on his knees beside Caitlin, feeling for a pulse. There was none. Grabbing the knife Neil had dropped, he slashed the ropes at her wrists and ankles, then tossed her bonds aside as he searched for hidden injuries.

“Please, God, no,” he begged, then slid his hand beneath her head, arching her neck to clear her airway as he began to do CPR.

Moments later Amato and Trudy arrived. Instantly she was on her knees and, without uttering a word, began doing the chest compressions. Over and over they worked—Mac breathing for Caitlin, Trudy working Caitlin’s heart.

“Help is coming,” Amato said. “An ambulance is on the way.”

But Caitlin wasn’t breathing and Mac wasn’t quitting—not on this woman. Not ever.

Another minute passed as his hopes began to die. Then, suddenly, Caitlin coughed.

“She’s breathing!” Trudy shouted, and rocked back on her heels.

“Thank you, God,” Mac whispered, rolling Caitlin over on her side and patting her on her back as she struggled to draw air. “Easy, Caitie…it’s Mac.”

She grabbed his wrist, her fingernails digging into his flesh. Dragging in oxygen through a bruised and burning throat, she tried to crawl into his lap.

“Thank you, God,” he said softly, dragged her into his arms and started to cry.

Trudy stood abruptly. Without looking at his face, she stepped over Neil’s body as if it were a piece of filth and walked out.

Paulie reached for her arm as she passed. “Kowalksi, I—”

Amato stopped him. “Let her go,” he said. “She’s got to deal with this on her own.”

They turned then, looking at the man on the floor and the woman in his arms. Paulie took off his overcoat and handed it to Mac.

“They always leave ’em bare,” he muttered. “I hate it when that happens.”

Mac grabbed the coat, pulling it closer around Caitlin as she clung to him in terror.

“It’s all right,” he kept saying. “Everything is going to be all right.”

Epilogue

One week later

C
aitlin opened the oven door to check the progress of the turkey, then quickly shut it again, satisfied that all was as it should be.

Running down her mental list of things still left to do, she turned toward the sink to finish cleaning the vegetables. As she reached for a knife, her fingers started to shake. But she took a deep breath, reminding herself that the nightmare was over.

Mac came into the kitchen as she began to dice the celery.

“Everything smells wonderful,” he said, then wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled the back of her neck. “Including you.”

She turned in his arms, allowing herself the luxury of one quick, passionate kiss.

“Hold that thought,” she whispered.

“As tight as I’m holding you,” Mac said, then laid his cheek against the top of her hair.

They stood for a moment, savoring the silence and the joy of being held, and then Caitlin pulled back, knowing how easily the moment could spin out of control.

“I’ve got to finish these vegetables. Aaron and David will be here soon.”

“Is Leibowitz going to come?”

Caitlin grinned. “No, thank goodness, although I held my breath when I asked him. He’s going to L.A. with a new client,” she said. “A pretty one, too, from what his secretary says.”

“That’s good. He’s was too damned possessive to suit me.”

“Without provocation, I can assure you.”

He sighed, unable to put into words what her presence in his life meant to him. She didn’t have to tell him who she loved. She’d shown him many times over.

He kissed the side of her face, just because he could, and because he still got cold chills remembering the panic of blowing oxygen into her lifeless body.

“I know, baby. Is there anything I can do to help?”

She pointed to an apron hanging on the pantry doorknob.

“Sure, grab an apron and a paring knife and dig in. You can peel the potatoes for me.”

“I’m not wearing an apron,” he said, as he picked up the peeler and a potato.

Caitlin stopped to watch, tracing the obstinate thrust of his jaw with her gaze and letting her feelings for him fill her soul.

“I love you, you know.”

Mac paused, the potato half peeled in his hand, and met her troubled gaze.

“I love you, too, baby.”

“I know,” she said, her voice quiet with satisfaction.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded, remembering the nightmare she’d had last night and the panic she’d seen on his face when she’d awakened with a scream.

“Today is a good day.”

“Good enough to think about marrying me?”

Her eyes widened. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

“Are you finally admitting that you love me enough to forgive me for being born rich?”

He grinned wryly. “Yeah, I guess. So…what do you say?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a kiss square on his mouth.

“I say yes,” she said, and laid her head against his chest in quiet joy.

“Would you live with me in Atlanta?” he asked.

She smiled as she looked up. “Of course! I can write anywhere, as long as I know you’ll come home to me every night.”

His arms tightened briefly, and then he turned her loose.

“Wait,” he said, digging in the pocket of his jeans. “I had this…just in case.” He pulled out a ring box and took out the ring. “It belonged to my mother,” he said. “If it doesn’t fit, we can have it sized.”

Caitlin stared at the two-carat yellow diamond he was putting on her hand, her mouth open in shock.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

“It’s an heirloom. Close to a hundred and fifty years old now, if our family history is to be believed. It was on my great-great-great grandmother’s finger when she survived an Indian raid, and my great-grandmother was wearing it when she lost her husband and baby to typhoid fever. The women in my family have always been tough. Like you, they were survivors. I wish you could have known them.”

“Oh, Mac,” Caitlin said, and then started to cry.

“Well, hell,” Mac said as he gathered her in his arms. “I meant to make you happy. You know I can’t stand it when you cry.”

“I
am
happy,” Caitlin said. “You just touched my heart.”

The doorbell rang.

Caitlin gasped. “That will be Aaron and David. I’ll get it. I want to see how long it takes him to notice the ring.”

“Sorry, but they already know. I had to have Aaron get it out of the safe-deposit box for me.”

She grinned. “That’s all right. At least the bandages are off his face and he’ll be able to see it on my hand.”

She hurried toward the door, leaving him in the kitchen to finish the potatoes. He heard his brother’s voice, then laughter and a small, rousing cheer. She’d shown them the ring. He smiled, trying to imagine what the next sixty-odd years with her might be like. They wouldn’t be boring, of that he was certain.

She’d come to terms with the lie of Devlin Bennett’s life, especially after the last of the research Mac had done on her behalf. Instead of looking for answers in Neil’s past, they’d looked in Devlin’s, instead.

And the answers had been there, locked away in old hospital files and family journals and diaries they found in an undiscovered safe-deposit box. The secrets. The shame. Hiding the thread of insanity that had run through his family had been Devlin’s cross to bear. It had spilled from father to son, passed from mother to daughter, through four generations until Devlin was born.

After witnessing his grandfather’s suicide and hearing the whispers of the family past, he’d sworn he would be the last. It would end with him or he would know the reason why.

Mac could only imagine the horror Devlin must have felt when his girlfriend, Georgia, had turned up pregnant and the fight that had ensued when she’d refused to abort the child. But he had to give it to Devlin. He hadn’t abandoned her without thought. Even if it was guilt alone that had kept it coming, he’d sent support for her all the rest of her life, even after his son had reached maturity. They would never know what had happened to the money Georgia Calhoun received. Caitlin guessed that it might have wound up in a church, or given to a home for unwed mothers. Mac was inclined to agree. It made the horror of what had happened a little easier to bear.

As for Devlin, adopting Caitlin had been the only way his beloved wife would ever mother a child. Whether she’d known of his family history or not, they would never know. It was enough for Caitlin that she’d been wanted desperately from the start. She had no interest in finding her birth parents. After what she’d gone through with Neil, she was all too aware of the dangers of digging into a past better left undisturbed.

“You’re awfully quiet, big brother.”

Mac turned. Aaron was grinning at him from the doorway.

“I’m on KP.”

Aaron snitched a celery stick from the colander where Caitlin had left them and began to eat.

“That ring looks pretty good on her finger, doesn’t it?” he asked.

Mac grinned. “Almost as good as the woman herself.”

“I did good, didn’t I?” Aaron asked.

Mac frowned, not following Aaron’s train of thought.

“How so?”

“I could have called a professional bodyguard, you know. She could certainly have afforded a dozen.”

Mac stopped, staring at his brother in disbelief as Aaron kept on talking.

“Of course, I wouldn’t have wished this on her for anything in the world, but since it was happening, I thought it was the perfect reason to get the bickering between you two over with.”

“Are you serious?”

Aaron grinned and took another bite of celery.

“As a heart attack. Remember two Christmases ago when I told you that you and Caitlin would make a good couple?”

“You were drunk.”

“I was still right,” Aaron said, waving the celery stick beneath Mac’s nose as he backed out of the room.

“You did it on purpose?”

“Yes.”

Mac grinned. “So I have you to thank for the hell I went through?”

“And for Caitlin. You have to thank me for her, too. God only knows how long it would have taken you two to wake up if I hadn’t interfered. I am the best,” he crowed, in an imitation of their childhood taunts, when one-upmanship mattered most of all.

Mac laughed. “Yeah, but I won the girl.”

Aaron rolled his eyes. “Like I care.”

This time, they both laughed aloud.

“What’s so funny?” Caitlin asked.

“Nothing,” they said in unison.

Her eyes narrowed. She’d seen them in this mood before.

“Get out,” she said, pointing toward the living room. “Get out of my kitchen and go do something.”

“Like what?” Mac asked.

“I don’t know,” she muttered. “Just go be men.”

“I’ll give it my best shot,” Aaron said, then laughed at his own wit as he sauntered out, leaving Mac to follow.

The joy in her heart was almost perfect as she went about finishing the meal. Although this wasn’t the first Christmas she’d spent in Mac’s company, it was her first as a woman in love. Everything smelled sweeter. Food tasted richer. Hearts beat faster. It was the best. Only now and then did a flash of evil tease her mind, but she quickly pushed it away.

Just as she was about to take the turkey out of the oven, the doorbell rang again. Confident that there were three able-bodied men to answer, she continued with the task, taking pride in the golden-brown skin of the bird in the pan.

A couple of minutes later, Mac came hurrying into the room. “Honey, there’s someone to see you.”

She frowned. “Oh, Mac, can’t you deal with it? The food is almost ready. We’re about to sit down to eat.”

He shook his head. “Trust me,” he said. “You don’t want to miss this.”

She took off her apron and wiped her hands.