The Gift (15 page)

Dan Bailey was a good ten years older than Ty, but he carried his age well. He’d been re-elected six times, and—other than Lorilee’s disappearance—had solved every case that had come along. Of course, like most of Brubaker, he believed her case had been solved, that she’d abandoned her family and fled to Europe.

“You were right. Definitely a long-range rifle,” Dan commented when Beth handed him the bullet to examine. “I suppose it could have been a poacher with lousy aim.”

“Bullshit.” Ty’s tone was sharper than he’d intended, but they might as well get everything out on the table. “Someone deliberately cut the brake lines on her car last night.”

Dan’s brows arched in surprise. “Really?” He looked at Beth. “Where’s your car now?”

“Einstein here had it towed to Marysville.” Beth grinned when Ty scowled at her.

“Mitch’s Garage,” he provided without being asked. “He checked the lines himself.”

Dan nodded and actually made a few notes on a memo pad he pulled from his pocket. “I’ll call him when I get back to the office.” He took a few more bites of stew. “Pearl, you are the finest cook in the county.”

“Don’t let these fine men be forgetting it, either,” the woman said with a giggle.

“Not in this lifetime,” Cecil said, and gave her cheek a peck.

“That’s a promise,” Ty agreed.

“Thank you for preparing something special for me, Mrs. Montgomery,” Heppel said. “It’s delicious.”

“You’re welcome. And I’ve told you before to call me Pearl.”

“Looks like someone doesn’t want you here, Ms. Dearborn,” Dan said as he pushed his bowl away. “You’re here to investigate Lorilee’s disappearance for the insurance company, as I understand it. Correct?”

“Actually, sir, to prove or disprove her death,” Beth corrected, “since there’s been a claim filed for her life insurance.”

“What’s your background, Ms. Dearborn, before insurance investigating?” Dan asked. “If you don’t mind sharing.”

“I don’t mind at all.” She kept her gaze leveled on the sheriff. “I was on the Chicago Police Department. Homicide.”

Dan let out a low whistle. “Impressive credentials.”

Cecil added, “Don’t that beat all?”

“Homicide?” Ty hadn’t known that part.

“Yes, Homicide.” Beth toyed with the food remaining in her bowl. “Really delicious stew, Pearl.”

“All right, so it’s a life-insurance claim,” Dan continued, as if they’d never strayed off topic. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “And Ty, being the beneficiary, would want you here. So that rules him out.”

“Damn straight,” Ty said.

“I think we can rule out Pearl and Cecil, too.” Dan smiled. “And you said they were both in the barn at the time anyway.”

“That’s right.” Cecil reached for a roll. “Got us a new filly.”

“Always good news.” Dan turned the bullet over and over between his thumb and forefinger. “What about you, Rick? Do you have a rifle this might fit?”

Everybody turned to stare at the old hippie. He seemed very calm for someone who’d more or less just been accused of attempted murder.

Rick placed his fork on his plate and folded his hands in front of him. “I don’t own
any
guns.”

“None at all?”

“I’m a pacifist.”

“Since Nam?” Dan poked.

Heppel lurched to his feet, nearly tipping over his chair. “We aren’t talking about that. Not now. Not ever.” Though his words were harsh, his tone was almost fiercely calm.

Pearl rose and patted Rick’s arm. “No, son. We aren’t. Sit, sit. It’s fine. Sit.”

The look Pearl gave everyone at the table put an immediate end to Rick’s interrogation. The big man did as she asked, but he sat stoically and didn’t resume eating.

Ty noticed the way Pearl handled Rick was different from the way Lorilee had treated him. Lorilee had treated Rick as an equal. She hadn’t let him pull that crap with her—at least it hadn’t seemed that way to Ty. However, the pair had spent a lot more time alone together than Ty would have liked. Of course,
Rick was old enough to have been Lorilee’s father. Still…

Pearl, on the other hand, treated him almost maternally, though they were probably near the same age. In fact, Heppel might have had a few years on her.

He sensed the cogs turning in Beth’s brain. She sat right beside him, at the place usually occupied by Sarah. So far, she’d remained fairly quiet, but he figured that would change. He also noticed she hadn’t touched the wine Pearl had served with dinner. After being shot at, you’d think she could’ve used a belt or three.

Just thinking about it made him reach for his. He’d have preferred three fingers of the Irish whiskey his father had always kept for “medicinal purposes.” Dad hadn’t consumed alcohol often, and when he did it was always Jameson’s. He called it his one indulgence, and it was. John Malone had been a hardworking man of modest means, and had lived his life and raised his son that way.

Ty refilled his wine, which was rare for him. He wasn’t much of a drinker as a rule. Not after living with Lorilee. As the years went by and her secret drinking increased, he’d realized the importance of the children having one sober parent around. He suppressed the sigh threatening to escape and turned his attention back to Dan and the conversation.

“I’ll take this bullet in to Forensics,” he said. “But without a weapon, you know it won’t do much good.”

“Unless there’s a previous record.” Beth reached for her water glass and took a sip.

“Is the wine not to your liking, Beth?” Pearl asked. “I have a white chilled, if you pre—”

“No, it’s not that, Pearl,” she interrupted. “I don’t drink.” She shrugged and set down her water glass. “Rick doesn’t eat meat and I don’t drink alcohol. No biggie.”

“I should’ve asked first.” Pearl stood and removed Beth’s wineglass, passing it over to Cecil. “You aren’t going anywhere tonight, old man.”

With a laugh, he took the glass. “Only with you, old woman. Only with you.”

Ty had never met a cop, or former one, who didn’t drink. As she’d said, “no biggie,” so he dismissed it and concentrated on what was important.

He leveled his gaze on Dan. “Look, I know you and most of the town gossips wrote off Lorilee’s disappearance after that bogus letter came.”

He held up his hand when Dan started to speak. “Hear me out, please.”

Dan set aside his fork and leaned back in his chair. “I’m listening, Ty.”

And he was. The man’s expression definitely seemed receptive enough. So Ty drew a deep breath and looked around the table before continuing.

“The kids and I have put up with a lot of crap these past seven years. Gossip and rumors and stories about fake sightings.”

“I know. I’ve had to investigate them.”

Ty nodded. “And they’ve all turned out to be false for the same reason, Dan. The same reason I’ve known all along.”

“Because Lorilee was murdered,” Rick Heppel said quietly, his arms folded, his chin on his chest.
“She was murdered and her body hidden somewhere so we wouldn’t find her.”

Every person at the table turned toward Rick. Only the grandfather clock in the adjoining room made any sound at all, when it chimed seven times.

“And how do you know that, Rick?” Beth asked in a matter-of-fact tone. “Unless you were there?”

Beth kept her gaze glued to Heppel. He matched her stare for stare, the silence stretching. Finally, he leaned back in his chair and said, “You’re the cop. Figure it out.”

“Now, Rick…” Dan pushed to his feet. “That’s uncalled for, and you know it.” He resumed his seat after a moment. “You made a damn strong accusation. If you have something to back it up, share.”

“Yeah, share,” Ty said, his tone etched with acid as he emphasized each word with his finger. “I’ve spent seven years trying to find out what happened to my wife. If you know, we’d really appreciate it.”

He didn’t reach for his wine this time, but water. And drained it. Beth could have used a refill herself, though the wine was sounding better and better. But no…not after last night’s nightmare. She had to be extra careful.

Extra alert.

Especially with the word
murder
now out of the closet. “I asked you this question at your place, Rick,” she continued, her tone still as mellow as she could make it. “What makes you so certain Lorilee is dead? And more important, why are you so convinced she was murdered?”

He nodded. “Fair enough. I’ll share.” Rick steepled his fingers under his chin, staring across the room at something only he could see. “Ty, Pearl, Cecil, and I all know she wouldn’t have left her babies. Agreed?”

They all murmured in agreement.

“That don’t prove she’s dead, or that she was murdered,” Dan argued.

“Then where is she?” Rick half turned and seemed like a different person—more educated, more outspoken, more confident. “After all these years, if she didn’t leave under her own power—and the people who knew her best know she didn’t—then where the devil is she, man?” He slammed his fist down on the table, much as he had that night Beth had eaten dinner at his place. “Where, dammit?”

“Thank you,” Ty said, and reached across the table with his right hand extended.

“For what?” Rick eyed Ty’s hand with open suspicion.

“For saying it outright and honestly.”

Rick shook Ty’s hand, and Beth made a mental note to scratch Heppel off her list of suspects. She trusted gut instinct, and even though her empathic and psychic abilities did not extend into this realm, she just knew.

“What happened today, and the fact that someone is working so hard to keep me from uncovering the long-buried truth, lends credence to Rick’s theory,” Beth said, choosing her words carefully. “What do you think, Sheriff?”

Sheriff Bailey leaned toward her and said, “Your office got a court order for the letter. Happy?”

Beth smiled and took another sip of water. “Not yet, but it’s a start.”

“It’s about damn time,” Ty said.

“The letter,” Rick repeated. “
The
letter? The one that started all the lies about Lorilee?”

“One and the same.” Ty leaned back in his chair. “I never even laid eyes on that letter. Bill wouldn’t let me see it. He was so upset by it, he just wanted to sweep it all under the rug and move on. Said he felt betrayed by his own flesh and blood.”

“Trust me, I remember.” The sheriff sighed again. “He’s gonna have my hide over this.”

“No, he won’t,” Beth said, still smiling. “I already told him about it.” She did her Southern-belle eyelash thing again.

Pearl actually laughed. “Don’t you beat all.”

Cecil said, “Amen. It’s time Lorilee’s memory was cleared, and this mess put to rest once and for all.”

“Well…” The sheriff looked around the table, his expression one of resignation. “Looks like I’m outnumbered here.”

“That’s a fact,” Ty said.

“I have an apple crisp in the kitchen if anyone’s of a mind for dessert,” Pearl said, rising with dirty dishes balanced in both hands.

Cecil groaned and imitated her actions. “I’m so stuffed, I couldn’t eat another bite.”

Echoes of agreement swept around the table, and everybody followed the woman—despite her protests—to the kitchen with their own dishes in tow. Beth couldn’t help feeling a pang of envy for the deep love and respect every person present—including Rick Heppel—obviously felt for Pearl Montgomery.

Though she was a housekeeper, she was a queen in this house, and treated like part of the family. From what Beth had seen, she deserved every ounce of that respect.

Beth hadn’t met a lot of people in her life she truly admired, but Pearl and Cecil Montgomery were at the top of her list. Ty was lucky to have them here for his children, and for himself. And to his credit, he clearly knew it.

Rick Heppel announced it was time for his “bird to fly” while he was still awake enough to pilot it. While Cecil helped Pearl clean up the kitchen, Beth and Ty walked out to the chopper with Rick and the sheriff.

“Stay in touch, and let me know if anything else suspicious happens,” the sheriff said as he climbed into the small helicopter. “Damn, I hate these things.”

Rick Heppel laughed. “I heard that.”

“Hey, Rick,” Ty called. “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you laugh before.”

Rick grinned through his beard in the lighted cockpit. “You hadn’t earned it before, cowboy.”

“I am not a cow—”

Ty’s words were drowned out by the starting engine and whirling blades. Beth and Ty ducked and hurried back toward the house as the chopper rose into the air and headed toward Brubaker.

When they reached the front steps, Beth stopped and tugged on his hand. “Remember? I don’t do front doors,” she said.

“Oh, that.” He took a step closer and pulled her into his arms, allowing his hands to snake downward
and cup her butt, tugging her firmly against his erection. “What
do
you do, Beth?”

“
I know you’re there. Help me!
”

She knows we’re here. We have to move away.
“We’re too close.”

“I want to get a lot closer,” Ty whispered, nuzzling the lobe of her ear.

“Not here.” She pulled away and tugged on his hand. “Wait until Pearl and Cecil go home. Besides, you said we’re going to talk. Remember?”

“Me and my big mouth.” He followed her quick strides with plodding steps. “I need to check on Cissy anyway.”

“I’m goin’ to do that now,” Cecil said as he headed out the back door. “That’s what your fancy webcam is for, anyhow. Then me ‘n Pearl are callin’ it a day.”

“Thanks, my friend,” Ty called. “It’s been a long day.”

“So we’ll go help Pearl finish in the kitchen,” Beth said, heading around to the back door as fast as she could. The spirit in the foyer was definitely gaining strength.

She met Pearl at the mudroom door. “All done. I just started the dishwasher. All you two have left is turnin’ off the lights. Oh, and lock the doors tonight, Ty.”

Ty sighed and Beth laughed. “That’s what I keep telling him.” She aimed her thumb over her shoulder. “But he says you don’t do that on a farm.”

Pearl held up the jailer’s ring of keys she had hanging around her neck. “Then why do you make the kids do it when you or I aren’t here, Ty?” She laughed at his sigh. “ ‘Night, you two.”

“ ‘Night, Pearl,” Ty called. Once she closed the door behind her, he slid the bolt. “It’s locked.”

“Go check the front door, too.”

“Come with me?”

“No, Ty. I’m tired. I’m going up—”

“We’re having a talk. Remember?”

“Yes. I remember.” She turned off the kitchen light as he headed for the front of the house, then went to the back staircase.

“Meet me in my room at the top of the stairs,” he called back to her through the empty house.

Top of the stairs, left, then right. Wasn’t that the room from her dream?

She almost tripped on the bottom step, but gripped the banister and pulled herself up one step at a time. Maybe they’d just talk.

But she knew better. This thing between them had been coming to a head since the moment he’d stopped to change her flat tire. She had to make the choice in order to be in control, and that was exactly what she was doing now. It was time. Past time.

Sure, they both had enough baggage to keep every bellhop in Chicago busy for a year. But even her self-enforced pragmatism couldn’t deny how her feelings were evolving.

Take it slow, Dearborn. Control…

With a secret smile, she remembered the other stop she’d made besides Gooch’s Garage that afternoon, and reached into the front pocket of her jeans to make sure the three-pack of condoms was still there.

It was time.

Resigned and more excited than she cared to examine, she just hoped only two of them occupied his bed tonight.

There she stood beside his bed. Light from the hallway spilled through the open doorway into the dark room, bathing her in a golden glow. He couldn’t wait to run his hands through her soft, short curls.

She obviously knew that talking wasn’t uppermost on his mind, since she was waiting for him in the dark. Beside his bed.

“All locked,” he said, walking over to stand right in front of her. “Happy now?”

“Almost.” The tone of her voice told him she wanted him as much as he wanted her, if that was possible.

“I’m out of practice, you know.”

“Then you’re due a workout.”

“Holy…” He released a long, slow breath and nibbled the lobe of her ear. “Be gentle with me,” he teased.

“Not a chance, cowboy.”

“It’s a good day to die.”

Ty gently pressed her down to sit on the edge of his neatly made bed and stood with his hands on her shoulders. Her unique, haunting scent wafted up from her closely cropped curls to fill his senses. No fancy perfume here. She smelled clean, fresh, and sexy as hell.

He barely knew this woman, yet she’d invaded his life, his home, and his mind with a gusto that left him breathless. He wanted her in ways he hadn’t believed he was still capable of wanting a woman. She’d made a part of him that had died return to the living. She was a gift of fate, or perhaps it was simply time.

She reached toward him, brought her hands up to cup his face. They felt cool and soothing against his
burning skin. With the tips of her fingers, she drew an invisible line from the lobe of his ear to his mouth, then gently stroked the contour of his lips. Lips that wanted to sample every toned curve, every valley, every soft inch of her.

Beth didn’t have an ounce of extra flesh, but she wasn’t scrawny by any means. She leaned toward the athletic side—probably all those martial arts. He smiled down at her.

“Something funny?” she asked, her voice huskier than usual.

“I was just remembering when you threw me and buried your knee in my spine.”

One corner of her full mouth curved upward. “Did I hurt you?” Her eyes smoldered. “Want me to kiss it and make it better?”

“Oh, yeah.” He caught his breath in anticipation. “Definitely.”

“Well, I might have a few bruised ribs you can tend the same way…”

Though he didn’t like to think of her being shot at or in pain, he swallowed hard when she stepped flush against him. Without hesitation, she captured his mouth with hers. His arms snaked around her waist and pulled her hard against him.

Her lips were soft and sweet, like Pearl’s best dessert, only better. Much better, and far more enticing. She parted her lips, drawing him inward to taste and explore.

And he did. God help him, but he was lost. Maybe a part of him was using her to heal himself. Maybe he had no right.

Then why did this seem so right? Why now? Why this woman?

Sweet.
That one word described and explained so much. After years of torment, of grieving, of living hell, he’d found this sweetness. Not her personality, but her response. Her generosity. Her spirit.

A still sane part of his brain knew Beth Dearborn would hate being thought of as sweet. Later—much later—he would tell her, and she might throw him to the floor again. At another time and place, the thought might have made him laugh. But not now.

He fused himself—mind, body, soul—to the sweetness. The now.

Their mouths became feverish, studying, claiming, consuming until Ty thought he’d die from craving more of her. She oozed more natural sexuality than any female he’d ever known, seen, or even imagined.

And then some.

She explored him with eager hands, her long fingers caressing the spot on his slightly bruised back where her knee had been planted night before last. Then she pulled his shirt from the waistband of his jeans. Her sighs of longing echoed his and filled his mouth, arousing the inferno that already burned him to his very soul.

Beth’s movements became more frantic, almost jerky. Ty sensed her need matching his, and he knew she would not deny them tonight.

His shirt had snaps instead of buttons, and she took full advantage, ripping it open in what he considered a Beth-like manner. Her usual caution had no role here. She groaned into his mouth when her hands met his bare torso, and she broke their kiss to explore new territory, tracing small circles around his nipples with her tongue.

He was hot and hard and horny as hell.

“Beth?”

“Hmm?”

With a groan, he grabbed a handful of her T-shirt and tugged it upward, forcing her to break contact long enough to pull it over her head. “No bra,” he whispered.

He barely caught a glimpse of her newly bared flesh before she resumed her teasing. He’d never known a man’s nipples could be so…so…

Then she nipped him with her teeth and he growled. She lifted her head to stare at him and he swallowed. Hard.

How long would she torment him? How long would she make them both wait for what they both so obviously needed?

As if she’d heard his silent question, she unfastened his belt buckle, then released the five buttons of his fly.

“What’s in there?” she asked, pressing the palm of her hand against his throbbing erection. “Mmm.”

“Easy, Beth,” he warned. “It’s…been a while.”

“Me, too.” Her tone was filled with empathy. She pressed her bare breasts against his chest. “I want you, Ty.”

“I’d say the same, but it’d be the understatement of the year.”

His gaze dipped lower to her breasts, nicely rounded against his ribs. The only light in the room came from the hallway. “I should’ve turned on the lamp.”

“We’ll do that next time.”