The Other Daughter (44 page)

Finding Melanie in Huntsville had been easy. She was smart and resourceful, he was proud to say, but it was a simple matter to trace her to the motel and set up watch. The arrival of the FBI bloke had made him nervous, but they seemed to have a thing between the two of them. Not bad really. He'd run a check on Special Agent David Riggs in the very beginning, as he'd done with all of his daughter's acquaintances. It was a father's prerogative, he liked to think, to want to know his daughter's associates.

The Riggs man had checked out well. Middle-class roots. Good rep with the Bureau, and Jamie had heard this from an inside source who hated to give praise. Shame about the arthritis, but the boy seemed to move well enough and was certainly above average in the brains department, as he'd figured out Harper Stokes quickly enough. That alone made him A-OK in Jamie's book.

The man's presence, however, had made shadowing Melanie a lot trickier. He doubted Melanie would ever think to check her rearview mirror, but Riggs was a trained professional. Jamie had had to follow them the hard way, staying three car-lengths back, occasionally turning off. Once they'd reached the neighborhood where Mrs. Appleebee lived, it had been easier. He merely pulled over at a gas station on the main road and waited.

When their rental car had finally reemerged forty-five minutes later, Jamie had had a clear view of Melanie's face. She'd looked pale, shaken, and anguished.

Mother of God, his heart had lurched in his chest.

It seemed that all the times he tried to protect his daughter, he only brought her pain. And that left him with the horrible, bitter thought that maybe Harper was the better one of them after all. She'd run into his arms naturally enough when he'd adopted her. Called him Dad, went out of her way to make him smile. Seemed happy.

When Jamie had crouched down to see his daughter, his own daughter whom he'd protected at great personal risk for five long years, she recoiled from his embrace.

He still remembered the moment clearly. The way his heart had simply stopped beating in his chest. The taste of dust in his mouth. The way his reaching fingers had curled into a fist.

Harper's smug smile from across the room, enjoying Jamie's pain.

And the sudden realization of just how much he hated the son of a bitch.

From that day forward, Jamie had wanted nothing more than for Melanie to remember. She should know the true nature of self-centered, money-hungry Harper Stokes. She should know the true nature of Jamie and how honestly he had loved her over the years.

But it never happened. Melanie was happy as Melanie. Harper was surprisingly good to her, maybe because he knew it rankled Jamie so much. Or maybe he had cared for Meagan too, more than he would ever admit. Patricia and Brian adored her, falling back into their roles as mother and brother so gratefully, it had made Jamie's chest ache. And Melanie …Melanie grew into such a lovely, content young lady, Jamie's rage lost all momentum.

He could want only what was best for her, he discovered. And though his pride demanded action and his shame and hurt feelings rankled, he never made a move to interfere. Loving a child, he learned, was humbling. How the mighty had fallen, and how easily he'd accepted the tumble from grace.

Then, six months ago, Harper foisted William Sheffield onto Melanie. Harper kicking Brian out of the house over such a thing as being gay. And then cold, petty Harper letting Patricia dissolve into drinking again, until Melanie's whole family was once more ripped apart. Pretending to be better than his whole damn family while all the while he was slicing open healthy patients for a buck.

Jamie had had enough. He'd given Harper the world twenty-five years ago. A fresh start with a million bucks, and as soon as the time was right, his own daughter to make Harper's family complete. There was nothing more one man could give another. There was nothing more one man could do to ensure Patricia Stokes's happiness. How dare Harper piss it all away for a buck.

Even in a rage Jamie could be remarkably cold. He'd plotted his strategy, made his plan, set the wheels in motion.

Harper would finally get his due, and Jamie would finally get his triumph.

Except so much had happened along the way. Harper hiring a hit man to take out Larry Digger and his adopted daughter. Jamie had figured it out the minute he saw the police sketch on TV — that was one of his acquaintances, whom he had introduced to Harper in the past, and Jamie sure as hell hadn't hired him to attack Larry Digger, so that meant Harper must have. Jamie had to hunt the fellow down and plug three bullets into his heart simply for principle's sake. You did not mess with his daughter.

As for Harper's due …all in good time.

Except Harper surprised him again. Pushing William so hard the boy cracked. Then trying to finger Melanie in the boy's shooting. As if Russell Lee Holmes's son had deserved any better.

Then today, just forty-five minutes earlier, Jamie caught sight of Harper Stokes here in Houston, obviously trying to track down his daughter.

The players were assembled, but the pieces were moving faster than Jamie had expected. And for the first time since he'd started this a month before, he was genuinely afraid.

Not for himself, but for Melanie.

Now he was parked on the road above the Stokeses' old house with a clear view of the street. He saw Patricia and Ann Margaret arrive. And then he spotted Harper, parked along a side street, waiting.

David and Melanie approaching. Harper pulling out. Harper gunning the gas. And then the cars were racing. Up over one hill, thundering down another.

The squeal of tires. The crash of metal. Jamie watched all his worst fears pass before his eyes and was too far away to do a thing about it. The car spinning, hitting the other, sailing into the air. The sickening crunch as it landed, the hood popping up.

He could hear Patricia and Ann Margaret still shouting from the house, beginning to run. Screaming.

He waited himself, breath held, for a sign of his daughter.

A car door opened. Melanie staggered into view. Blood on her forehead. She seemed dazed and confused. Suddenly she plunged into the woods.

Jamie tried to call out for her, but he was too far away. Harper had spotted her from his own car. He was out. He was wielding a gun. He was plunging into the woods.

No sign of life from Riggs yet, and no time to check. His first thought, his only thought, was always Melanie.

And this is how it all comes down, Jamie thought fatalistically.

He started moving. He had a weapon, he had experience, he had training on his side. And yet as he plunged into the woods, he was thinking of his daughter, and he had never been so afraid.

You don't know enough yet, lass. You don't know…

Ah, Jesus God, you may take my silly life, just keep my little girl safe. Just protect my little girl from Harper.

FOUR-YEAR-OLD MEAGAN was running. Running, running, running. Branches caught at her hair, cut her cheek. Low, scraggly bushes tore at her favorite blue dress, trying to hold her back.

She kept slogging forward, little legs pumping. Had to run. Had to run fast. Had to run fast, fast, fast.

She wanted to go home to her mommy. Time to go home.

Meagan pushed faster, but behind her, she could still hear the footsteps pounding closer.

Dada Jamie was going to get her. Dada Jamie was going to force her back to the shack. No, no, she wanted her mommy. She wanted Brian!

You can't go home, Meagan. They don't want you anymore.
Want to go home
! It's going to be okay, lass, I'll take care of you, we'll get you out of here and to someplace much much nicer. Why, you'll get to live like a princess in a faraway kingdom called London.
Want to go home
! I know, love, but you can't. Harper …your da, he's not safe for you right now. He's not even your real da, love, and I'm afraid all he really wants these days is money.
WANT TO GO HOME
! Love, no!

Footsteps, closer. Crashing underbrush, crackling branches.

Run, Meagan, run. Faster, faster.

Footsteps closer…

Run, run.

Breathing closer…

RUN, MEAGAN, RUN!

The hand whipped out and caught her hard around the middle. Melanie tried to scream. A second hand slapped over her mouth while she was yanked against a big, burly body.

“Shh, lass,” Jamie O'Donnell whispered in her ear, dragging her deeper into the thick underbrush. “Don't make a noise.”

And for the first time, Melanie became aware of more sounds of crackling in the underbrush. Harper suddenly appeared twenty feet in front of them, making his way through the trees and holding a very large gun.

DAVID WOKE UP to ringing in his ears. He blinked his eyes, wondering what he was doing in the shooting range. Then he wondered why it was so bright inside the shooting range. Then he wondered why his face was so wet.

He raised a hand. Brought it back down. He had blood all over his face.

He reached for Melanie, then saw that she wasn't there. The car door was wide open, seat belt dragged out into the dirt. A second car sandwiched behind them, the driver's door also flung open into the breeze.

David shoved against his door. Nothing. Shit. His hands were shaking, a first-class lump burgeoning on his temple. For once in his life he felt pain somewhere other than his back. Jesus Christ, he had to get to Melanie.

He finally got his seat belt off. Scrambled across the passenger seat, tried to get his feet beneath him, and fell down into the dirt. The world was turning, then spinning.

He forced himself to stand up, using the car for balance. He had his gun, so he was not helpless. Melanie was still out there, no doubt dazed and confused and vulnerable.

Time to focus, David. Time to get control.

He ripped the tie from his neck and wrapped it around his forehead. That cleared the blood from his gaze. He dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands. The sharp sensation made the world stop spinning.

David took the safety off his souped-up Beretta, thanked his father for the first time in years, and plunged into the forest.

MELANIE WAS STANDING stock-still, her heart thundering in her chest. The world had gone so quiet around them, every move, every sound exaggerated. Her godfather pinned her against his body until she could barely breathe. Her father, so close, stalked through the underbrush as if he were hunting small prey. The gun held in Harper's hands. The gun carried beneath Jamie's jacket, the bulge pressing against her ribs.

A single scene floated up in her mind.

She tripped over a tree root, sprawling to the ground. The air whooshing from her lungs. No more running. She was caught. Blood on her knees, twigs in her hair. Not even enough air left to cry.

Dada Jamie kneeling beside her, looking tired too. Funny that Dada Jamie should be the one with tears in his eyes. Brushing back her hair slowly, checking her for broken bones, examining her bloody knee.

Dada Jamie gently, so gently, picking all those nasty little rocks from her knees. Dada Jamie murmuring over and over again that it would be all right. She just needed time to adjust, then she'd realize he would never do anything to hurt her. Dada Jamie calling her his little girl.

Hating him anyway because he was keeping her from her family and she wanted to go home!

Something crashed in the underbrush right behind him. Jamie swiveled, Harper's head came up. Melanie saw both of them staring off at the sound, and then she moved.

She drove her elbow into her godfather's gut. He grimaced, tried to recover, and she stomped the inside of his foot. He was shocked enough to loosen his grip, and she pushed back with all her might. He tried to grab her arm. She ducked and burst free, making a beeline for the right, away from both men.

“Dammit!” Jamie swore.

“Melanie!” Harper cried.

Melanie lowered her head and ran harder.

And then it all happened at once. Sounds of crashing twigs and crackling branches. She thought she was moving quickly, but her godfather was already there, reaching for her shoulder. And then Harper was there, to her left, bringing up his gun.

She burst into the clearing just as gunfire erupted from the side.

She watched the bullet come right at her. And then she saw her godfather leap up. Jamie flying through the air, stretching out his whole body, staring right into her eyes, so earnest, so determined, so sad.

The bullet ripped into his back, bowing his body and sending him crashing to the ground.

Harper came into view, standing right in front of her with smoke still pouring from his gun.

“Goddammit,” he said, “that man was always in the way.”

And then he leveled his gun at his adopted daughter.

DAVID WAS CAREENING through the underbrush. Leaves tangled in his hair. Roots clawed at his feet. His vision was starting to clear, but now he found he was lost and disoriented in the woods, not sure where he'd come from or where he was going.

He found himself back at the roadside, right where he'd started, except now he was aware of banging coming from the trunk of the other car.

“Hey,” a male voice was calling. “Somebody let me out!”

David found the keys still dangling from the ignition and popped the trunk. Brian Stokes sat up.

“Are you okay?” David asked, lending him an arm to help him climb out.

Brian was fingering the bridge of his nose, which looked as if it had been attacked with a hammer. “Harper,” he mumbled. “Got a gun. Hit me.”

“He hit you? Why?”

“Didn't want me to …help Melanie. Gotta help Melanie.”

He tried to lurch forward, but he collapsed on the asphalt. “You don't understand,” he said. “Harper has to cover his tracks. Harper …has to …kill her.”

“Why? She's his daughter.”

“No, not his daughter. Jamie's daughter. Don't you see? She's Jamie's…”