THE NEXT MORNING, Mac was up at five, hoping to reach Detective Ralston as soon as he came in for the day, but it was after seven before Russ returned his call. “We’ve got him, Mac. That detective you hired is good. Based on that tip from the sister and knowledge of Thaine’s habits, he was able to locate him in a popular sushi bar in Omaha. Followed him home and the Nebraska state police made the arrest.”
“How long until he’s extradited back to Oklahoma?”
“Already done. He’s in a cell here in Tulsa now.”
“Is he talking?”
Russ gave a mirthless laugh. “He waived his right to remain silent and now he won’t shut up. From what I understand, he confessed to the arresting officers, confessed to the US marshal who transported him here and probably confessed to the guard who fed him breakfast.”
“Odd.” Thaine had been steadfast in proclaiming his innocence before he disappeared. He’d even given a couple of media interviews, playing the role of wrongly accused to perfection. Why now would he suddenly confess?
“Very odd. I’m on my way to question him in fifteen minutes.”
“Won’t his lawyer shut him down?”
“He’s waiving his right to an attorney, as well. I have a bad feeling about it all.”
“You think he’s up to something?”
“As I said, I haven’t spoken with him yet. But I have to wonder if he’s going for diminished capacity.”
“Some sort of insanity plea?”
“Possibly. Apparently he mentioned voices and avenging angels.”
Mac’s gut tightened. “Angels?” A character in one of his books had claimed to hear voices from avenging angels. Could it be a coincidence?
“We’ll get to the bottom of it. I’ve got to go now, but I’ll call you back later today and we’ll talk more, okay?”
“All right. Thanks, Russ.”
Mac ended the call and stared through the window into the darkness. It was possible, he supposed, that guilt had worried away at Thaine’s conscience, eventually leading him to confess to the crime. But he hadn’t turned himself in. His conscience seemed content to let him hide out until they caught up with him. Mac suspected Russ was right, that this sudden burst of cooperation and refusing counsel was all part of Thaine’s backup plan.
Avenging angels. If Thaine had simply said he was hearing voices, Mac would have written it off as an obvious ploy. But throw in the angels, and Mac had to wonder if it wasn’t part of a larger scheme. What was Thaine up to? Mac squared his shoulders. Whatever it was, it wasn’t going to work.
* * *
MAC TRIED TO READ, or whittle, or do something productive, but in actuality, he spent all morning and part of the afternoon pacing between the rooms of his house, waiting for the phone to ring. He’d just started a pot of coffee when Blossom jumped up and ran into the living room, tail wagging. Mac opened the front door just as Ursula raised her hand to knock. “Hi. Come on in.”
“Thanks.” She stepped inside, carrying a tote bag, and reached down to stroke Blossom’s head. “Any more news?”
“Not much. They have him in Tulsa now. Can I take your coat?”
“No, I can’t stay. Rory will be home from school soon.” She reached into the bag and pulled out a plastic container. “I just came by to bring you some of this mulligatawny soup. I figured you’d be sticking close to home, and wasn’t sure if you had food in the house.”
At the mention of soup, his stomach rumbled, reminding him he’d never eaten lunch. Ursula laughed. “I guess I have my answer.”
“I do have plenty of sandwich fixings, but this is much better. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. You’re invited for dinner tonight as well, if you like.”
“Thanks, but no. I’m feeling unsettled tonight. I wouldn’t be good company.”
“I understand. I’ll just—” Mac’s cell phone rang.
He held up a hand to ask her to wait and answered the call. “This is Mac.”
“Mr. Macleod, this is Detective Ralston.”
“Yes, Russ?”
“Do you still have the personal items recovered from the crime scene? Including a silver bracelet?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Could you please send that bracelet to me by overnight mail?”
“Why?”
“There have been some developments in the case and we need to take another look at it. Please don’t disturb it any more than necessary before you mail it.”
“Russ, what’s going on? Talk to me.”
“Mac, I’m sorry. I know this is hard.” Russ paused for a long moment, and when he spoke, he was once again using his official voice. “After interviewing the subject and examining evidence found in his residence, we believe we know how he was able to locate Andrea.”
In a flash, Mac knew. “A tracker chip. In one of the charms in the bracelet.”
“Yes.”
“A battery that small wouldn’t last more than a few days.”
“No. He must have known she was about to run.”
Or he had the means to keep the battery charged. Just like a character in one of Mac’s books. The same character that claimed he heard voices of avenging angels. The same character that managed to manipulate the system and almost get away with murder. Even though he was standing next to the woodstove, goose bumps rose on Mac’s arms. “I’ll be there tomorrow.”
“You don’t need to do that. It will be a while before this goes to trial. The bail hearing is tomorrow afternoon, but he won’t make bail. I’ve no doubt the judge will order psychological evaluation.”
“Trial? I thought you said he confessed.”
“Yeah, he did.” Russ gave a frustrated sigh. “But now he’s claiming he’s innocent, that the avenging angel took control of him.”
“I see. I’ll be there. Goodbye, Russ.” Mac ended the call and tossed his phone onto the couch. He looked up to see Ursula watching him, her eyes wide with concern. For a moment, he’d forgotten she was there.
“What is it?”
“He’s playing games. Claiming insanity.” Mac strode to the coat closet and pulled out a suitcase. “I need to be there.”
“What can you do?”
What could he do, other than deliver that bracelet which he was ninety-nine percent sure would contain a GPS tracker chip? Russ was right, if he was claiming to hear voices, Thaine would be going through psychological evaluation whether Mac was there or not. But Mac’s gut was telling him to go.
“I need to be there,” Mac repeated. He picked up his phone and pulled up an airline site. “I’ll see if I can fly tonight.”
“Book two seats.” Ursula crossed to the kitchen and placed the container of soup in the refrigerator. “I’m going with you.”
He stopped flipping through the flights and looked up. “You can’t. Rory has school. And there’s Blossom. I need to leave her with you.”
“I’m sure Catherine can stay with Rory, and she can run the B&B and keep Blossom, as well.”
Mac paused. On one hand, he wanted Ursula with him. She was a rock, and he needed that stability if he was going to keep on functioning. But if what he was starting to suspect turned out to be true, he wasn’t sure he wanted her to know. Because all of this might be his fault.
Ursula came back from the kitchen to stand in front of him. “Mac, I saw your face when you were on the phone. You don’t have to tell me what’s upsetting you if you don’t want to, but I’m not going to let you go through this alone.”
It was probably selfish to take her away from Rory, but the next few days were going to be a lot easier to get through with Ursula beside him. Besides, she didn’t look as though she was going to back down, and he didn’t have time to argue. “All right. If you can get Catherine to stay with Rory, you can come.” As he said it, he realized how ungrateful he sounded. “What I mean is, thank you. I’ll call you with the flight information.”
“That’s fine. I’d better get home. I’ll talk to Catherine and Rory and pack a bag.”
He nodded, returning to his phone, but she made no move toward the door. “Mac?”
“Yes?” He looked up.
She stepped closer and put her arms around him. Instantly, some of the weight he was feeling seemed to lift from his body. She rubbed her hands over his back and then released him. “You’re going to get through this. We’ll do it together.”
* * *
URSULA TUGGED HER roller bag around the pole in the security line at the airport. The queue was surprisingly long, considering it was almost midnight. An accident on the Seward highway had delayed them, and she was starting to get worried about missing the flight. Ahead of her, Mac stared at the wall. He’d been doing a lot of that since that phone call. Something had him rattled. Badly.
She wasn’t sure why. Of course catching his daughter’s killer would bring the memories to the forefront, but shouldn’t Mac be feeling some sense of satisfaction? He’d been working toward this goal from the beginning. But from the time he spoke with the detective on the phone, he’d withdrawn into himself. That’s why she’d insisted on coming.
Ursula had mixed feelings about this trip. Despite what she’d told Mac, she didn’t like leaving Rory in someone else’s care, even Catherine’s. But Rory had been okay with it when Ursula explained that she and Mac needed to go to Oklahoma to take care of some business about his daughter. Especially once Ursula told her they’d be leaving Blossom with her.
“I’ll take good care of her,” Rory had promised. “She can sleep with me.”
“She can sleep in her own bed,” Ursula had said, but looking at those eager eyes, she softened. “Maybe you can have her bed in your room.”
Rory had agreed, a little too quickly. Ursula suspected that before long, either Blossom would end up in Rory’s bed, or Rory on Blossom’s.
She and Mac shouldn’t be gone too long. The bail hearing was tomorrow. Mac needed to deliver a bracelet that, based on what she’d overheard on the phone, might contain a tracking chip. Mac hadn’t volunteered any more information, and she hadn’t liked to push. He was having a hard enough time without added pressure.
They reached the front of the line, and Mac stepped aside to let her go first. She presented her identification to security and walked to a conveyer belt to send her carry-on, handbag, shoes and coat through the X-ray. A moment later, Mac followed her.
At security’s direction, Ursula stepped inside a scanner and lifted her hands while the machine hummed around her. This is how a microwave casserole must feel. Once the scan was done, the guard waved her through to collect her belongings.
As soon as Mac finished his scan, he started to join her, but two guards stepped up to block his way. “Sir, please raise your hands so I can wand you.”
Mac swore under his breath as he complied. “I forgot it was in my pocket.”
Ignoring him, the guard ran a scanner up and down his body. It always beeped when it reached his pocket area. “Please remove the object.”
Mac reached inside his pocket and pulled out a pearl-handled knife. His grandfather’s knife. Ursula tried to step closer, to explain, but a guard barked at her to stay back. Another guard offered a plastic bowl, and Mac dropped the knife inside. Then he turned and trudged toward Ursula.
She laid a hand on his arm. “Is there some way to get it back when we return?”
“No.” Mac’s voice was flat. No emotion showed in his face.
“Maybe we could buy some stamps and mail it home.”
“No time to get through security again. We board in fifteen minutes.” He collected his bag, slipped on his shoes and started toward the gate, moving mechanically.
Ursula finished tying her shoe before hurrying to catch him. “Mac, wait.”
He turned back, looking mildly surprised as though he’d forgotten she was there. “Sorry.”
She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Are you okay?” Even as she asked, she realized what a ridiculous question it was. He was anything but okay.
Still, he managed a tight smile for her. “I’m fine. We need to hurry.”
They passed an airport bookstore on the way. On the table in front, a pyramid of Mac’s latest title anchored the display. He glanced at it and looked away. They reached the gate, where they found a pair of unoccupied seats. Across from them, a young girl with sleepy eyes leaned against her father’s shoulder. An older boy played with a handheld toy of some sort, while his mother typed something into her phone. A few rows away, a news program flashed pictures of a crowd of protesters on the television screen hanging from the ceiling.
The airline employee announced that they would begin boarding soon. Ursula stood to stretch. Suddenly, a publicity photo of Mac flashed on the television screen.
Mac’s image was replaced with Andi’s smiling face. It was a snapshot, taken outside at what looked like a city park. The hand pushing her hair back from her face sported a charm bracelet—the same one Mac was delivering to the police. Closed caption ran across the bottom of the screen, but Ursula couldn’t take her eyes off that face. Young, happy, with every expectation of a long life ahead of her. The picture changed, to a video of someone in an orange jumpsuit and handcuffs being led from a police car.
A woman a few seats down nudged her husband and pointed toward the screen. “They caught the guy that murdered that poor girl.”
“Her dad was rich, right? Probably wouldn’t pay the ransom.”
“No, it was her boyfriend who killed her. Remember? They think she was running away from him.”
Ursula looked back at Mac. He was watching the screen, his face like stone. Thankfully, no one around them seemed to have recognized him. The call went out for preboarding, and everyone began gathering their belongings rather than paying attention to the television. The news cut to a bus crash somewhere in the world.
Their boarding call went out. Mac still sat, his eyes focused on something far away from the airport terminal. Ursula put her hand on his shoulder. “Are you ready?”
He blinked and turned his gaze toward her. “Ready?”
“To board the plane. They just called us.”
“Oh. Yes, I’m ready. Let’s go.”
* * *
URSULA SMOTHERED A yawn as the taxi wound its way through traffic. The six-hour flight from Anchorage to Dallas/Ft. Worth had been uneventful, but she could never sleep on airplanes. As far as she could tell, Mac hadn’t slept either. Their layover had been just long enough for a cup of coffee and a muffin before the flight to Tulsa. Now they were on their way to Mac’s house.
The taxi turned into a neighborhood of tall brick houses on large lots with mature trees. They pulled into a circular drive edged with boxwood and stopped in front of the pillared porch of an expansive redbrick home with a steep slate roof.
Mac paid off the taxi and unlocked the front door. “Just leave your suitcase here. I’ll carry it up later.”
“All right.” Ursula took in the polished wood paneling in the entryway and the warm tones of the Oriental rug on the floor. A far cry from how he’d been living in Alaska. “Your home is lovely.”
Mac grunted thanks and led her through a formal dining room to a kitchen, which opened into a family room and another dining area. The combined space of the three rooms was probably more than Mac’s entire cabin in Alaska. A bowl of fruit and a piece of paper rested on the acre of polished granite that topped the kitchen island.
Mac opened a cabinet door and pulled out a bag of coffee. Ursula picked up the note. “Someone named Joan says she stocked the refrigerator.”
“My housekeeper.” Mac spooned coffee beans into a stainless-steel coffee machine of the type Ursula had seen advertised in upscale catalogs.
She crossed to the refrigerator. Eggs, milk, vegetables. Oh, and Mac’s pickles. “Looks like she left a casserole, too. That was kind of her.”
“She’s a kind woman. She’s been with me for, let’s see, fifteen years.” Mac started the machine and let it finish grinding the beans before continuing. “She was crazy about Andi. Always trying to fix her up with her son. He’s a good kid. Smart, hard worker. Unfortunately, they never seemed to be unattached at the same time. I just wish...” He trailed off, but of course Ursula knew what he meant. If only Andi had been involved with his housekeeper’s son instead of Joel Thaine, she’d be alive now.
“What would you like for lunch? Looks like there’s deli meat and cheese, or I could scramble eggs.”
Mac checked his watch. “I don’t want to be late for the bail hearing.”
“We have two hours. You need to eat. All you’ve had since yesterday is a bran muffin.” And he’d tossed most of that away, uneaten. The last thing he needed was more coffee on an empty stomach. She played her trump card, knowing it was the only way to get him to take care of himself. “I’m hungry.”
“Go ahead, then, and put together whatever you want for lunch.”
She managed to get him to sit down long enough to eat a turkey sandwich, but the second she took the last bite of hers, he was sweeping the plates to the sink and reaching into a drawer for keys. “Let’s go.”
He led her out the back door and across a covered patio toward a detached garage made of brick that matched the house. A wide lawn swept across the yard, dappled with shade from old oaks and edged with shrubby mixed borders. Across the yard, something glinted in the sun.
Mac frowned. “A photographer in the alley. If you don’t want your picture on the news, you may want to shield your face.”
Ursula held up a hand to shade her eyes and looked toward the fence in the far corner. Sure enough, a telephoto lens was trained toward them. How bizarre. She quickly turned away and hurried after Mac to the garage where he ushered her into a car. When they raised the door and drove out, someone was there, snapping pictures. She could certainly understand why Mac had fled to Alaska.
She waited in the car while Mac ran into the police station to drop off the bracelet, and then they drove on to the courthouse. Mac parked in the lot across the street. As they walked closer to the imposing building, Mac’s posture grew stiffer. He couldn’t have been more on edge if it were his own trial he was attending. Ursula reached for his hand. “Hey, are you okay?”
He stopped, closed his eyes, and sucked in a long breath. After a moment, he blew it out and gave her a soft smile. “I am.” He squeezed her hand. “Thanks to you.”
* * *
MAC CHECKED HIS watch again. This hearing should have started ten minutes ago, but there was no sign of judge or defendant. It was a good thing they’d arrived early, because the courtroom was packed, mostly with reporters. A couple of them looked his way, but with Thaine’s capture, Mac was no longer their main focus.
One woman who had been particularly persistent in trying to schedule an interview with him kept staring at Ursula, no doubt trying to place her. He felt bad about dragging Ursula into this circus, but she’d insisted on coming, and truth be known, he was glad she had. It was reassuring that at least one person in this room was not here out of curiosity or to bump their ratings, but to support him.
The side door opened at the front of the room, and a group of people in suits came in and settled in at the table on the right. A few minutes later, the door opened again, and Joel Thaine walked through, accompanied by a guard.
Mac’s stomach clenched. He studied Thaine’s face, trying to decide what could be going on in that dangerous mind, but at the moment, Thaine only looked mildly confused until the bailiff directed him to the table on the left. He sat alone, shuffling through some papers.
A few minutes later, another door opened and the bailiff instructed everyone to stand for the judge. A middle-aged woman wearing judicial robes sat behind the bench, and the onlookers sat again.
It seemed to happen quickly. After some lawyerly talk, the judge asked Thaine why he had refused counsel. His reply, about being innocent because he’d been led by an angel, seemed to flow too easily, as if he’d rehearsed it many times. The judge asked more questions, and Thaine answered, his voice revealing little emotion. After several more probing questions that elicited the same bland responses, the judge remanded him for psychiatric evaluation.
As Thaine stood to leave, he looked for the first time over the bar at the reporters madly scribbling notes. His expression remained neutral, but there was a sparkle of excitement in his eyes. He was clearly feeding off the attention. His gaze traveled to the end of the row where Mac was sitting, and stopped as recognition dawned.
Mac locked eyes with him, and he didn’t look away. Thaine’s expression revealed no sign of either remorse or guilt, just barely disguised smugness. He gave a little smirk before he allowed the guard to lead him away.
Ursula touched Mac’s hand, and he turned to her. “Did you see that?” he whispered. “He knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s all a game to him.”
“I saw.” But her look of concern seemed more focused on Mac than on the situation. She glanced around. “Let’s go before some of these reporters decide to ambush you.”
As they filed from the courtroom, Russ met him at the door. “Mac.” He gestured toward an unoccupied corner. Mac nodded and put a hand on Ursula’s back to guide her away from the crowd. Russ flashed a questioning look at Ursula before addressing Mac. “Thanks for bringing that charm bracelet.”
“No problem. This is Ursula Anderson, from Alaska. Ursula, Detective Russ Ralston. I’ve known Russ for years. His daughter Bailey and Andi were in school together.”
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Anderson.” Russ shook her hand and turned to Mac. “Bailey’s in Japan now. She wanted me to tell you you’re in her prayers.”
“Thank her for me.” Enough small talk. “Were you in there?” Mac gestured toward the courtroom.
“Yes. It went pretty much the way we thought it would.”
“You know he’s faking.”
Russ shrugged. “Then let’s hope the psychologists can figure it out.”
“Did you find a chip?”
“Not yet, but the lab is doing a rush job for me. They should have some information for me later today. Can you come to my office at, say, four thirty?”
“Couldn’t you just call?” Ursula suggested.
Mac shook his head. It wasn’t just about the chip. He knew, from the way Russ wasn’t meeting his eyes, there was bad news yet to come. “I’ll be there,” he assured Russ.
They made their way downstairs and across the lobby of the courthouse. One reporter made a halfhearted attempt to collect a sound bite, but he accepted Mac’s “no comment” without argument. They walked to the car, and Mac started home.
He stopped at a red light and looked toward Ursula. He wanted her take on this. “Well, you heard him talk. You saw the way he looked at me. Do you think he’s faking?”
“I’m no mental health expert, but I’m glad he’ll be locked up, one way or the other.” Ursula shuddered. “The way he spoke—to be so matter-of-fact about such a shocking crime—scared me. He’s dangerous. Of that I have no doubt.”
The light changed and Mac pulled forward. She hadn’t exactly answered his question, but as usual she’d gotten to the heart of the matter. Thaine was dangerous. But he was going to spend the rest of his life in jail. Mac would see to that. He’d let Andi down, hadn’t protected her, but he was going to make sure her killer paid his debt to society.
Ursula yawned, and although she tried to cover it up, Mac knew she must be exhausted after flying all night. He probably shouldn’t have brought her, for her sake as well as Rory’s, but it meant more than he could say to have her there beside him in court today. Everything was easier knowing that someone cared about him, cared for him. That he wasn’t alone. Just as he’d supported Ursula through the custody challenge, she was there to support him now. It was a good feeling.
Still, he wasn’t sure he wanted her at this upcoming meeting. There was something Russ dreaded telling him or showing him, and if it was that distasteful to a seasoned cop, Mac didn’t want Ursula exposed to it.
Once they reached the house, he picked up her suitcase from the entryway where she’d left it. “Let me show you to your room.” He carried the bag upstairs to the guest room he’d asked Joan to prepare. Sure enough, the curtains were open and cool spring sunlight streamed through the windows and fell on the pillows resting against the cherry headboard.
Mac set Ursula’s bag on the bench at the foot of the bed. “There should be fresh towels in the bathroom. Why don’t you have a nap before dinner?”
She plumped one of the pillows, clearly tempted. “Do I have time before we need to leave for your meeting?”
“You were up all night. Get some sleep. You don’t need to be at this meeting.”
“You have to be as exhausted as I am.”
He supposed he was, but he was too wound up to sleep. “I’m fine. You rest.”
She studied his face. “Are you sure you don’t need me?” He had no doubt that she would forgo sleep for as long as it took if she thought she could help him. But it wasn’t necessary.
He opened his arms. “Come here.” He held her close, and it seemed as though her calming energy flowed into him. “I need you. But you don’t have to be at this meeting. It’s enough to know you’ll be here when I get home.”
And it was true. Whatever the news Russ had to share, Ursula would be there to lighten the load. And they’d get through it, whatever happened.
She smiled up at him, and he brushed a kiss across her forehead.
“Sleep tight, darlin’. I’m glad you’re here.”
* * *
RUSS WAS SHUFFLING through some papers when Mac stepped into his office, but quickly stuffed them inside a folder and closed it. “Thanks for coming in. Decided not to bring your friend along?” He indicated a chair.
Mac sat down. “She was tired. Took the red-eye from Anchorage last night. Did they find a chip in one of the charms?”
“Yes, in the heart. The battery was dead, of course, but it was a GPS tracking chip. A fairly expensive model, but easily obtained over the internet.”
A sense of déjà vu ran a cold hand down Mac’s spine. “You say the battery was dead.”
“Yes.” Russ met his gaze as though willing him to make the connection. “The battery life of a tracking chip with a transmitter that small is only a few days.”
“But you found a miniature charging pack in the charm, too, didn’t you? And a charging mat on a tray in Andi’s apartment. The tray next to her bed where she would put her cell phone to charge before she went to bed. And she’d put her bracelet in the tray, as well.”
“You remember seeing the mat?”
“No.” Mac swallowed. “I wrote about it. In a book about five years ago. It was new technology then, but now it’s commonly available.” The transmitter in a piece of jewelry. The charging mat. It might still be a coincidence, but it wasn’t likely.
“We didn’t find a charging mat when we took photos of the apartment after Andi went missing.”
“No?” Maybe Mac was wrong.
“No. I suspect Thaine got rid of it. But yes, we found the charging pack in the charm, and when we searched his apartment in Omaha, we found this.” Russ reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a plastic bag. Inside was a familiar book, the design on the dust jacket worn and faded.
Mac’s heart stopped, and then began beating wildly. “You found this with his things?”
“Yes.”
“May I see it?”
Russ paused for a moment before he nodded. “It’s evidence. Here. Wear gloves.”
Mac pulled on the rubber gloves and removed the book from the bag. It fell open to a page toward the middle. A section had been highlighted, detailing how the antagonist had arranged for one of his victims to have received a charging mat for her cell phone as a gift, to recharge the tracking chip he’d hidden inside her favorite necklace.
Mac flipped back a couple of chapters to find other highlighted sentences and phrases, all in the scenes told from the antagonist’s point of view as he made his plans. And then Mac found the section he was dreading. Yellow highlighter taunted him.
“Do you have the autopsy report?” He knew Andi had died of strangulation, but he’d never known the details. Never wanted to know. Until now.
“Mac, you don’t need to see that.”
“I think I do.” He had to confirm the depth of his guilt.
“I’m not sure I have it here.” Russ pretended to shuffle through the papers.
“Just tell me. She died like this, didn’t she?” Like the victim in the story, whose killer had taunted her by tightening the garrote around her neck until she passed out, and then loosened it to allow her to regain consciousness so that he could make her beg for her life. He would pretend to consider letting her go, and then change his mind, over and over, before he finally killed her. A cat, playing with a mouse.
Russ didn’t answer.
Mac stared into his eyes. “Didn’t she?”
Slowly, Russ nodded. “The report is consistent with that scenario.”
Mac closed the book. The shadowy figure on the cover blurred and quivered. Mac closed his eyes and waited until he gained control and his eyes could focus once more. He opened the cover and checked the flyleaf.
To Andi. All my love, Dad.
* * *
URSULA WOKE TO a birdsong alarm app Rory had downloaded onto her phone. They’d made a guessing game out of identifying the different birds. Rory had recognized the robins, chickadees and waxwings right away, but she’d never heard the soft coo of the mourning dove, so common in Wyoming where Ursula had grown up. Here in Tulsa, a meadowlark was singing outside her window. She’d have to try to record it for Rory.
The nap had done wonders for Ursula’s energy and peace of mind. She’d been worried. Worried that being in court and actually seeing the face of the man who had taken his daughter’s life would pull Mac into that dark place he’d inhabited when she first met him. He was hurting, she could sense that, but that hug had reassured her. He wasn’t isolating himself. He was willing to let her help him. To let her love him.
And she did love him. She’d been hedging, not admitting it even to herself, but she couldn’t pretend anymore. Somewhere around four in the morning last night, unable to sleep on the plane, she’d shifted in her seat and looked over to find Mac watching her. He’d reached for her hand, and the instant they connected, she’d felt better, stronger, and she’d known she couldn’t deny it any longer.
No parent should have to go through what Mac had. To lose a child for any reason was an unthinkable tragedy, but for someone to have stolen her life away for his own twisted reasons was too much to bear. But Mac had to bear it, and she would do everything she could to help him get through it.
She checked the time. Rory should just be getting home from school. She called the inn and spoke with Catherine for a few minutes. Catherine assured her everything was under control and called Rory to the phone. “Ursula!”
“Hi, sweetie. How was school today?”
“Good. For science, we’re growing worms. They eat paper.”
“Really? Where are these worms?”
“They’re in a box of dirt. We keep them under the art table.”
“Cool.”
“Are you in Oklahoma now? Is it snowy?”
“No, it’s spring here. I saw daffodils blooming. Are you and Blossom being good for Catherine?”
Rory giggled. “We are but Van Gogh isn’t. Catherine says she was eating lunch and had to stop and answer the door. When she got back her sandwich was gone and he was lying on the chair pretending he was asleep.”
“Maybe it was Blossom.”
“No, she was in my room.”
“Did she sleep in your bed?”
“Uh, just part of the night. Is Mac there?”
Nice misdirection. “Not right now. Do you want me to tell him anything for you?”
“Just say hi, and that I’m taking good care of Blossom.”
“Okay, I’ll tell him. I love you, sweetie.”
“I love you, too. Bye.”
Ursula smiled as she hung up the phone. Mac still wasn’t back, so she took advantage of the groceries Joan had left to make a salad to go with dinner. She was bent over the oven, sliding in the casserole dish, when the back door opened.
“I’m just putting in the casserole. It should be ready in half an hour.” Ursula turned and stopped at the expression on Mac’s face. He seemed to be in shock.
“What is it?”
He didn’t answer, just shook his head.
She stepped closer and laid a hand on his arm. “Mac? Tell me.”
“They took some of his things as evidence.”
“Yes?”
“There was a book. My book. One I wrote several years ago. It was a copy I’d given to Andi.”
“What about it?”
“Don’t you see? He was using it. Highlighting the passages the killer in the book used to control his victims. The GPS chip in the bracelet? In the book, it was a necklace. That’s how he found her, when she ran away.”
She brought her hand to her mouth. “Oh, Mac.”
“And then he killed her. He tortured her. Just like the killer in the book.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s my fault.”
“It’s not.”
“Sure it is. I dreamed up all those nightmares.”
“That doesn’t make it your fault.” She had to make him understand that.
“I gave him the blueprint. I might as well have killed her myself.”
“Don’t do this, Mac. Don’t let guilt drag you down again. You’re not to blame.” Ursula put her arms around him.
He stood stiffly, not responding. Soon, she reached up to take his face between her hands. “Mac. Look at me. I love you. Don’t let this come between us.”
He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I don’t deserve your love.”
“Yes, you do. You’re a wonderful person. Kind. Talented. And patient with little girls who like to play cards. Rory says hi, by the way, and that she’s taking good care of Blossom for you.”
“Rory’s better off without me.”
“How can you say that? She adores you.”
He shook his head. “Every relationship I have eventually ends in tragedy. I had no business getting involved with you and Rory.” He pushed her hands away from his face. “We’re done here. I’ll make reservations to fly back to Alaska tomorrow. Thank you for making dinner, but I’m not hungry. Good night.”
He turned and started for the stairs. She almost ran after him, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good. The darkness they’d been fighting had returned. And it was winning.