In the sleek new kitchen Kate dabbed a wet paper towel on Claire’s cheek. “Thank the Lord it’s superficial. I don’t even think it will leave a scar. Hold that against the cut.”
While Claire pressed the towel against her cheek, Kate peered out the window into the dusk-shrouded backyard. Luke, gun out and at the ready, crept around the edge of the house. In his other hand he held his cell phone to his ear, and she exhaled. He must be calling for help.
She looked out over the new back deck, elegantly furnished in blue and white. As Claire had said, everything was ready for the wedding, but would it even be safe to hold it out in the open? Kate had a sinking feeling she might know who had shot that arrow.
Claire tossed the paper towel into the cabinet trash can. “It’s stopped bleeding. You think it was an accident?” Her face was a little pale, and the mark on her cheek looked like a faint scratch now.
Kate turned and raised a brow. “Only an idiot would aim a bolt toward a house.”
“Maybe it was a kid with his first crossbow, and he lost control.”
It made for a nice explanation, but still staring at the line of trees behind the house, Kate shook her head. “I think it was Uncle Paul.”
Claire’s eyes widened, and she took a step back. “Why would you say that?”
“His favorite weapon is a crossbow. It’s how he has taken down every deer and moose he’s brought home to the freezer.” Kate shivered and hugged herself. “The thing is, if he wanted to hit you, he would have. So what’s his game? Is he just trying to terrify you to get back at you for him being sent to prison?”
“Maybe he stumbled and missed. Or was startled.” Claire grabbed the cherry-red teakettle and filled it with water, then put it on the induction cooktop. “I need some tea. Want some?”
“Sure. I’ll try to get my breathing back in order.” The back of her neck still prickled, and Kate rubbed it.
The back door opened, and Luke stepped inside, bringing the fresh scent of the outdoors with him. “Whoever it was, he’s gone now.” His gaze went to Claire, and he winced when she turned enough to show the mark on her cheek. “Let me see.” He stepped closer and moved her into the wash of light from the ceiling globe. “I don’t think it needs stitches.” He brushed a kiss on top of her head. “Does it hurt?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine. Did you call the sheriff?”
He nodded. “Kevin is closer though, and he’s on his way.” He glanced at Kate. “I saw where the guy was standing. The grass is matted down across the road in a stand of ash trees. It looks like he hiked in. I didn’t hear any motor vehicles.”
“She thinks it was Paul.” The teakettle shrieked, and Claire moved to lift it from the heat.
Luke stared at Kate and took a notepad from his pocket. “You think Paul got out and came here for revenge?”
“I don’t know what his plan is, but remember Daryl in The Walking Dead? That’s my Uncle Paul. He’s deadly with that crossbow, and he knows these woods better than most people know their bedrooms.”
“But you don’t know it’s Paul,” Luke said. She stared back at him and said nothing until he shrugged. “Okay, I get it. You know him better than I do, and you’re sure. But Kevin will be here shortly and we have no proof.”
“He hung out at this old house a lot when he was hunting. You found that mattress on the floor in the downstairs bedroom, remember? He probably didn’t know you’d taken it over since he’s been in prison. It might have ticked him off when he saw Claire on the porch and realized the house was hers.” Kate accepted the hot mug of tea Claire handed her. “I don’t know what he was thinking. I need to find him. He’ll talk to me.”
At least she thought he would. They’d always been close. He’d been the only real father figure she had, and he’d taken her fishing and hunting more times than she could count. He’d comforted her when her mother was too harsh and remote, which was most of the time. She was certain of his love even though his actions had shaken her faith in all she thought she knew about family.
Surely there was some good left in her uncle. He could have killed Claire today, and he didn’t.
Claire pulled out a chair at the chunky farm table. “How can you track him down?”
“I know his haunts. And maybe he’ll call me or come by the cottage.”
“Won’t he be afraid the law has your place staked out?” Luke asked.
Kate pulled out a chair beside Claire and sat. The thought of seeing Paul hauled off to jail again tightened her throat. And what if someone shot him right in front of her? He was still her uncle, part of her. She didn’t want him hurt. “I’ll have to see if I can find him.”
But where? Wait, he’d had a new girlfriend. What was her name? It didn’t come to her right now, but it would. Maybe he’d gone there.
* * *
The distant roar of the waves expending themselves on the rocky shore added to Drake’s turmoil as he watched the girls throw bread to the gulls. The birds fought viciously for their crumbs and pecked at any other gull that dared to try to snag a piece of their treasure. The girls laughed at the birds, then tossed them more bread to fight over.
“Kind of like people, aren’t they?” The wind tugged at Dixie’s hair bun and had put a hint of pink in her weathered cheeks. She was barefoot on the cold sand, and her legs beneath the rolled-up denim overalls looked cold and chapped.
He frowned down at his aunt. “I’m not tracking with you.”
“Everyone’s natural inclination is to get all they can and can all they get. They never think about other people until they’re taught about compassion and caring.”
“You think I should hire Kate Mason, don’t you? But she grabbed those iPads right out of the girls’ hands. I thought that was a little bold. They’ve been through a lot.” He’d tossed and turned a lot last night and awakened with the decision to find someone sweeter and gentler.
She shrugged and tugged her camo jacket a little tighter around her shoulders. “That’s life. And if we give them a pass for every bump in the road, they’ll turn out just like so many self-absorbed teenagers you see every day. You want that for them?”
“I don’t call losing both parents a ‘bump in the road.’ ” Not many kids had to face that kind of heartbreak. He wanted to see Phoebe sleep without a lamp on again. He’d give up every cent in his hefty bank account to hear Emma laugh again.
His throat tightened, and he looked out to sea where a large yacht scooted past the rocks. Heath had loved sailing. They’d spent many happy hours on their family boat when they were growing up.
Sometimes the pain of his brother’s loss was too much to bear. He had to find out what happened or he’d never have peace.
His aunt touched his arm. “I’m not saying it wasn’t a tragic, horrible event, Drake. But if you’re not careful, you’ll ruin those girls. Do you think Heath would have wanted that?”
He shook his head. “He was always strict with them and insisted on good manners. He started taking them to soup kitchens as soon as they were born, and every Christmas they took loads of presents to homeless people in Boston.”
“Then don’t mess up now, kiddo. Take a firmer hand with them. It doesn’t mean you don’t love them. In fact, it means you love them enough to train them for living a productive life.”
He studied her rugged face. She’d always been a no-nonsense sort of woman, and she made a lot of sense now. “Maybe you’re right. I’m just not sure about Kate.”
She wagged a finger at him. “That girl’s had a tornado of events in her life, and she’s emerged still kicking. You want a strong mother figure for them, someone whose strength the girls can emulate.”
He held up a hand. “Whoa, mother figure? No nanny will take Melissa’s place.”
“Of course not. I should have said role model. That suit you better?”
“It’s just for six weeks. I hardly think Kate or anyone else would have that big of an impact in such a short time.”
“You’d be surprised.” Her voice was soft, and she turned to look out at the water.
He counted back to how many days in total he’d been around his aunt and realized it wasn’t a whole lot more than that. He and Heath had come here for a week every summer starting when they were ten and until they were eighteen, and then a weekend here and there after they’d grown up. Maybe a total of sixty-six or seventy days. It wasn’t much more than the forty-five or so days a nanny would be with the girls. The impact Dixie had on him had been profound.
He studied the topknot on her head and the sag of her shoulders. She’d been widowed when she was twenty-five and never had children, but that was about all he knew. “Why didn’t you ever remarry?”
When she turned around to face him, a tiny smile lifted her lips. “I’m a slow bloomer, but I’m working on it. Walker Rocco didn’t work out, but there are still fish in the sea.”
“You’re seeing someone now?”
“Drake Newham, I might be old, but I’m not dead.” Her penciled-in brows were drawn together, and she folded her arms across her ample bosom.
He knew from her steely tone that his aunt wasn’t about to give him any more personal information. “All right, I’ll hire her. But if it ends up poorly, it’s all your fault.”
Her grin up at him held a triumphal gleam. “I think my shoulders can bear the burden.”
“I love you, Aunt Dixie.” Slinging his arm around her, he motioned for the girls with his free arm. “Dinnertime.”
Seeing Kate’s pretty face every day wouldn’t be a trial, but he wasn’t sure it was enough to compensate for her take-no-prisoners approach with his nieces.