Catherine roamed the hospital halls in a fog. She couldn’t push Garrett out of her mind, or the uncertainty about her uncle’s status. How could she get Orson back only to lose him? And how had she allowed herself to fall for a man who could send her uncle to jail if he survived? Her uncle had only been trying to protect his nieces. Wasn’t there some leniency due?
Though she didn’t remember buying it, somehow she had a cup of bitter coffee in her aching fingers. The sharp taste revived her somewhat and the walk at least soothed her muscles. She headed back to her uncle’s room to check on him again. Her stomach dropped when she saw Tom Rudden leaning over the bed.
She rushed in. “What are you doing?”
He jerked around. “The hospital called Linda about the heart attack. I told her I’d check on him.”
“Why? You don’t have any affection for my uncle and neither does Linda.”
He shrugged. “I’ve worked for Orson for more than a decade. Just checking in, like I said.” He edged around her.
Checking in? No way did she believe that. She thought about her uncle’s comment that Rudden had no scruples, yet he’d worked for Orson for a decade. A thought occurred to her. “Did you do any work for my uncle besides security?”
Rudden paused. “I took care of business for him and the people he loved. That’s all.”
What was he trying not to say? Before she had a chance to ask, he hurried off.
She brushed a finger across her uncle’s cheek. Business for him and the people he loved. Orson had always been their life preserver. Without him, she and Antonia would have crumbled after their father’s murder. But there were things about her uncle she didn’t know, that much was certain. And Rudden was hiding something.
She leaned over, examining his lined face before she kissed him on the cheek. “I love you, Uncle Orson. No matter what.”
Hours later, assured that the hospital would alert her at the slightest change, Catherine lugged her backpack into the grand front foyer of her uncle’s house. She’d gained access using the key he’d given her years before. The rain had returned, making the afternoon gloomier, or maybe it was the mess in her heart coloring the world around her.
Uncle Orson was stable and that’s about the best that could be said of the prognosis. The heart attack had caused some damage, which they were striving to reverse, but he was still not conscious. At least he’d given her permission to stay in the house before he’d been stricken. She might as well live publicly as Catherine Hart. There was no longer any protection from Stone or the wagging town tongues in an illegally provided alias.
So here you are, Catherine. Left to manage things on your own.
Her decision, though, wasn’t it? Her stomach flipped when she considered how she’d cut down Garrett at the hospital. It hadn’t been fair, of course, but a wound had ripped open when she felt her uncle threatened and she’d lashed out. She’d apologize, but their relationship would not return to what it had been. The wounds would take time to heal, if they ever did, and it felt awfully like she was back at square one. Fear and grief, loneliness and pain.
She made sure to lock the door behind her before dumping her pack on the sofa. The living room was spotless and stuffy, showing no clue of the previous violence. Just a few days ago Stone had pushed his way onto the property and abducted her uncle. The thought made her go cold all over. Tea. A nice steamy cup of tea would chase her chill away. Pattering to the kitchen, she stopped suddenly before pushing through the swinging door.
Talking?
Someone was in the kitchen of her uncle’s house. Could Antonia have returned? There hadn’t been any cars parked in the drive.
Heart thumping, she picked up a vase from the coffee table in case it wasn’t her sister and eased the door open.
Linda was stirring a cup of coffee with one hand, her cell on speakerphone on the table.
“We have plenty of time,” she said.
It was Rudden who answered. “You never know with heart attacks.”
Linda looked up and they locked gazes.
Linda squeaked, shoving her hand to her chest. “You scared me.”
“What are you doing here?” Catherine said. “I didn’t see your car.”
Linda spoke into her phone. “I’ll call you back.” She disconnected. “In answer to your question, this is my house, legally, not yours, and Tom dropped me off.”
“I thought you’d moved out. And Uncle Orson said I could stay here.”
“Before or after he had the heart attack?” She glared. “Like I said, I’m legally his spouse, so I’m kept informed.”
Catherine closed her eyes, struggling for control. When she opened them, she was startled to see Linda watching her with a touch of compassion.
“Look, Catherine,” she said with a sigh, “let’s start over. I always respected you for telling Orson you didn’t need a monthly stipend. It showed character and backbone. I admire a backbone in anyone. We don’t have to be enemies. There’s plenty of room in the house and I’m not staying over anyway. I only came to pack up some of my books from the study. I’ll be another couple of hours, tops, so we can coexist for that long.”
She’d hoped she’d be fortunate enough not to cross paths with Linda while the woman was scavenging her uncle’s belongings. Was Linda being agreeable to trick her? Had she been plotting with Rudden before she’d been interrupted? Perspiration beaded on Catherine’s brow as she remembered Rudden hovering over her uncle’s bed. Was it even safe for her to stay?
Linda was already done with the conversation. She picked up a cardboard box and walked away to the study. Catherine scurried to the downstairs guest room and locked herself in. She had her cell phone, and she was safe behind a sturdy oak door. There was no immediate threat. She thought about texting Garrett to tell him about Linda’s presence. The idea touched off a cascade of prickly emotions.
She’d made it clear she didn’t want him around. It wasn’t fair to send him mixed messages as if he was a bodyguard at her beck and call. She’d dug a hole and now she’d lie in it, at least until morning.
Fortunately, the guest room was well appointed with its own en suite bathroom, so she treated herself to a hot shower. Stomach growling, she ate the granola bars from the supply Garrett had insisted she pack for their wilderness search. For the millionth time, she wondered about her sister. Where was she? Would she ever give up her self-appointed quest? The hours ticked slowly by and she did not hear any sounds that Linda had left.
The hospital had no updates when she called. Antonia didn’t respond to any of her messages either. Sleep, she figured, would be elusive, but she lay down anyway on the soft mattress. The events of the day pressed upon her until she felt her eyelids grow heavy...
With a lurch, she blinked awake. The bedside clock read 7:15 p.m. She fought off the stupor. Way to stay alert, Cath. A rustling sound yanked her to a sitting position. What had she heard? She hurried to the window and eased the curtain aside. The view revealed a darkened slice of the side yard, heavy with bushes, pools of landscape lighting painting the foliage silver.
A shadow glided along and she froze until it came closer and she realized it was an animal, a dog. Not just any dog. Pinkerton’s ungainly form trotted from bush to bush, nose fixed to the ground, leash trailing behind him in the grass. How had he gotten there? And where was Garrett? He would never have left Pinky wandering. Worry wormed deep into her gut. Had he been hurt somehow?
Breath constricted, she jammed her feet into shoes, unlocked the bedroom door and hurried down the hallway to the exit that took her out into the side yard. The evening was hushed, her own feet sounding loud as she jogged over the grass.
“Pinky?” she said, half whisper, half yell.
She heard Pinky whine. When she caught up, he was standing still, staring toward the low stone retaining wall that separated the side yard from the broad sweep of gardens at the rear of the house.
“Pinky,” she said again. He didn’t even glance at her, completely fixated on whatever he was tracking. Could Garrett be prowling the property? She reached the dog, kneeled and put an arm around his quivering sides. He stiffened and the hair on his scruff went up. She heard it too. Footsteps from beyond the retaining wall. Coming closer.
Garrett? But Pinky would not be reacting so strangely if it was his partner.
She suddenly realized how foolish she’d been, leaving the protection of the house. She could have texted Garrett, called him to solve the mystery. Instead she was outside, alone.
She tried to coax Pinky away, but he was immobile.
The footsteps stopped. Her heart hammered when they started up again, moving in her direction. She grabbed Pinky’s leash and hauled with all her strength to drag the heavy dog away from the intruder. Finally, Pinky seemed to come to his senses and sped after her until they were steps away from the door. She’d get him inside. Figure it out. Find Garrett. If she couldn’t, she’d call Steph or Chase. She reached for the door when someone touched her arm.
With a yelp, she whirled to find Garrett, wide-eyed.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered.
“Tell you later. What’s wrong?”
“I found Pinky wandering and I went to get him. There’s someone in the yard behind the stone wall.”
Garrett collected Pinky’s leash and opened the door to the house. “I’ll check it out. You wait inside.” He escorted her in.
“Linda’s here, or at least she was. I’m not sure now.”
“Okay, I’ll—”
A woman’s scream pierced the air. Pinky yanked free from Catherine’s hand and bolted into the hallway. Instinctively she ran after him.
“No,” Garrett yelled.
Her common sense returned as they neared the front door. She slowed. Garrett snagged her wrist. Pinky sped ahead and disappeared in the direction of her uncle’s study.
“Go outside to my car,” Garrett insisted. “Call nine-one-one.”
She was reaching for the front door when it crashed open. Tom Rudden stood on the threshold. “I heard a scream. What was that? Linda called me to pick her up.”
A gunshot exploded from the end of the hallway. She cried out, felt Garrett’s hands propelling her from the house. Before she’d cleared the threshold, Linda appeared in the study doorway and stepped into the hall. Her mouth was open, hand pressed to her red shirt. Pinky whined and circled her, trying to paw her thigh.
“Linda?” Rudden called. “Are you okay?”
Catherine thought Linda was going to say something, until her head tipped back and she collapsed. With a flash of nausea, Catherine realized it wasn’t a red shirt Linda was wearing, but a white one, saturated with blood from the bullet wound in her chest.
Garrett made sure Catherine was locked in his car with Pinky and calling 911 before he returned to the house. Rudden refused to leave Linda’s side and there wasn’t much he could do about that since he wasn’t law enforcement.
He made double sure the shooter was gone before he attempted first aid. Linda was clearly already dead, Rudden mumbling over her incoherently, but Garrett snagged a blanket and ordered Rudden to apply it to her wound anyway, in case he was wrong. If nothing else, it would keep Rudden occupied.
He returned to the study to examine the scene, staying in the doorway to take photos. The French doors were open, windblown rain spattering the hardwood floor. The shooter had gone in and out that way, likely. Wouldn’t have been hard to force the lock, if it had actually been secured. The killer had probably chosen the French doors in the garden because they’d be concealed from sight. A carved wooden box, the size of a bread loaf, had tumbled open on the floor. He surmised it had been kept in the small cubbyhole, partially obscured by the ottoman, which had been knocked over. He dialed Stephanie.
“Is the scene secure?” she demanded.
“Shooter’s gone,” he answered, then reported on Rudden and Catherine.
Steph blew out a breath. “Why Linda?”
“Dunno. Could be a robbery. There’s a box dumped on the floor that is the right size for a stash of bills.”
“This doesn’t feel like a random robbery.”
“To me either. We surmised it was Rudden and Linda in on a plan to steal from Orson, but now...”
“Maybe it was Linda and Stone working together and he double-crossed her,” Steph said. “Or he came for his payment and she didn’t deliver to his satisfaction.”
“As good a theory as any.”
“Okay, brother of mine. You’re not convinced. I can hear it. Why?”
“There’s something here that I’m missing. Nothing concrete...just this bell clanging in my brain.”
“Keep working it. I’ll update everyone and see what I can glean from the police radio.”
He disconnected and stood quietly with Rudden, silently praying for Linda. There had been too much blood already. After checking on Catherine, he answered all the questions from the cops when they arrived, but he kept his ears open as he did so.
“Meet me at the station,” Hagerty said brusquely.
“Yes, sir,” he said. “I’ll drive Catherine.”
She was silent during the ride, which left him steeped in his own thoughts. What was he missing? Maybe nothing at all. Perhaps it was what it seemed—a random robbery or Stone, who had surprised Linda. He’d need money and if he wasn’t involving his family, he’d have to take desperate measures. Garrett wondered if Stone had caught up with Antonia and taken her gun. He felt a prickle of panic. If Stone had Antonia... Too many questions without answers.
He and Catherine settled in the police department waiting room. Catherine wrapped her arms around Pinky’s neck. He longed to comfort her, but he wasn’t sure his efforts would be welcomed. Not with the way they’d parted at the hospital.
Kara joined them, patting Catherine gently on the shoulder. “We weren’t sure if you two needed any support. I thought I’d pop in and see.”
He smiled at his sister and Pinky wagged his tail in her direction. “You brought food, didn’t you?”
“Just some sandwiches for you two and a big dog biscuit for Pinks.” She handed them each a sandwich. “I’m going to take him outside for a walk. See you in a bit.”
He unwrapped his sandwich. “Vegan cheese, basil and tomato on sourdough,” he said. “Chase would say it’s missing the meat.”
Though he wasn’t hungry, he took a bite so Kara would feel appreciated.
Catherine picked at the crust.
When the silence became burdensome, he sighed. “I don’t even know what to say.”
She shoved her hair behind her ear and blew out a slow breath.
He tensed.
“You can say you were right,” she said. “It wasn’t safe for me to stay at my uncle’s house.”
“Nobody likes an I-told-you-so, me first and foremost. You...had reasons for your decision.”
She shook her head. “I can’t understand. Why do you think Linda was killed?”
“Don’t know, but the cops found some cash dropped outside the French doors, so it looks like a possible robbery.”
“A random theft? Isn’t that too much of a coincidence at this point?”
Exactly what he and his sister thought. He was hoping she wouldn’t ask any more questions, but he could tell by the crimp in her eyebrows that she was spinning all the facts around.
“Was she shot with the same gun stolen from my uncle’s house?”
“Not answerable until the ballistics come back.”
He knew what she was thinking. Porter Stone had killed again. After he’d captured Antonia?
“Why were you outside, with Pinky running loose?”
He considered how to frame the explanation and prayed he wouldn’t make things worse. “I felt uncomfortable knowing you were out there without security. Pinky and I decided to pull a night shift. He saw a raccoon and got away from me. He can’t stand raccoons. I think he figures they wear masks so they must be shifty.” The joke fell flat. He cleared his throat. “You made it clear you wanted to be alone, so I hope that I haven’t offended you by inviting myself onto Orson’s property.”
She shook her head and gave him a defeated smile. “That’d be pretty silly of me to be offended instead of grateful that you were there. I’m grateful and...apologetic. I shouldn’t have reacted that way at the hospital.”
“No apology necessary.”
“Yes, I think there is. I can’t even believe what’s happened to my life in the last four days. I hardly know what’s going to come out of my mouth next.”
She shivered and he took her hand. “Want to talk about it?”
“I feel terrible, to be honest. I didn’t like Linda. I didn’t trust her and I lobbed a pretty serious accusation at her and her boyfriend, and now she’s dead.”
He chose his words carefully. “It’s still not clear what her involvement is...was.”
“Regardless...” She grimaced. “She shouldn’t have been killed, murdered, especially in Orson’s house. They loved one another in the beginning and it was their home, once upon a time.” She breathed rapidly, struggling for control. “I’m going to have to tell him when he’s better.”
He sandwiched her cold fingers between his palms. “I’ll be there, if you need me.”
She sniffed. “Thank you. And...” Her cheeks went rosy. “If your offer to stay in Roman’s trailer is still open, I would humbly accept.”
He felt the relief course through him like a refreshing breeze. “That would be fine.” Fine, or more like phenomenal. She’d be safe, and she’d be close. He didn’t fully understand his joy at that last part, why he craved her presence, but it was becoming hard to deny. And having her talking to him again, part of his day-to-day, felt like winning a medal.
Hagerty spoke to them once more, briefly, one at a time.
Kara returned with Pinky, pleased to be told that Catherine would be staying. “I’ll let Chase know. I’m going over to the hospital to switch with him now.”
“How’s Mom?”
“Almost strong enough to forbid us from staying the night.”
“Good progress.”
“The best.” She hugged Garrett and kissed him on the cheek. “Love you, Gare Bear.”
Kara was always quick to share her feelings, the truest example of a person with a heart on their sleeve. He squeezed her close. “Love you too, sis. Thanks for the sandwiches.” Fifteen minutes later, Hagerty finally allowed them to head back to the ranch.
Garrett made sure to lock the security gate since he knew Chase and Kara had the code. A token effort.
Would Stone have any reason to try and get to Catherine?
It would be a surefire way to force Antonia to come to him, wouldn’t it? Unless he already had her, of course. There was no way to know the current whereabouts of either player.
But now there was another murder.
He felt a dark foreboding that things were coming to a head.
With the increased police attention, it would be a matter of time until Stone was recaptured. What would happen when the dragnet closed in?
The situation would explode.
He could almost hear the crackling of the fuse as it burned down to the dynamite.