*Mark would need to head outside any moment and do the welcoming act for Donaldson’s. But for now, he was attempting to observe their behavior so he could gauge their temperaments.
It wasn’t working.
His head was filled with thoughts of Lauren and what he’d been responsible for by giving Boomer the fake intelligence. He hadn’t known how she’d lost her business, and it made his blood boil that she’d been so badly abused. She’d lost everything she’d worked hard for, but had she crumbled and fallen apart? No. She’d come home to help those in need.
Shame filled him. How the hell was he going to correct his wrongs, and how could he ever make her believe he hadn’t meant this to happen? He’d given the intel because it had seemed like the softest option—but he hadn’t expected them to rake through her past and use her in this manner.
He straightened when Gerdin came up, thumbs tucked into the belt loops of his baggy jeans.
“You haven’t met them before?” the old man asked, clicking his dentures as he stared through the window.
“Why would I have?”
“That tall one, he’s D’Pee, head man. The big, sly looking fella is known as Slick. He does the running around, fetching whatever D’Pee asks for. There’s a third developer in their office, but none of us have met him. He’s probably not important enough to be slithering around, tricking us out of house and home.”
“They haven’t got your land yet,” Mark reminded him.
“Don’t mind telling you, son, they came pretty close a while back. We had a few households wanting to take the money they offered and move on. If they’d done that, we’d have been shackled to my way of thinking. Once you start chipping at the concrete foundation, the brick posts are eventually going to crumble.”
“I’ve never met anyone in town who didn’t want to stay.”
“That’s because of what Molly did in Hopeless. They all wanted to sell until she put her ideas into practice. Then we heard Lauren was coming home, and it gave us all heart. This is our home. Most of us were born here, as were our children and our children’s children. We want to win. We want to show, once and for all, that we can do things for ourselves.”
“You’re blessed people. All of you.”
“We had help,” Gerdin said. “The Mackillops always look out for their own, and they consider every one of us a part of their extended family. But I reckon none of us in Surrender could have done all this without you.”
He didn’t want this praise. He didn’t deserve it. “You’re the ones who have come up with all the brilliant ideas. I’ve done hardly anything.” Except behind their backs.
“Maybe so,” Gerdin said. “But I still reckon you were meant to be here.”
“And I’d better get on with my job.” He hadn’t felt tired or drained from his sleepless night until twenty minutes ago when he listened to Lauren speak. He’d been wired, given what he’d had to put into place with his father’s disappearance, but this additional burden of responsibility squeezed his heart.
He pulled at the brim of his Stetson and headed onto the veranda.
Donaldson’s reps had already put up a table and a whiteboard and were opening their briefcases, which were piled with leaflets.
The guy, Slick, noticed Mark first. He nudged D’Pee. “Cops.”
D’Pee frowned when he saw Mark. “Morning, Officer. Can we help you?”
Mark paused, then remembered he was wearing a sheriff’s badge. “Mark Sterrett.”
D’Pee grinned, visibly relaxed. “What are you in that getup for?”
“Idiot,” Slick said, and went back to stacking leaflets on the table.
“Part of the charm of the Desert Sage Saloon,” Mark told them.
D’Pee looked up at the sign above the doorway and shook his head. “Charm? You’re making a fool of yourself.”
Which served him right. It had been Ingrid’s idea he wear the getup, backed by Hortense, who’d found the badge, and he’d gone along with it. But the humor behind the intent had vanished. He no longer felt able to show the friendly family-bar-owner demeanor.
Except he had to.
“Can I get you guys coffee?”
They ignored him and Mark clenched his jaw. They were showing their force, and no matter how much he’d enjoy a dustup, it wasn’t going to happen. What did interest him was why they’d appeared so wary of seeing a cop in town.
“Is that her?” D’Pee said, nodding down the street to where Lauren was standing outside the new information cabin. She was surrounded by some of the press and Mark’s heart summersaulted. He wanted to leap the veranda railing and run to her.
“That’s Lauren Mackillop,” he confirmed.
“Good-looking piece of ass but a lousy businesswoman. I’m doubting she could create anything of lasting value in this dump. If a family saloon and a haunted house are all she’s come up with in the last week, our job’s going to be easy.”
“If I were you, I wouldn’t underestimate anyone around here.”
“Well, you’re not us, are you?” D’Pee hissed. “You’re nothing but the son of a loser.”
“How come you didn’t tell us about this Sage Springs house until late last night?” Slick asked.
“I didn’t realize you didn’t know about it.”
D’Pee handed Slick some posters and told him to hang them on the railings. “We can pull all the romantic stuff down pretty easily,” he said to Mark. “Who’d want to get married in this eyesore of a town? But what else is planned?”
Mark inhaled. “Like I told your compatriot, the Texan with the deep voice, they’re making things up as they go. I helped them come up with the idea of the family saloon, Lauren came up with the haunted house concept, and the rest of them are winging it. “You’ll no doubt hear all about their ideas throughout the morning.”
“Good. Because we need to talk to them face to face. We’ve got sweeteners, plus we reckon they won’t be too gung ho about following the sexy brunette now that they know her background.”
“Who was responsible for the leak to the press?”
D’Pee glanced at Slick, then grinned at Mark. “You were.”
His heart rate rose. “Why wasn’t I told about what had happened to her in Santa Ynez?”
“Because it was none of your business,” Slick said, stepping up to the table and shoving his hands into the pockets of his suit trousers. “Now, how about that coffee?”
Mark nodded. “Sugar?” He hoped to God they said yes, because there was rat poison in the shed out the back and he was tempted to open the packet.
“You’ve given us good intel,” D’Pee said in a conceding tone. “But if you’re holding out on anything else, you’ll pay for it. Or your mommy will.”
Mark managed to stop himself from throwing a punch.
“Well, howdy, gentlemen! Isn’t it a glorious day? Ingrid Gerdin.” Ingrid thrust her hand out and D’Pee took it, looking slightly dazed as she pumped it. “I was a 1935 synchronized swimming champion—and I’ve still got all the moves. Wanna see some?”
D’Pee pulled his hand out of Ingrid’s, picked up a leaflet, and handed it to her, a shark’s smile in place. “Great to meet you, Ingrid. I’d like to chat about some incredible luck coming your way.”
“I’m ninety-three, fellas. I reckoned my luck had just about run out until we suddenly came up with ideas for our town’s rejuvenation. You haven’t told them already, have you, Mark?”
He shook his head. “Haven’t said a word.”
Hortense came storming up the steps to the veranda. “Ingrid Gerdin! I hope you’re not flirting with these scumbags!”
“This here’s Hortense,” Ingrid said. “She’s thirty-three and a quarter and runs the antique shop, although it’s currently full of junk. And we’ve got Miss Flores, who’s only fifty-two. She’s gonna be turning her candlemaker shop into a dog beauty parlor. We’re also thinking of opening up a cattle ranch just outside town. Not that any of us know a darn thing about cows, except how to eat ’em, and we haven’t got the dollars to splash on anything grand, but we figure if we don’t start somewhere we’ll end up nowhere.” She beamed at the bemused faces of D’Pee and Slick.
“Yeah,” Hortense added with a scowl. “So shove your propaganda where the sun don’t shine.”
“Oh, come on!” Ingrid said. “Let’s be welcoming.” She moved to the veranda railings and lifted her back leg. “How about that synchronized swimming display? I’m limbered up and ready.”
Mark’s heart was so full, he was getting choked up. As arranged, Ingrid was good cop, Hortense bad. Confusing the hell out of the suckers with the leaflets and the ingratiating smiles.
“I’ll grab those coffees,” he said, and moved into the saloon.
Taking a seat at the bar, he pulled off the Stetson, set it on the counter, and swiped his brow.
“Need something, Mark?” Kid asked.
He nodded. “Two extra-strong, extra-sweet espressos. Hold the rat poison.”
Kid frowned, and Mark found a smile. “Just two coffees, buddy. Thank you.”
“You seem to be getting on well with those shady bastards,” Gerdin said from his barstool where he was reading the Texas Portal. “I’m mighty proud of you, son. I couldn’t face them.”
The back of Mark’s neck heated up. “Gotta do what you gotta do.”
*
Lauren came out of the information cabin with a handful of leaflets about Sage Springs Haven and found herself face to face with reporters. All had cameras and notebooks.
“Do you have any comment on your dealings with crime lords in California, Miss Mackillop?”
“Is it true you lost your business in a poker game?”
“Have the police been involved?”
She put the leaflets onto the table, nerve ends firing. She hadn’t prepared for such a barrage.
“Thank you all for coming,” she said with a smile she hoped didn’t look as shaky as it felt. “It’s wonderful to see such positive interest in our town.”
“Wouldn’t say it was positive just yet,” a man said in a cynical tone.
“Do you have a comment about your dealings in Santa Ynez?” another asked.
“I have nothing to say about the comments made in the Texas Portal this morning, except that the accusations are false. I’ll be preparing a statement.” She’d have to. She had to fight this. “I do have a lot to say about Surrender though and how we intend to progress.”
“Can you at least give us some background on your communications with criminals?”
Marie’s words came to mind, about filling the gaps until the truth came out. She didn’t want them spreading lies so she’d have to speak up, with or without a lawyer and a statement. Today’s intent was supposed to be all about the town and the only way to get the focus back was to give the press some of the truths.
“I knew only one criminal, my business partner.”
“A source tells us he was shot in the back. Is that true?”
Where on earth had they gotten that? She’d made it up at some point, but when? Who had she said it to?
“Are you selling out to Donaldson’s?”
“Never.”
Laughter erupted at the other end of the street, and the reporters turned to see what was going on, giving Lauren a chance to find her breath.
The TV crew was setting up, and Marie looked like she had them in her spell. Their van and the blogmobile were now parked in such a way that it obliterated Donaldson’s view of the cabin.
“Who’s that?” a reporter asked.
“My aunt.”
“Is she one of the fortune-tellers?”
“Soothsayers,” Lauren corrected quickly. “The Mackillops are ordinary women with special gifts. There’s nothing odd about them.”
“Quirky story though.”
“Yeah, but not the one we want right now,” a bespectacled reporter said. “What are your thoughts about Donaldson’s Property Development, Miss Mackillop?”
“Not ones that should be published.”
That brought a little laughter. She was gaining their attention. Now she needed their trust. “But they are pressuring and harassing us.”
The reporters scribbled in their notebooks.
“Looks like they charged in and set themselves up, regardless of what the town wants,” a female reporter said. “Didn’t they try to do that in Hopeless too?”
“They did. And just like Hopeless, we’ve got plans in place to deal with them—but don’t tell them I told you.”
It gained her a few smiles.
The same reporter picked up one of the Sage Spring Haven leaflets. “What’s this all about?”
“The house isn’t open yet. Neither are some of our proposed new businesses. But our intent is to regenerate by keeping Surrender’s historic and peaceful ambience, and Sage Springs Haven will be a place for women to arrive tired and leave inspired.” That got the reporter’s attention along with her female colleague’s. “We’ll be offering business classes, life skills, empowerment, and anything women of today need to make their lives more rewarding or just more enjoyable. Time out from the pressures of everyday life.”
“Is this the house with the ghosts?”
“We said that to deter Donaldson’s—and don’t tell them I told you that, either!”
The amenable expressions of her audience were growing, and the tenseness in her shoulders lessening.
“We’ll be keeping everyone up to date with regular newsletters. If you really want to help, would you suggest that people sign up?”
“You want to use us as a promo opportunity?”
“Why not? You’re here, aren’t you? You want a story, and I want to give you the best one I can.”
“What’s with the saloon? What’s the score there? Who runs it?”
She wasn’t going to mention Mark; it was part of the deal she kept the press away from him. “Have you been in there yet? It’s a great family environment. It’s going to turn this town around.”
As she said it, she knew it was the truth. Mark’s family saloon would be just as big a drawing card as the haven. Their two businesses could survive, side by side.
If he stayed.
*
Mark understood what Marie had done by parking the vans in front of the developer’s table, but it cut his vision of the cabin and the reporters surrounding Lauren.
Nervous energy rumbled around his system. He still wanted to leap the railing and go to her. But that wasn’t the arrangement.
She’ll handle it. She was smart and she had her heart in this venture, but knowing her capabilities didn’t help with the building anxiety.
In a quiet moment, after Ingrid had finished her synchronized swimming display that had fazed D’Pee and Slick so much their coffees had gone cold, he’d tried to pry information out of them regarding Boomer.
“Don’t know the man,” D’Pee had said, not meeting Mark’s eye. “Wouldn’t want to know a man like that.”
Something about D’Pee’s demeanor sparked a concern. He knew more about the man who had sole contact with Mark than he was letting on.
“You!” a female said behind him in a hushed tone. “I want a word.”
He turned to find Marie standing inside the bar. She must have come in from the back, and she looked like she meant business. Had she discovered his role in the article about Lauren’s business past?
He checked on the developers. They were chatting to the Fairmonts, who were giving them some absurd spiel about their plans to open an enclave in their flower plot and turn a corner of Surrender into a 1960s annual hippie festival.
He followed Marie inside and to the far end of the bar, nodding to Doc, who was barman today, currently serving soft drinks to a group of people who’d wandered in ten minutes ago. If the Buckners wanted a change in career, they had one here as far as Mark was concerned. Doc would make a brilliant manager, and Kid was a whiz in the kitchen. Butch was going to be tied up in a romance with Hortense, although it wouldn’t stop him working in the bar in between renovating the antique shop, if that was what he wanted.
But none of them would be able to afford the purchase price of the lease.
What the hell would happen to the place once his real reason for being here got out?
How many more of the thirty people who resided in Surrender would find new ways to build their income and change their current status from static to excitingly opportunistic? They’d all turned up today, and every one of them was out there on the street, doing their bit. They’d left the most challenging tasks up to the people Mark had the most contact with, like the Gerdins, Hortense, and the Fairmonts. But each one of them knew the plans and was acting on them. Engaging the tourists with smiles and a big welcome. Distracting Donaldson’s by appearing interested in their leaflets and posters, advocating a possibility they might be up for selling their land.
Marie grabbed him by the sleeve when he reached her side. “Sit,” she said, slapping her purse onto the counter as she sat on a stool. “You’re in trouble.”
Didn’t he know it. He sat, preparing himself for the onslaught. He wasn’t going to lie this one out. He also had to tell Lauren what he’d done as soon as he got the chance.
“How’s Lauren getting on with the press?”
“Holding her own.”
The sunrise had found him looking out over the town and referring to it as his, believing it possible he was heading into a decent future. He’d admitted his feelings for Lauren and had hoped to one day call her his girl. He’d thought he was making things happen, and what man didn’t want to create a solid, familiar, and stable environment for himself? He’d been ready for anything—and prepared for nothing. He’d played right into Boomer’s hands.
So much for thinking he could write his own story.
“You’ve done some good for the townspeople,” Marie said. “Giving them jobs. Giving them a chance to shine. The Buckners, for example. Thank you for that.”
“It takes more than schooling to make a good man.”
“They’re the hope we’ve kept going all these years. They didn’t run off. They stayed with us and made a home here.”
Good men. Reliable men.
He pulled his hat off and set it on the bar. “It was me,” he confessed. “I did it. I told Donaldson’s about the haunted house and the wedding venue.”
“Which was a lie you put in place to look after her real interests.”
He glanced at her, surprised by the unruffled tone. “You’re not angry?”
“You did what you thought was best. But like a fool man who already has enough on his plate, you step up to protect Lauren when there’s no need. What were you thinking, offering yourself up to the press?”
She didn’t know what was going on in his life outside of Surrender, but Lauren must have spoken to her about his reasons for not wanting to front the press.
“I intend to tell Lauren as soon as I can.” And take the consequences. The thought sank his heart to his stomach. “I’ve fallen for her, Marie.”
She patted his hand. “Just try to think rationally when it all goes wrong.”
“It already has, hasn’t it?” It had been wrong before it started. He should have thought of some other way out instead of accepting the job to snoop on these good people.
“I’m talking about the rest of your life, Mark. Consider this—only you have the power to decide where your thoughts lead you.”
He had no idea what she was referring to, but Ava had said something similar. Be careful about your feelings and what you believe.
“You worry about yourself, Mark. We’ve got Lauren’s back.”
“You mean the townspeople?”
“I mean the Mackillops.”
His cell phone rang.
“You need to get that,” she said, slipping off her stool and picking up her purse. “It’s important.”
“It’ll be my mom,” he said with a forced smile, which was undoubtedly crooked because he’d just seen the caller ID. Boomer.
“Tell that to your granny from Idaho,” she said with an ironic grin. “She’s watching you, too—along with a few others. You’re not as alone as you think you are.”
He paused as she left. After experiencing visions in the mirror, weirdness at Sage Springs, and the midnight visit from Wild Ava, the Mackillops were beginning to give him the heebie-jeebies.
He picked up his hat and took the stairs to his private rooms two at a time, slamming the door closed behind him.
“What is it now?” he asked as he answered the call. He was over giving this man his patience.
“Have you found your father?”
“For God’s sake, I’ve had a few hours!” Who was this guy, and where was he based? “You damned well know I haven’t seen or heard from him in twenty years. I have no idea where he is or where he’d go.”
“You’ve got a problem, then. There was a bank heist in California late last night. Pretty close to where you mom lives. The cops have put out an APB for him.”
“You’re saying my father robbed a bank?”
“Don’t be stupid. He only steals from the easy sources—like the property management account in Bermuda he was given control of.”
“So why are the cops after him?”
“A source close to us advised them he was the perpetrator who had gotten away with thirty thousand.”
Mark began storing information the way he would when plotting for a book. Donaldson knew his father was in California, but not where and that meant they weren’t only relying on Mark for information on his whereabouts; they had their henchmen looking for him too. Was it their men who pulled off the bank heist? Were they capable of such things? How many operatives did this Donaldson have and how did their underground crime ring work? Because that was surely what it was. An enormously wealthy philanthropist whose reputation was squeaky clean on the outside but who wouldn’t hesitate to have someone murdered to justify his own revenge.
“I’ll find my father, but you have to give me today. I can’t leave town today.”
“We don’t want you to leave—you’re too much use to us where you are. But we don’t want you getting soft and forgetting about Daddy. Mr. Donaldson has plans for him, and don’t forget, if the cops find him before you do, they might turn up at your mother’s place. It won’t be long before they discover how she won that brand-new vehicle.”
Boomer cut the call and Mark gripped his cell phone. For once, he’d like to be the one to hang up first. To cut the call and show his disdain.
It rang again.
“Found him,” Big Sam said without preamble. “What now?”
“You found him? Already?”
“It was easy. He was sleeping rough with a few homeless people I know. He didn’t give me any trouble. I just yanked him up, carried him to my vehicle, and dumped him in the trunk.”
“Where are you now?”
“My aunt Maisie’s place. She left me the house. First time I’ve been in it. It’s got two bedrooms and a little porch. I might stay. It’s real pretty out here.”
“Is the house secure?” If it was on a suburban street, neighbors would start to ask questions about Big Sam’s sudden arrival.
“Out in the country,” Big Sam said. “Closest neighbor is five miles away.”
This was incredible. Things were looking better—suddenly, as though he had a guardian angel on his shoulder.
“Want him roughed up?” Big Sam asked. “I don’t want to do it myself though. Don’t like hurting folk, even if they deserve it.”
“No need for that. I just want him out of sight.”
“Shall I feed him?”
How about rat poison? “Maybe something simple on the gut. Mashed potatoes and cabbage.”
“You got it.”
“Sam, if you can get out of the house in the daytime, would you check on my mom?”
“It’s covered. Got a friend looking out for her. He’s ex-army. Recently made homeless, so I gave him enough cash to feed himself for the week, and he put up his sleeping bag in the park opposite your mom’s house. She’s already found him and offered to help him get a job. He opened up a conversation and my name came up, so she’s thrilled because she thinks she’s helping someone who knows you through me. My friend is right inside the house, Mark. She and your sisters are safe.”
Mark covered his eyes with his hand. How lucky could an unlucky guy get? “I owe you, Sam.”
“No. After what you did for me when I was down, we’re even.”
Sam cut the call and Mark fitted his Stetson back on his head, evaluating the situation’s new twists and turns.
If Donaldson tried to pull off the crime scene murder—God forbid they kill anyone—Johnson Sterrett would have an alibi, since he’d have been in Big Sam’s company the entire time. His mother was being watched over twenty-four seven whether she realized it or not, and if the police bothered her Mark could explain how everything had happened and personally hand over his father to the cops. For the moment, only he knew where his father was, which gave him time to put his focus back on Surrender and the safety of people here. Lauren’s safety. He needed as much intel on Boomer and the scum out on his veranda as he could get, and today was his only chance.
The warbling of a bird distracted him. A whistle then a chirp, loud and persistent.
He went to the window and scraped aside the curtain. The leaves of the plains cottonwoods lining the street were barely rustling. There was nothing in the sky except silky white clouds. But down on the street, a group of reporters were standing in front of the bar, notebooks in hand—and Donaldson’s had their full attention.
The bird trilled again. Was it mocking him? He was tired, he hadn’t slept in more than twenty-four hours, and it was possible he was hearing things, but, nevertheless, his thoughts went to Lauren.
What were Donaldson’s saying about her now? Trite lies, vicious falsehoods. Big or small, all of them would be damaging and he couldn’t let them hurt her a second time.
It was time to put his best foot forward. Regardless of what happened.