CHAPTER FOURTEEN

At this moment, Beth wished she still had that mass of hair. She could have used a handy place to hide. Ty’s stare told her she’d asked a really stupid question, and she was not stupid. Nor was she the typical jealous-female type. Far from it.

Damn. She drew a deep breath and summoned her detective persona.

Be professional, Dearborn.

“Anyway, none of my business. Never mind.” She took a step toward the barn, but he put a hand on her shoulder.

“Amanda Barnes is an old friend and our veterinarian.” His tone was calm and unaccusing. “You’ll find her in that Rolodex of Lorilee’s. They were best friends from childhood. She’s on the list of names I gave you the other day of people you should talk to.”

Beth remembered the name. She nodded. “Thanks. I’ll do that.” She inclined her head toward the barn. “Let’s have a look at the baby horse so I can get back to work and your lives can get back to normal.”

“Baby horse?” He grinned.

“Uh, foal?”

“Right. I really do like the hair.” He reached out to play with the short waves around her face. “Really sets off your eyes. You have beautiful eyes. Very expressive.” He leaned closer. “They give you away you know.”

She stiffened. “I have no idea what you mean.” He couldn’t possibly know her secret. At least, she sure hoped not. “Anyway, the horse…”

“Have it your way.” He dropped his hands to his sides. “She’s a beautiful filly, all legs.” He allowed his gaze to drift down the length of her and back to her face. “Like someone else I know.”

Beth cleared her throat. “Filly, my ass.” She hesitated at the barn door. “You know, I think I’ll head back to the house and see the filly later. I need to make up for the time I lost this afternoon.”

“Sure.” Ty gave her a tight smile that said he didn’t buy her excuse.

Well, that made two of them. Truth was, Beth had to put some distance between herself and Ty Malone—even temporarily. Right now she wanted to throw her arms around him and thank him for saying he liked her haircut and for talking about her eyes. No man had ever done that, and it made her feel…silly and all squishy inside.

Get a grip, Dearborn.

She’d made it to thirty-one without hearing that kind of mush, and she didn’t need it now. She’d finally become resigned to spending her life alone and miserable, just one step ahead of a bottle of bourbon, and she couldn’t afford to become dependant on a man. She managed to avoid his knowing look—the you’re-hiding-again-even-without-the-hair look—and headed toward the house at a brisk pace.

Her backpack swung heavily against her side, and she shifted it to the left just as a loud cracking sound erupted, and something slammed into her. The impact sent her sprawling. Pain and instinct sent her scrambling behind a tree.

Her heart raced. She turned hot, then cold. Her belly clenched. No mistake. She’d been here, done this.

Someone was shooting at her.

She tugged her bag around to examine. Sure enough, a bullet hole was in the soft leather. She reached inside and removed what was left of her Glock. The bullet was lodged in its holster, but the gun itself had blocked the bullet and bruised bloody hell out of her ribs. Better that than a gaping hole in her side. The gun had saved her life yet again, and now it was destroyed.

The caliber of the bullet was from a powerful, long-distance rifle. She kept the useless weapon handy from instinct, then retrieved her cell phone and found the entry for Ty’s number.

“Was that a gunshot?” he answered.

“Yes, keep everybody in the barn and call the sheriff.”

“We aren’t stupid. Otherwise we would have run out after you,” he said on a sigh. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, but call.”

“He’ll have to send somebody from Marysville.”

“That damn bridge.” Beth chewed her lower lip. “Whoever it was is probably long gone by now, and they fired from long distance.”

“How can you tell that?”

“Ammo.”

“Are you hit?” Ty’s voice rose. “Cecil, call the sheriff. Somebody’s taking potshots at Beth.”

“My backpack stopped it.”

Silence filled the line for a few seconds. “What’s in there? Lead?”

Beth grinned in spite of the possible danger, though instinct told her the shooter had taken one shot and fled. “Something like.”

“Try Rick Heppel,” Ty said to Cecil. “Ask him if he can fly the sheriff out here before the kids get home.”

“Good thinking,” Beth said. “Can Grandpa get the kids and keep them from coming home until we know it’s safe?”

“Good thinking. Pearl’s doing that now,” Ty returned. “We make a good team. Where, exactly, are you?”

“Behind the big tree with the tire swing, near the back door.” Beth continued to scan the horizon in the general direction from where the shot had come. “I think the shooter is gone.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because he probably thinks he got me, since I went down and didn’t get back up.”

“And you think he was after you why?”

“Same reason he sabotaged my brakes.”

“God dammit all to hell.” He sighed into the phone. “At least this time I have an alibi.”

“That’s true. You do.” She waited a minute. “Is Heppel bringing the sheriff?”

She heard Ty talking to Pearl and Cecil, but couldn’t quite make out the words. “Yes, he’s doing it. I hear his chopper taking off now.”

Sure enough, the chopper rose just beyond the tree line. Interesting. Beth hadn’t realized how close his place was as the crow flies, so to speak. On foot, a person could go back and forth—as long as they didn’t mind crossing the creek—within a few minutes between the two farms.

A chilling thought raced down her spine. Heppel could have walked over here and cut her brake lines last night.

And with the right weapon and skill, he could sit on the roof of his hangar and pick her off from there without much difficulty. He was a trained army vet.

“Hey, Ty?” she said into the phone.

“Yeah?”

“Did you tell Heppel why we need the sheriff?”

“No, I didn’t. Just that it’s an emergency.”

“Did he have any kind of reaction?”

“He asked if we need a doctor, too.”

“Damn. Just stay put until they get here. And Brubaker’s definitely getting the kids?”

“Yes. And taking them home with him after school.”

“Good.”

Beth heard the sound of footsteps and had her mangled Glock leveled at the intruder in one smooth motion. In a crouch, she kept the weapon aimed straight at him.

“Ty, you fool!”

“You have a gun,” he said, staring, cell phone still held to his ear. “A big one.”

She released the hammer and turned on the safety, then slid the weapon carefully into her backpack. “I told you to stay in the barn.”

“You also said you thought the shooter was gone.” He pocketed the cell phone. “So I’m a guy. Shoot me. Er, nix that—bad choice of words. I needed to make sure you’re really okay.”

“I’m okay. See?” She sighed. “Will you at least get down? I could’ve shot you.” Well, not really.

“With that big gun.”

Beth laughed. “Yes, with my big gun.” She didn’t tell him it was a broken big gun.

Ty dropped to the ground and crawled on his belly until he was beside Beth. “Let me see the bullet.”

Beth held out her palm. “See?”

“Definitely from a rifle.” He picked it up and examined it. “Now I guess I have a pretty good idea what it hit in your backpack.”

“Good thing it did.”

“I’d say so.” He returned it to her, his expression solemn. “You could be splattered all over the backyard, Beth.”

“Don’t I know it.” She shoved the slug back into her pocket. “They were afraid of not getting another chance. And as far as we know, the shooter thinks he got me.”

“Yeah.” A look of dread settled across his handsome face. “Can we change the subject?”

The worry in his eyes filled Beth with warmth. No one but her mother and Sam had ever worried about her before. Oh, maybe her commander a couple of times, but mostly because of the trouble she always caused.

She leaned close and kissed his cheek. “Thanks for caring.”

Now it was his turn to blush.

He cleared his throat. “You think we can make a run for the back door now?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Beth touched his sleeve. “But I’d rather Cecil and Pearl didn’t try to come from the barn until after the sheriff arrives.”

“Me, too.” Ty called Cecil and told him they were going in and that he and Pearl should stay put.

Together, Ty and Beth darted through the back door, the mudroom, and into the empty kitchen. Ty sniffed the air appreciatively. “Beef and barley stew.”

“How did you know that?”

“The nose knows.” He grinned and tapped her nose. “You scared the hell out of me when we heard that shot.”

She didn’t want to meet his gaze, but something compelled her. For some reason she couldn’t look away. “We need to teach Pearl to lock doors.”

He grinned again. “None of us lock doors around here, Beth. It’s a farm. Lots of coming and going.”

“Exactly.” She shrugged. “Whoever took a shot at me will probably try again. They want me gone, Ty.” She grasped his upper arms. “I’m not leaving now. I’m determined to find out what happened to Lorilee. Nobody’s taking potshots at me and getting away with it.”

“There’s my girl.”

My girl? Taken aback, Beth blinked several times. “Well, I have a job to do, and I intend to do it.” She finally broke eye contact. “Leaving the house wideopen all the time is problematic.”

“Locking the door and unlocking it all the time on a farm is, too.” He reached out and caught her chin in his hand, tilted her face upward, and brought his lips down on hers.

The kiss was short but potent. Beth swayed and he reached for her, but she summoned her stubborn dignity and pulled back. “What was that about?”

“I don’t think it requires an explanation.” He cleared his throat. “We established last night that we want each other.”

“So we did.” She faced him again, determined to change the subject. “I think the webcams you have set up can be put to use for security.”

“What?” He shook his head. “You lost me. What does that have to do with kissing?”

She smiled. “Not a damn thing.” A whirring sound reached her ears and she pointed upward. “Hark! It’s a bird. It’s a plane.”

“Cute.”

“Where will he land that thing?”

“The only place open enough besides my fields—and he knows better—is out in front of the driveway.”

She pushed through the swinging doors into the parlor, then stopped in her tracks. He ran right into the back of her. “What is it?”

“I’ll go back this way and meet you out front.”

“Um…what the hell’s wrong with the front door?”

She met and held his gaze for several seconds as the chopper landed. “It’s a long story, Ty, and we don’t have time right now.”

“That’s a cop-out if I ever heard one.”

“Well, I used to be a cop. Get over it.” She darted into the kitchen and headed for the back door. “Let’s get going.”

Shaking his head, Ty followed her, instead of going through the front door. “I want to hear this long story, Beth Dearborn,” he said, following her around the corner of the house. “Tonight. After dinner.”

She stopped, and he ran into her again. “Will you stop doing that?” he asked.

She winced from the horrible bruise spreading across the side of her torso, but the pain helped remind her she was alive. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” she said, her tone deadly serious. “I’d have to show you, and I can’t do that. You don’t want me to do that. Trust me.”

He rubbed her shoulder. “Okay. For now.”

“For now.”

Sam had to save her from herself, because she was more convinced than ever that the ghost in the foyer had a story worth telling. Either it was Lorilee or, she’d be willing to bet, it knew about her.

Someone definitely didn’t want her here, and sure as hell didn’t want her dredging up the truth. Well, tough, because that was exactly what she was determined to do.

“We’re still going to have a talk after dinner,” Ty said. “Get used to the idea.”

“Fine, dammit. We’ll talk, but I can’t tell you what you want to know, Ty.”

“Maybe you don’t know what it is I want to know.”

His tone indicated he wasn’t talking about her secrets now. She swallowed the lump in her throat and started walking toward the front of the house again. “Let’s go talk to the sheriff.”

Pearl invited everybody to dinner and managed to throw together something suitably vegan for Rick, who had also visited the school fundraiser today and was only half as hairy as the last time Ty had seen him. Was that why Beth kept glancing at him, or was there another reason?

Ty certainly couldn’t discount the fact that the man lived in the same general area from where the shot had been fired. Beth hadn’t said anything about being suspicious of Heppel, but Ty sensed it.

His weird neighbor may have had opportunity to sabotage Beth’s brakes and take a shot at her, but why would he have done such a thing? If it was true, there was only one possible explanation, and it didn’t set well with Ty at all.

Lorilee. Was Rick Heppel the man responsible? After all these years, would it turn out to be their next-door neighbor? A man his wife had befriended and trusted?

Ty watched everybody eat, relieved, for once, that the kids weren’t home. The place felt empty without them, but it was best this way. He’d drive over and pick them up in the morning, since it was Saturday. Meanwhile, they could spend the night being spoiled by their grandfather and endured by their Grandma Ruby.

As he watched his guests share the meal, he couldn’t convince himself of Heppel’s guilt. The big man always seemed so gentle. Lorilee had thought so, and Pearl did as well. Try as he might, Ty just couldn’t imagine him as a cold-blooded killer.

“So you have the bullet, then?” Sheriff Bailey asked after Beth finished telling him the story of how her backpack had stopped the bullet.

She reached into her pocket and retrieved the piece of metal, only slightly blunted from its impact with her backpack and its contents. Ty ran a hand through his hair. Thank God she packed a piece. He almost laughed aloud with relief, but held himself in check.

Dan Bailey was a good ten years older than Ty, but he carried his age well. He’d been re-elected six times, and—other than Lorilee’s disappearance—had solved every case that had come along. Of course, like most of Brubaker, he believed her case had been solved, that she’d abandoned her family and fled to Europe.

“You were right. Definitely a long-range rifle,” Dan commented when Beth handed him the bullet to examine. “I suppose it could have been a poacher with lousy aim.”

“Bullshit.” Ty’s tone was sharper than he’d intended, but they might as well get everything out on the table. “Someone deliberately cut the brake lines on her car last night.”

Dan’s brows arched in surprise. “Really?” He looked at Beth. “Where’s your car now?”

“Einstein here had it towed to Marysville.” Beth grinned when Ty scowled at her.

“Mitch’s Garage,” he provided without being asked. “He checked the lines himself.”

Dan nodded and actually made a few notes on a memo pad he pulled from his pocket. “I’ll call him when I get back to the office.” He took a few more bites of stew. “Pearl, you are the finest cook in the county.”

“Don’t let these fine men be forgetting it, either,” the woman said with a giggle.

“Not in this lifetime,” Cecil said, and gave her cheek a peck.

“That’s a promise,” Ty agreed.

“Thank you for preparing something special for me, Mrs. Montgomery,” Heppel said. “It’s delicious.”

“You’re welcome. And I’ve told you before to call me Pearl.”

“Looks like someone doesn’t want you here, Ms. Dearborn,” Dan said as he pushed his bowl away. “You’re here to investigate Lorilee’s disappearance for the insurance company, as I understand it. Correct?”

“Actually, sir, to prove or disprove her death,” Beth corrected, “since there’s been a claim filed for her life insurance.”

“What’s your background, Ms. Dearborn, before insurance investigating?” Dan asked. “If you don’t mind sharing.”

“I don’t mind at all.” She kept her gaze leveled on the sheriff. “I was on the Chicago Police Department. Homicide.”

Dan let out a low whistle. “Impressive credentials.”

Cecil added, “Don’t that beat all?”

“Homicide?” Ty hadn’t known that part.

“Yes, Homicide.” Beth toyed with the food remaining in her bowl. “Really delicious stew, Pearl.”

“All right, so it’s a life-insurance claim,” Dan continued, as if they’d never strayed off topic. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “And Ty, being the beneficiary, would want you here. So that rules him out.”

“Damn straight,” Ty said.

“I think we can rule out Pearl and Cecil, too.” Dan smiled. “And you said they were both in the barn at the time anyway.”

“That’s right.” Cecil reached for a roll. “Got us a new filly.”

“Always good news.” Dan turned the bullet over and over between his thumb and forefinger. “What about you, Rick? Do you have a rifle this might fit?”

Everybody turned to stare at the old hippie. He seemed very calm for someone who’d more or less just been accused of attempted murder.

Rick placed his fork on his plate and folded his hands in front of him. “I don’t own any guns.”

“None at all?”

“I’m a pacifist.”

“Since Nam?” Dan poked.

Heppel lurched to his feet, nearly tipping over his chair. “We aren’t talking about that. Not now. Not ever.” Though his words were harsh, his tone was almost fiercely calm.

Pearl rose and patted Rick’s arm. “No, son. We aren’t. Sit, sit. It’s fine. Sit.”

The look Pearl gave everyone at the table put an immediate end to Rick’s interrogation. The big man did as she asked, but he sat stoically and didn’t resume eating.

Ty noticed the way Pearl handled Rick was different from the way Lorilee had treated him. Lorilee had treated Rick as an equal. She hadn’t let him pull that crap with her—at least it hadn’t seemed that way to Ty. However, the pair had spent a lot more time alone together than Ty would have liked. Of course, Rick was old enough to have been Lorilee’s father. Still…

Pearl, on the other hand, treated him almost maternally, though they were probably near the same age. In fact, Heppel might have had a few years on her.

He sensed the cogs turning in Beth’s brain. She sat right beside him, at the place usually occupied by Sarah. So far, she’d remained fairly quiet, but he figured that would change. He also noticed she hadn’t touched the wine Pearl had served with dinner. After being shot at, you’d think she could’ve used a belt or three.

Just thinking about it made him reach for his. He’d have preferred three fingers of the Irish whiskey his father had always kept for “medicinal purposes.” Dad hadn’t consumed alcohol often, and when he did it was always Jameson’s. He called it his one indulgence, and it was. John Malone had been a hardworking man of modest means, and had lived his life and raised his son that way.

Ty refilled his wine, which was rare for him. He wasn’t much of a drinker as a rule. Not after living with Lorilee. As the years went by and her secret drinking increased, he’d realized the importance of the children having one sober parent around. He suppressed the sigh threatening to escape and turned his attention back to Dan and the conversation.

“I’ll take this bullet in to Forensics,” he said. “But without a weapon, you know it won’t do much good.”

“Unless there’s a previous record.” Beth reached for her water glass and took a sip.

“Is the wine not to your liking, Beth?” Pearl asked. “I have a white chilled, if you pre—”

“No, it’s not that, Pearl,” she interrupted. “I don’t drink.” She shrugged and set down her water glass. “Rick doesn’t eat meat and I don’t drink alcohol. No biggie.”

“I should’ve asked first.” Pearl stood and removed Beth’s wineglass, passing it over to Cecil. “You aren’t going anywhere tonight, old man.”

With a laugh, he took the glass. “Only with you, old woman. Only with you.”

Ty had never met a cop, or former one, who didn’t drink. As she’d said, “no biggie,” so he dismissed it and concentrated on what was important.

He leveled his gaze on Dan. “Look, I know you and most of the town gossips wrote off Lorilee’s disappearance after that bogus letter came.”

He held up his hand when Dan started to speak. “Hear me out, please.”

Dan set aside his fork and leaned back in his chair. “I’m listening, Ty.”

And he was. The man’s expression definitely seemed receptive enough. So Ty drew a deep breath and looked around the table before continuing.

“The kids and I have put up with a lot of crap these past seven years. Gossip and rumors and stories about fake sightings.”

“I know. I’ve had to investigate them.”

Ty nodded. “And they’ve all turned out to be false for the same reason, Dan. The same reason I’ve known all along.”

“Because Lorilee was murdered,” Rick Heppel said quietly, his arms folded, his chin on his chest. “She was murdered and her body hidden somewhere so we wouldn’t find her.”

Every person at the table turned toward Rick. Only the grandfather clock in the adjoining room made any sound at all, when it chimed seven times.

“And how do you know that, Rick?” Beth asked in a matter-of-fact tone. “Unless you were there?”