Текст книги "Secrets of the Highlander"

Автор книги: Джанет Чапмен

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

“It’s legal for snowmobiles to travel on plowed roads?”

“Not really, but no one will bother you. We do it all the time.” Paul’s face suddenly reddened. “Leastwise, no one used to bother us. You gonna start enforcing that ordinance? ’Cause I gotta tell you, that would kill business downtown. Snowmobilers make up half of Pine Creek’s winter sales, especially at the restaurants.”

Jack gave him an easy smile. “I’ve only been here a week. I’m not sure yet which ordinances I’m supposed to enforce and which ones I’m not.”

Dempsey relaxed and started polishing the snowmobile again. “I’ve got a helmet that perfectly matches this paint. You show up in that and a black leather suit, and you’ll have to beat the snow bunnies off with a stick.”

Jack gave one last look at the ugly black workhorse, then held out his hand to Paul. “I’ll take this one,” he said, closing the deal with a handshake, “and I’ll pick it up tomorrow afternoon.” He reached inside his jacket for his wallet. “Is a check drawn on a Canadian bank okay? I haven’t set up with a bank account here yet.”

“I take credit cards.”

Jack shook his head. “I don’t use them. I’ll open an account tomorrow, get some money transferred, and bring you cash.”

Paul chuckled as he headed for the counter. “Don’t bother. I’ll take your check. I can’t imagine our police chief would try passing bad paper around town.” He started writing up the sales slip. “Say, what happened down at Marge’s bakery, anyway? Is it true the little bastards trashed the place?”

“Pretty much. Any little bastards in particular you referring to?”

Paul looked up with a frown. “Hell, everyone knows Tommy Cleary and his brothers are behind all our missing stuff.”

“Nothing of value was taken,” Jack told him. “Just a couple of pies and day-old doughnuts.”

“They swiped a snowblower off my lot about a month ago. Found it sitting on Main Street the next day, right in front of the Pine Creek Art Gallery.”

“Would that be Winter MacKeage’s place?” Jack asked as he took out his pen and began writing the check.

“She’s the owner and artist, though she’s a Gregor now. She married some rich bastard from away. They’re living in a cottage on the lake right across the cove from you, while they build a huge house up on Bear Mountain. Winter’s sister, Megan, has been running the gallery most of the fall.” Dempsey shook his head when Jack looked up. “Too bad about Megan.”

“How’s that?”

“She’s pregnant. Came home a little over four months ago, looking like a whipped puppy. Word is the bastard sent her packing when she told him she was having his kid.”

“A woman named Libby MacBain and an elderly lady were running the art gallery when I stopped in to introduce myself,” Jack said.

“The old lady would be Gram Katie, Libby’s mom. They’re minding the store because the MacKeages have a big shindig up at their place every Christmas. Old Greylen had seven daughters, the poor bastard, but he managed to get five of them married off. I think that leaves only the scientist who works down at NASA, and Megan.” He snorted. “I’m surprised Greylen didn’t go after the guy with a shotgun.”

“That his style, is it?”

Dempsey started writing some very large numbers on the sales slip. “The MacKeages are nice enough folks, but a bit strange. They’re like an old-fashioned clan from Scotland, and the MacBains are related to them somehow. If it weren’t for the lovely women they married, they’d be a bunch of cranky old hermits, living off in the woods someplace.”

“I’ve met Michael MacBain.”

“That would be Libby’s husband. He owns a Christmas tree farm just outside of town. You and Simon ever come into more trouble than you can handle, you call his son, Robbie. He was in the Special Forces for a while. He’s a good man to have on your side in a fight.”

“Thanks for the tip. So, what’s the damage?” Jack asked, peering down at the sales slip.

“That depends on if I have a leather suit that fits you,” Paul said, sizing him up. He walked over to a rack of black leather jackets. “You wear a large?”

“Yup. And medium pants.” Jack slipped on the jacket Paul held out to him and flexed his arms. “Feels good.”

“You might want a bigger size to cover that gun.”

Jack looked down at the revolver on his belt. “I’m going to have to do something about this damn thing. It’s been driving me crazy all week.” He took off the jacket. “This is fine. Medium on the helmet, too.” He walked back to the counter, set the jacket down, then walked over and sat on the snowmobile he’d just bought.

Yup, if this baby didn’t make him one of the locals, nothing would.

Megan came into the living room and plopped down in an overstuffed chair by the hearth, opposite her mother. “You are looking at a woman who is once again gainfully employed.”

“That quickly?” Grace asked in surprise. “Was it your credentials that got you the job, or was Mark Collins bowled over by your smile?”

Megan laughed. “It must have been my credentials, since Mark wasn’t even there. A secretary faxed him my résumé, he called back in twenty minutes, and we had a phone interview.”

“So is the position what you expected?” Camry asked from the couch, where she was coloring with Elizabeth’s almost-three-year-old son, Joel.

“Even better: I’ll be my own boss. Mark said he only expects to make it into the field a couple of times this spring and summer. Using the state’s criteria, I’m to design the survey—which Mark has to approve—then do the work and hand in the results next September.”

“What university is he affiliated with?” Grace asked.

“None. He owns a freelance environmental consulting firm that services large corporations worldwide, including paper and chemical mills, oil companies, mineral mines, and such. If a company wants to expand, they call Mark to do an impact study to meet governmental requirements. He called from his office in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.”

“And he’s got an office in Maine?” Cam asked.

“No. It turned out the address listed in the posting was the resort developer in Augusta. It was their secretary who put me in touch with Mark.”

“And he hired you without even bothering to check your references?” Grace asked.

“He remembered seeing my name affiliated with that pipeline oil spill study I headed up in Alaska four years ago,” Megan explained. “And I could hear a keyboard tapping over the phone, so he was probably doing an Internet search on me as we spoke. Mark said he prefers contracting with regional engineers and biologists when he can, because we’re familiar with the local regulations.”

“But you haven’t lived in Maine for ten years,” Grace pointed out.

Megan shrugged. “I listed Maine as my current residence.”

“Speaking of which,” Cam said, setting Joel on the couch so she could stand up. “Beth and I found you a place to live today. A couple she teaches with is moving, and they’re planning to rent out their house in Frog Cove with the option to buy. Beth and Chelsea are over there right now, negotiating your lease.”

Megan sat up straighter. “Where in Frog Cove? Is it on the lake?”

Cam nodded. “Out on the point. So if you buy a boat, you can travel to most of your work by water this summer. It’s perfect, Meg. There are two bedrooms downstairs and two more upstairs, it’s got a beautiful woodstove in the living room, and it has a great view of Bear Mountain. You can even see Winter and Matt’s cottage directly across the cove.” Cam batted her eyelashes. “And Jack Stone lives just three houses down.”

“I should warn you that your father isn’t happy about this,” Grace said, going to Joel, who had decided eating a crayon was more fun than coloring with it. “No matter how much I reasoned with him last night, I couldn’t convince Grey that going back to your fieldwork is exactly what you need right now.”

“Why is he so upset?” Megan asked. “It’s not like I’m moving to Siberia. I’ll only be eight or nine miles away.”

Grace sat on the couch with Joel on her lap. “He doesn’t like the idea of you living alone with a brand-new baby. He claims that back in the twelfth century, a man his age no longer had to worry about his daughters; he’d have married them off by sixteen and turned the worrying over to their husbands.” She chuckled softly. “He thinks society never should have done away with arranged marriages. He’ll eventually calm down, once he sees you’re able to manage everything—which I know you will.” She shot Meg a crooked smile. “But you’ll probably have to move back to Gù Brath when you get near your due date. Your father will camp on your doorstep if you don’t, ready to rush you to the hospital at your first contraction.”

“But you had us girls at home. And Beth had a midwife for Kadin and Joel. I’m using the same woman for my delivery.”

Grace sighed. “Let’s not mention that to your father just yet, okay? Let’s let him get used to your moving out, first.”

Camry plucked Joel off Grace’s lap. “Come on, Meg, let’s go see your new place. Beth and Chelsea and the owner are waiting for us.” She shot Meg a grin as she carried Joel out the front door. “Maybe we’ll even catch a glimpse of your sexy neighbor.”

“Did it ever occur to any of you that I might want to pick out my own place?” Meg asked as they crossed the bridge out front.

Cam led the way to Megan’s SUV. “Of course not. We know your tastes. Besides, we figured Dad couldn’t argue it’s not safe for you to live on a half-deserted camp road when you’re only three houses down from the police chief.”

Meg snorted. “Great. You’ve just moved me out of one macho-man environment into another.”

Megan gazed at the house her sisters had decided she should rent. “Okay,” she conceded to Camry, “you guys do know my tastes. It’s totally adorable.”

A couple of porch lights lit up what certainly appeared to be a perfect house on the outside. The shingles were stained gray, the shutters painted a dark green, and the front door—set inside a porch that ran the width of the house—was a deep, rich red. It stood nestled in a stand of old maple, birch, and hemlock on a spacious lot, its cottage-style architecture giving it a cozy, welcoming feel.

“I’ll have to buy a snowblower to keep the driveway neat, like it is now,” she said. “Plows make such a mess of everything.”

Cam arched an eyebrow. “Moved in already, have we?”

Elizabeth came out of the house, and Megan opened the back door of her truck to release Joel from his car seat. “Will someone please explain why they make these buckles so hard to open?” she grumbled, fighting the buckles.

Elizabeth pulled Megan out of the way and reached inside. “So the kids can’t unfasten them. Hey, big boy,” she said with a laugh, straightening with her son in her arms. “Has Auntie Cam been feeding you crayons again?”

“Go potty,” Joel said, wiggling to get down.

“Inside, not in the snowbank!” Beth said, rushing to catch him, then steering him toward the house.

“What is it with little boys and yellow snow?” Megan called after her.

“That’s his father’s doing!” Beth called back, scooping up her son to carry him up the steps. “Walter’s been teaching Joel to write his name in the snow.”

“You’re having a girl,” Camry declared as they walked up the path to the house. “You can teach her all about your plants and animals, and I’ll teach her to drive a spaceship.”

“Before or after she’s potty trained?” Megan asked—only to go utterly still the moment she stepped into the home of her dreams. “Oh my God,” she whispered, trying to take it all in. “It’s perfect.”

The interior had an open floor plan, the kitchen and living area combined into one large room divided by a counter peninsula. The walls were time-mellowed knotty pine, the hearth supporting the red enamel woodstove was made of river stone, and the floor, except for a small slate area at the entrance, was rock maple.

There wasn’t any furniture and no curtains covered the expansive windows facing the lake, which made the place feel amazingly large—despite the fact that the entire house would probably fit in Gù Brath’s living room.

“I guess you like it,” a woman said. “I’m Joan Quimby. I taught class across the hall from Beth,” she explained, holding out her hand.

“Why are you leaving this beautiful place?” Megan asked, returning the handshake.

“Bob and I are moving to Germany. I’m going to teach English to third graders and Bob will teach high school math. Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the house.” She headed toward a door on the left side of the living room. “There are two bedrooms down here with a shared bath, and two more upstairs with another full bath.” Joan stopped inside the lakeside bedroom and smiled apologetically. “The ones downstairs are a bit small, but I like having the larger living area.”

“Is there a deck facing the lake?” Megan asked, walking to the French doors on the back wall of the bedroom.

Joan flicked a switch and light flooded a snow-covered deck running the width of the house, as well as a large yard studded with old-growth trees.

“I see a dock pulled up on shore,” Megan said. “Do you have a boat?”

“Yes, a pontoon boat. It’s parked on the other side of the house, covered in snow.”

“Are you planning to sell it?”

“In the spring. Paul Dempsey over at PowerSports is going to come get it once the snow melts, and put it on his lot on consignment.”

“Tell him not to bother,” Megan said, walking back into the living room to find Chelsea and Camry, at the counter, reading what must be the lease.

Meg walked up and took the paper from them. “I’m not renting this house,” she said, smiling at their startled expressions. “I’m buying it.” She looked at Joan. “When are you and Bob leaving?”

Joan seemed even more shocked. “Um, we’re driving to Boston tomorrow and flying out the day after that.” She waved at the empty house. “You want to buy it? But you haven’t even seen the upstairs.”

“I’ve seen enough. Anything more is just a bonus. I’ll write you a check right now for your asking price, if you throw in the boat.”

“Meg,” Camry said, “what are you doing? Your job is going to last less than a year.”

“It doesn’t matter where my work might eventually take me; I still need a home base. I’ll sell my condo in Boston and move up here permanently.”

“Meg, you need to think about this,” Chelsea interjected. “You can’t just walk into a house and buy it in five minutes.”

“Why not?”

Nobody had a good answer to that.

“Then it’s settled,” Meg said, holding out her hand to Joan.

Joan pumped Megan’s arm excitedly. “Bob will be thrilled! We never thought we’d sell this place in the middle of the winter.” She took the lease and tore it up with a laugh. “You’re going to love it here, Megan. The sunrises are beautiful.”

The muted whine of a high-performance engine echoed off the bare walls, and the four women followed Joel over to the lakeside windows. A snowmobile shot out from the end of the point, and went zooming past the front of the house in a cloud of snow colored white and red from the head– and taillights.

“That must be our new police chief,” Joan said. “He moved into the Watson place about a week ago. I saw him driving what looked like a fancy new snowmobile when he came home just before dark.”

“Snow-bile!” Joel shouted, jumping up and down.

Chelsea nudged Megan with her elbow. “Maybe he’ll give you a ride if you ask him real nice.”

Megan walked back to the counter to dig through her purse for her checkbook. “You can deposit this tomorrow,” she said to Joan as she started to fill out the check. “It’s from my money market account. Um…how much?”

Her face turning a bit pink, Joan named a figure that made Megan suck in her breath. “I guess I haven’t been paying much attention to the real estate market lately. Ah, how about I make this out, but you give me three or four days to transfer some funds?”

“Good grief, Meg, this isn’t like buying a toaster,” Chelsea said, walking up to the counter. “Make the check out to my law firm in Bangor, and we’ll hold the money in escrow while the paperwork is being done. A deed has to be drawn up, and clear title to the property needs to be researched.” She looked at Joan. “Do you and Bob have a lawyer?”

“No. We were going to hire a real estate broker and let them take care of that stuff.”

“Then if you don’t mind, my law firm can act on both Megan’s and your behalf.”

“Is that legal?” Beth asked, bending down to pick up Joel.

“It’s sort of a gray area,” Chelsea said. “But this is a simple transaction, since Meg won’t have to obtain financing. Why don’t you and Bob stop in my office on your way through Bangor tomorrow, Joan? I’ll call them in the morning and have someone start the paperwork for you.” Chelsea took the check from Megan and handed it to Joan. “Give them this, and you may consider your house sold.”

“When can I move in?” Megan asked.

“You should probably wait until the deed is signed,” Chelsea said. “But it’s up to Joan and Bob.”

Joan picked up the keys on the counter and handed them to Megan. “After twenty-eight years of marriage, I know what Bob’s going to say. Welcome home, Megan and baby,” she said, lightly patting Megan’s belly. “This is a wonderful place to raise children.”

Chapter Five

E ven though there were disadvantages to having a large, overprotective family, there were also some very nice perks when one was five months’ pregnant and moving into a new house. While everyone had an opinion on what she needed to do and how she should do it, no one would let her lift anything heavier than her laptop. The only responsibility she’d had was to direct traffic when she and four large MacBain and MacKeage cousins went down to Boston and emptied her condo, and then stand back and watch them unload the truck in Maine.

Camry had decided that what was happening in Frog Cove was much more interesting than her work in Florida right now, considering that her latest attempt to harness ion propulsion had failed. Her job was somewhat an independent position; NASA supplied the lab and Camry contributed the brainpower. So Cam had called whomever she answered to and told them she was extending her vacation another week.

Great. It had been only three days since Megan had purchased her cozy little cottage, and she was ready to strangle her sister. Camry kept insisting she climb right back on the horse she’d fallen off when Wayne Ferris had broken her heart.

“I am not going over there with a pie you baked, to ask for a date,” Megan told her for the fourth time in as many minutes. Camry had actually baked an apple pie for Meg to present to her neighbor! Megan plopped into a chair in front of her still curtainless window facing the lake and glared at her sister. “And besides, what do you suppose his reaction will be when he sees my belly? He’s going to wonder what sort of woman gets knocked up by one man, then starts looking for a replacement before the kid’s even born.”

“I’m not asking you to propose to the guy,” Cam countered. “I’m only following up on Chelsea’s suggestion to use him for practice.”

“She made that suggestion to you.”

“Camry, leave your sister alone,” Grace said, walking out of the bedroom, her arms full of packing material. “Meg doesn’t want to date anyone. She wants Wayne.”

“Good God,” Cam said in a strangled voice, jumping to her feet. “You’re hoping Ferris will come after her. You think he’s going to show up here any day now, hat in hand, and beg her to take him back.”

Megan also jumped up, horrified. “Mom! Is that true?”

“It’s been four months,” Camry said. “He’s not coming.”

“Is it true?” Megan repeated. “All this time, you’ve been thinking Wayne’s going to suddenly show up here?”

“Would you take him back if he did?” Grace asked softly.

“No!” Cam said before Megan could. “The bastard broke her heart!”

Grace continued looking at Megan.

Megan shook her head.

“But what if Wayne realizes he made a mistake?” Grace asked. “You two had only known each other a little over a month, camping in tents out on the tundra in an isolated corner of the world.” She set the packing material down and walked up to Megan. “What if once Wayne got back to his empty home, he realized he needs you in his life? What if he’s been as miserable as you’ve been?”

“You have no idea of the things he said to me that day.” Megan took a shuddering breath. “Wayne made it perfectly clear that he wanted nothing to do with me or our child. I begged him, Mama, to give us a chance, but it was like he suddenly turned into a completely different person. I—I actually became afraid of him,” she whispered. “I couldn’t pack my bags and get out of there fast enough.”

“What do ye mean, you were afraid of him?” Her father came out of the bedroom carrying several collapsed boxes. He dropped them by the door and walked up to Megan, taking hold of her shoulders. “Did he hurt you, daughter?”

“No, Daddy. He just…” She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned against his chest with a sigh. “He just turned into somebody I didn’t like anymore.”

Jack sat on his snowmobile and sipped hot cocoa from his Thermos. He was parked on the lake about a hundred yards from shore, the moonless night making him nearly invisible while offering him a perfect view of what was going on inside his neighbor’s living room.

He’d finally figured out how to approach her, but he was no closer to catching Megan alone than he was to catching whoever had broken into the bakery. He could accept not making any headway on the vandals, considering that every doughnut addict within fifty miles of Pine Creek had left their fingerprints in that bakery, and forensics still hadn’t identified that foul-smelling slime.

As for Megan, Jack couldn’t believe his luck when Bob and Joan Quimby had come over to say good-bye and told him that a lovely woman named Megan MacKeage had purchased their house. And by the way, she was five months’ pregnant and single, so could he maybe keep an eye on her?

But she was always surrounded by people. Megan had enough aunts and uncles and cousins and in-laws to populate a small city; he’d been tripping over MacBains and MacKeages in town for the last two weeks. And her only unmarried sister, Camry, was staying at her house at night.

Jack figured his legendary patience would survive only two or three more days before he got desperate enough to kidnap the woman. He really hated it when a hunt ended that way; things had a tendency to get messy, and he always felt he’d somehow failed. He snorted. Catching their new police chief with a local lady bound and gagged in his cruiser would certainly go over well with the fine folks who’d hired him.

Assuming Greylen MacKeage didn’t kill him on sight.

“What year was Wayne born, and where?” Cam asked.

Megan added a handful of marshmallows to her cocoa, then turned to look at her sister sitting on the couch. Their parents had left twenty minutes ago, and Megan and Camry had declared a truce—for now. “Why?”

“I’m Googling him, but apparently Wayne Ferris is a popular name.” Cam continued typing on the laptop sitting on the coffee table. “It would help if I knew when and where he was born.”

Megan walked over and sat down to look at the screen, intrigued despite herself. “Why are you searching Wayne?”

Cam shrugged. “Just curious. Where’s he from?”

“Alberta, Canada. He lives a couple hundred miles northeast of Edmonton…in Medicine Lake, I think he said.”

“Oohhh, he likes it cold and remote, does he? Maybe that’s where he buries the bodies,” Cam said, making a frightened face as she hit a few more buttons.

“When did Wayne graduate to being a serial killer? I told you, he isn’t violent.”

“Most serial killers aren’t, outwardly. Haven’t you seen those interviews with neighbors saying how they can’t believe it, that ‘he was such a nice, quiet man’?” Cam turned to Megan. “I understand why you wouldn’t have said anything to Mom and Dad, but it’s just you and me now. So when Wayne suddenly changed into a different person, did he get rough with you?”

“He got…At first he just stared in disbelief when I told him I was pregnant, then he hugged me, and then he turned around and walked out without saying a word. I have no idea where he slept that night. The next morning he showed up at the kitchen, led me by the hand to his tent, and told me to pack up my stuff and get the hell out of there before sunset.”

“With no explanation?”

“None.” Megan blew on her cocoa, staring off into space. “He refused to even talk about the baby that morning. He was so frighteningly soft-spoken. You know, like how Dad gets when he’s really mad at one of us and is trying not to explode?”

“He only gets like that when we do something dumb that he thinks is dangerous. He’s reacting out of fear.”

“Exactly. I think Wayne was scared to death, once he realized what having a baby meant. Mom was right; we were in an isolated little world of our own for those six weeks. And when he thought about us returning to civilization, he panicked.”

“So the weasel showed his true colors.” Camry started typing again. “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, Meg, but you’re better off without the jerk. You still didn’t say if he hit you or not.”

“He didn’t hit me.” Megan stood and walked to the window. “But he sure as hell scared me.” She turned back to Cam. “And you know I don’t scare easy. But there had been an accident two days before I discovered I was pregnant, and the tension in camp was high for everyone. One of the Canadian government workers who was monitoring our study died.”

“How? You were counting geese and caribou, for Pete’s sake. What could possibly happen in the middle of the tundra?”

“We don’t know how it happened. Somebody found the guy lying facedown in a small pond. He had apparently drowned during the night.”

“And you’re thinking that’s why Wayne reacted the way he did?”

Megan shrugged. “If so, it doesn’t explain why I haven’t heard from him since.”

“Exactly,” Cam said, looking back at the screen.

“Hey, how are you getting on the Internet, anyway? I haven’t had a phone installed yet.”

“The whole house is wi-fi. Joan and Bob had a high-speed cable connection, and they must have forgotten to shut it off. So you’ve got cable TV, too.” Camry made a sound of disgust. “I’ve found your Wayne Ferris, but the info on him only goes back five years.”

Megan returned to the couch, studying what Cam had found. “That’s him. He went to undergraduate school in British Columbia and got his master’s degree in Toronto.” She reached over and scrolled down the page, reading what little was there. “I wonder why there’s nothing else?”

“Maybe because Wayne Ferris didn’t exist until five years ago?” Cam said. “You knew him what, six weeks? Did he ever talk about his childhood?”

“Not much, now that you mention it. He had this way of always turning the conversation back to me.”

Cam rolled her eyes. “Every woman’s dream guy, and you fell for him hook, line, and sinker.”

“I do know he was raised by his grandfather,” Meg defended. “Or maybe his great-grandfather? His parents were killed in a car accident when he was nine. I think he was in it, because he’s got burn scars on his hands, but I could never get him to talk about it. I do remember him saying something about inheriting the house in Medicine Lake.”

Megan noticed the headlights of a fast-moving sled racing back to shore. “Jack Stone sure likes his new snowmobile,” she said, “He’s been out riding again.”

“Good. Come on,” Camry said, leading Megan to the counter. “It’s time you got Wayne Ferris out of your head once and for all.” She picked up the pie she’d baked and shoved it in Megan’s hands. “We are going over to Jack Stone’s house right now, and you’re asking him out.”

Megan shoved the pie back at her. “No.”

“Yes, you are,” Camry said. Then she sighed. “Okay, you don’t have to ask him out. But we’re going over there to introduce ourselves. You really need to see that nice guys still exist, Meg.”

“We don’t know that Jack Stone is a nice guy.”

“Chelsea liked him.”

Megan rolled her eyes. “She only saw him walking to his cruiser. For all we know, he’s a womanizing, chest-beating caveman who thinks women should stay at home, barefoot and pregnant.”

Camry laughed as she put on her coat and boots. “Then he should love your belly.” She walked over and took the pie while giving Megan a critical inspection. “When was the last time you had a haircut?”

“Never mind my hair,” Meg said, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. Dammit, when Camry got like this, the only way to shut her up was to play along to make her think she’d won. “Okay, I’ll go. But I’m not asking him out, and we’re telling him you made the pie.”

“But if he knows I baked it, that’ll defeat its purpose.”

“Not if he gets food poisoning, it won’t.”

“Fine, then,” Camry said, storming out the door. “If he really is as cute as Chelsea said, I’ll ask him out.”

Chapter Six

J ack was just stepping in the shower when he heard a knock on his kitchen door. He didn’t know anyone well enough who would drop by for a beer, and he was off duty; Simon needed to quit running to him with inane questions.

The knock sounded again, a bit louder.

With a growl of defeat, Jack wrapped a towel around his waist and strode out to the kitchen. “Dammit, Pratt, you better be here to tell me you caught the bastards.”

But as the door swung fully open, Jack found himself staring into the startled, bright green eyes of a woman holding a pie. He also saw Megan MacKeage as still as a stone slightly behind her, her complexion pale in the porch light.

“W-Wayne?” Megan whispered.

“Shit,” Jack growled at the exact same time.

“Wayne?” echoed the woman in front.

“Megan, sweetheart,” Jack said, stepping outside. He slipped on the ice-glazed snow covering the porch, and grabbed the railing to keep from falling.

Megan stepped back, turned, and bolted into the night.

“Dammit, no! Megan! Don’t run!” Jack shouted, taking a better grip on his towel to go after her.

But the other woman grabbed his arm. “Wayne Ferris?” She drew back and hurled her pie directly at his face. “You no-good, rotten bastard! You stay away from my sister!” She turned and ran after Megan—but first snatched the towel off his hips, tossing it in the snowbank as she disappeared into the darkness.