“What if he comes back?”
She swept her arm toward the door. “If you’ll get my shotgun for me, I’ll give him a reception he won’t soon forget. I don’t think he’ll be back though. He could have killed me if he wanted to.”
She had a point. “I’ll get your gun. You go on to bed and I’ll bring it to your room.”
He waited to make sure she could navigate on her own, then slipped out the back door and walked across the moonlit yard to the barn, which was still faintly illuminated with the overhead light. The goats bleated at him as he went to where he’d found Dixie and grabbed the shotgun. As he started to return to the house, he noticed a card on the straw-littered ground and stopped to pick it up.
It was a business card for a restaurant favored by locals called Ruth and Wimpy’s Kitchen. He’d eaten there many times, and it was always packed, thanks to its homegrown fare of lobster prepared in myriad ways and the hefty sandwiches they served. He pocketed it and carried the shotgun back to the house.
He found Dixie in bed with the covers pulled up to her chin. Her gray hair was spread out on the pink pillowcase. Her eyes were sleepy, but she didn’t appear to be in any pain. After making sure the gun was loaded and ready, he propped it in a corner. “Sure you don’t want to go to town?”
“I’m positive.”
“You ever get over Hancock way? I found this.” He pulled the business card from his pocket and showed her.
She wrinkled her forehead. “I’m lucky if I make it to Summer Harbor to the library every six months. I can’t tell you the last time I ate anywhere but Dixie’s Diner. Heck, I feed half the population of Walker’s Roost every Saturday night.”
He’d heard of the ribs she made for family and friends in her kitchen on Saturdays, but he’d never been able to accept an invitation. “I’ll check out the restaurant, but it’s probably a dead end. Call if you hear anything. And you can thank Adelaide Wilson for me turning up. She saw your Facebook post.”
She rolled over on her side, and her eyes drifted shut. “It will just encourage her nosiness.”
She might have a point. Kevin grinned and pulled the bedroom door shut behind him.
SEVENTEEN
Moonlight filtered through the bedroom curtains. Mallory had tried to read awhile, but even the latest Denise Hunter romance couldn’t keep her attention from wandering downstairs to where Kevin slept. She shut off her e-reader and swung her legs out of bed. She eased open the door and slipped across the hall to the bathroom to wash off her makeup. Wait, she’d forgotten her bag of newly purchased toiletries in the car.
Stopping in the entry, she listened for a moment to make sure no one was stirring downstairs. She didn’t want her quick trip to her car to awaken anyone. Satisfied that everyone else was asleep, she tip-toed quietly down the stairs and unlocked the door to step onto the porch. A lump formed in her throat when she saw the pink moon. There were many nights when she was a child when she and her mom would sit on the hillside and watch for a splash of a mermaid tail. She’d been crushed when she found out mermaids were a myth, but old habits died hard, and she still had to look.
The porch boards shifted under her feet a bit as she went to the stairs and stepped down into the yard. The cold, wet grass chilled the soles of her feet, and she picked up the pace to her car. She’d left it unlocked, so she reached inside and grabbed the bag on the passenger side.
As she quietly shut the door and turned back toward the house, the hair on the back of her neck prickled. An almost atavistic fear made her rush for the porch as if a monster lurked in the shadows.
She took the steps in two strides, then stood with her chest heaving. A hand came down on her arm, and she nearly screamed until she realized it was Kevin.
She pulled out of his grip. “I just lost two years of my life.”
“Sorry. What are you doing out here by yourself?”
She held up her bag. “I wanted to wash my face.”
The moon threw light and shadow over him and made his face look even more rugged. He was still fully dressed, and his gun was strapped at his hip. “I would have gotten it for you. Wandering alone out here in the dark isn’t a good idea. Whoever burned down your house could be lurking around.”
She gave an uneasy glance into the shadows. “I was fine.”
His fingers closed over her arm again. “You have to be more careful.” His manner was still distant.
She searched his gaze. “I . . . I thought I felt someone watching me out there.” When he started that direction, she shook her head. “It was probably just my imagination after the stressful day.”
Her words didn’t deter him, and he bounded down the steps. “Get inside!” As he went, he switched on his flashlight and searched the shadows. His precise, careful motions showed her how good he was at his job. How many times had he conducted a sweep for intruders like this? Only it would have been at someone else’s house, not his own. What had she done by coming here?
She started for the door, then stopped. She wasn’t going anywhere. What if he needed her help? She pulled out her cell phone with her finger poised to punch in 911.
A few minutes later he emerged from the line of trees along the south side of his property and joined her on the porch. “I found a fresh impression in the grass by the woodshed. It looked like someone had been kneeling there recently.” He took her arm and grabbed the screen door. “I want you inside. He could have a gun.”
She let him propel her into the entry. Maybe she hadn’t been crazy. She wrapped her arms around herself and shuddered. “I shouldn’t stay here, Kevin. I’ve just put you and Sadie in danger. What if he burns down your house next? I should go.”
“We’re all going to be fine.”
“What does he want? I don’t understand any of this. I’m no threat, and I don’t have anything someone would want. Heck, I can barely make my mortgage some months.” She swallowed past the constriction in her throat and dropped her hands to her sides. “I’m going to find out though. I refuse to be terrorized.” She slanted a glance up at him. “You trust your private detective friend to find out where my birth mother is, right?”
“I called her back and told her what was happening here. She promised to drop everything and focus on your problem. She hopes to have some preliminary information by tomorrow night. It might not be much, but maybe it’ll be a start.”
Mallory rubbed her head where pain had begun to flicker. “It probably has nothing at all to do with my birth mother. The lead Dixie gave me about that guy Dad was arguing with is probably where I should focus.”
“Maybe someone else saw that man with your dad. We can poke around more tomorrow. For now, get some rest.”
“Who can sleep knowing someone was watching us again tonight?”
He opened the door for her. “I’ll stand guard.”
Of course he would. That was the kind of man he was. Even if he hated her now, he’d protect her. She went past him and rushed to her bedroom before he could bring up the past again.
So much had happened that Mallory barely thought about the letters she’d found from her birth mother, but as sunrise lit her room, she bolted upright in bed as she remembered she hadn’t lost them in the fire. They were in a packet under the passenger seat of her car.
The wood floor was cool under her bare feet as she got out of bed and pulled on a fluffy robe that Kate had brought over. The clock on the stand flipped to five, but she wasn’t a bit sleepy now.
She wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep until she had those letters safely inside. After sliding her feet into shoes, she opened her door and crept down the hall to the front door. The first gleams of sunlight streamed through the window. She unlocked the door and eased out. The last thing she wanted was to wake up Kevin.
The air smelled of dew, and the scent took her back to her childhood. When she was a little girl, her parents took her on a vacation every year, and they always left in the early-morning hours like this. She could still r
emember the excitement she had felt creeping out of the house before the sun began to peek over the horizon.
The grass drenched her feet as she hurried to her car and grabbed the manila envelope out from under the seat. With it safely in her hand, she breathed a little easier. It would have been a catastrophe if she’d lost it.
When she reached the front door, she heard a coughing sound and froze, but it was just a roaming coyote. She glimpsed a mangy coat and gleaming eyes. Kevin’s warning about rabies made her hurry to get back inside.
She closed the door and ran smack into someone. The warm hands that came down on her shoulders made her shiver. “Kevin, I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”
His hands left her shoulders. “I was already awake. I didn’t sleep much last night.” His deep voice rumbled in her ear. “I didn’t want to tell you earlier, but I got called out to a break-in.”
She listened to him tell her about the man who attacked Dixie and the strange comment implying that Mallory was in danger. “So that man arguing with Dad must be important.”
“Looks that way. I’m going to see if I can find the name of the boat. But what were you doing outside? I told you not to go out there by yourself.”
“It’s starting to get light so it was safe.” She held up the manila envelope. “Some letters from my birth mother as well as the adoption papers. Luckily I’d put them in the car. I wanted to make sure they were okay.”
He flipped on the hall light, and she blinked at the glare. “We might as well have coffee. Want some breakfast? How about you fix the coffee and toast, and I’ll make you an omelet that will make you weep for joy.”
His light tone lifted her spirits. Maybe he would let go of the strain between them. She smiled and punched him lightly in the side. “You’re putting too much pressure on me to make good coffee. How can I compete?”
“I’ve made it really easy for you. I have Captain Davy’s coffee and a Cuisinart coffeemaker. Even a child could make coffee that will make your eyes roll back in your head.”
Giggling, she followed him into the kitchen and laid the envelope on the table before moving to the coffee grinder. As the aroma of coffee filled the kitchen, he piled the ingredients for the omelet beside the cooktop.
She eyed the box. “Cream cheese?”
“Just you wait. Cream cheese makes the omelet.”
She watched his deft, practiced movements as he stood at the cooktop. His dark hair was spiky from sleep, and the muscles of his back and arms flexed as he flipped the omelet. Something long dead stirred in her again, and she wanted to flee. Or maybe what she really wanted was to move right into his arms and kiss him. There was danger in both scenarios playing through her head.
He raised a brow. “What? You’re looking at me weird.”
She turned away from his probing gaze and got two mugs from the cabinet. “Maybe it’s because I’m trying to summon the courage to cry when I taste that omelet. I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”
Her life had been spent disappointing people—her mom and dad, Kevin’s parents. Since that first horrendous mistake when she was twenty, her life had been one mistake after another. Though she didn’t regret her daughter, her marriage to Brian had been a disaster from the beginning.
“Cream?” Kevin waved the carton of whipping cream in front of her.
“Coffee without cream would be a sacrilege.” She took the carton and poured a generous amount in each mug, then carried them to the table.
The packet of letters caught her eye and she opened the flap. “My birth mother sent letters starting when I was about to turn five.”
Kevin carried two plates to the table and put one in front of her. “Have you read them all?”
She pulled out a chair and sat down. “I haven’t had time.” She removed the sheaf of letters and plucked one off the bottom. “I’ve read about ten so far. They are all written around the time of my birthday each year, and she just asks how I’m doing and assures me she thinks of me every day. It sounds like she sent a gift every time, though I don’t always remember what she says she sent. My parents never told me where the gifts came from.”
She took a bite of the omelet, and the taste of jalapeños, cream cheese, veggies, and cayenne hit her taste buds. The spicy heat bit her tongue and made her eyes water. “Wow, this is good. But it’s hot.”
He grinned and picked up his fork. “Told you it would make you cry.”
“I think that was a cheat.” She took another bite and looked at the letter. “This one would have been written about my sixteenth birthday.”
It all seemed like a waste of time. The sweet lady in these letters wouldn’t have hurt anyone, but her notes had succeeded in awakening the interest Mallory had stuffed away all these years. The thought of finding her birth mother terrified her and intrigued her all at the same time.
She sipped her last bit of coffee. “You going to go back to sleep?”
He shook his head. “I’ve got some paperwork to do. The girls will be up by six thirty to get ready for school, so I’ll fix pancakes when I hear them stirring.”
The chair scraped on the tile as she pushed back from the table. “I think I’ll go shower.” She needed a little time away from his distracting presence so she could think.
EIGHTEEN
The stench of burned pancakes was only barely discernible with the window open. Kevin dumped the contents of the skillet, wiped it out, and tried again. He needed to pay attention this time instead of trying to listen for the sound of Mallory’s bedroom door opening.
“Daddy, what did you do?” Sadie entered the kitchen with Fiona on the lead. She was still dressed in her pink princess pajamas, and her blonde hair cascaded in a tangle down her back.
“You can still smell the burned pancakes?” He waved his hand in the air.
“I think I’ll have cereal.”
“I can make some unburned ones. With real maple syrup.”
“I’d still rather have cereal.”
“Help yourself.” His inclination was always to wait on her, but he’d been told he was doing her no favors by not making her learn to do things on her own.
“Bowl,” she told Fiona.
The dog led her to the counter left of the sink, and Sadie reached up. Her fingers felt along the edge of the cabinet door to the handle. She opened the door and found a bowl, then reached into the next cabinet and located the cereal. Kevin started to get the milk for her, then checked himself again. Waiting, he watched her sidle along the counter to the refrigerator and take out the carton of milk. A few moments later and her cereal was ready. Her triumphant smile made it worth the agony of watching. Cereal in hand, she turned and counted off the steps to the table, then set down the bowl and pulled out the chair.
He heard footsteps and turned to see Haylie wander into the kitchen. She was already dressed in jeans and a swim-team sweatshirt. Her feet were bare, and her wet hair hung down her back.
“Pancakes?” he asked.
She wrinkled her nose. “I only have toast or yogurt in the morning. I have to stay in shape for swimming.”
There was something wrong in the world when a kid that young was concerned with staying skinny. He pressed his lips together and pointed the spatula at the refrigerator. “We have yogurt.”
“Sugar-free?”
“Sweetened with Stevia.”
She went to the fridge and turned with a frown on her pretty face. “These aren’t fat-free.”
He fixed her with a stare. “Your brain needs good fats. Eat it.” He handed her a spoon.
She shrugged and took the small tub of yogurt to the table. “Mom can get me some of the kind I like.”
He gritted his teeth and said nothing. Mallory was going to have her hands full with that one by the time she was seventeen. He poured maple syrup on his pancakes and carried the plate to the table. As he set it down, he heard the doorbell. The place was like Grand Central Station this morning. So much for a peaceful breakfast with all of them hold
ing hands and singing “Kumbaya.”
He nearly groaned when he saw his mother standing with Kate at the door. His glance slanted to Mallory’s closed door, and he prayed she’d stay in her room a little longer. The last thing he wanted was to subject her to his mother’s inquisition.
When he opened the door, his mother’s smile faltered. “Did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed?”
“Hi, Mom. Kate. You’re out and about early. I was out on a call until the wee hours.”
Kate sniffed. “Yum, we’re in time for coffee. And is that the delectable aroma of burned pancakes?”
He grinned, his irritation washing away. “I’ll dig the burned ones out of the trash if they smell that good. Come on in.” Nothing for it but to face the music.
He led the way back to the kitchen and went to the coffeepot. Maybe his mother would think Haylie was babysitting for Sadie and he wouldn’t have to explain.
“Grammy, are we going to lunch today?” Sadie asked. “Can my friend Haylie come too?”
“Of course, honey . . .” His mother’s voice trailed off and she gasped.
He turned with coffee cups in his hands to see Mallory standing in the hall. His mother would jump to the wrong conclusion, like always.
The smile froze on Mallory’s face, and she looked carefully from his mother to him. “Um, good morning.” She had dressed in jeans and a red long-sleeved T-shirt, but her feet were bare and her hair was still wet.
“Mallory.” His mother’s voice was flat. “I’m sorry about your father.” Her mouth was pinched as she reached for one of the cups Kevin held. She carried it to the table and sat next to Sadie.
“Thank you, Mrs. O’Connor. I’m sure it’s a shock to see me here, but there’s a good reason.” Mallory’s voice was strained. “You might not have heard what happened yesterday. Someone burned down my dad’s house.”
“Oh no!” Kate took the other cup of coffee from Kevin. “You’re all okay? Where’s Carol?”