Peppermint Creek Inn Page 6

  “I’m glad you did, Officer?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m forgetting my manners. Jack. Jack Clarke.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Jack Clarke.”

  “Pleased to meet you, too, Mrs. Brady.”

  Was he fishing? She decided to swallow the bait. Hook. Line. And sinker.

  “Miss,” she replied.

  “Really?” A pleasantly satisfied smile crossed his lips and he handed her back her license. You know I shouldn’t be doing this, Miss Brady.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Escorting you to your class. Where is it?”

  Sara told him then she asked, “You’re not going to write me a ticket?”

  “No way. Not after what you’ve done for the auction. Just stay close behind me, okay?”

  Sara laughed, not believing her good luck. “Sure.”

  They sped quickly but efficiently through the traffic jams. Within minutes, he led Sara into the parking lot of the university campus with a few minutes to spare.

  “This is unbelievable,” Sara said excitedly as she lifted her briefcase out of the car and slammed the door shut. Turning to the officer, she was once again struck by his cornflower blue eyes and his wonderful smile.

  “I really do appreciate your help, Officer Clarke. I’m in your debt.”

  “Please call me Jack. And it was nothing.”

  “Oh, believe me, it was something. They close the doors to the exam rooms promptly at eight. If I arrive late, I automatically get a failing grade.”

  “In that case I’m glad I could help you out, Miss Brady.”

  The hot way he stared at her made Sara blush.

  “Thank you very much again for your help, Jack. It was really sweet of you. I guess I’d better get going now.”

  Hesitantly she turned, not wanting to leave him just yet but knowing she had to or she wouldn’t get into the exam room.

  “Miss Brady?”

  “Yes,” she whirled around so quickly she almost lost her balance.

  “I shouldn’t be doing this, but can I get your number?”

  Her heart pounded crazily in her chest. Her knees suddenly felt weak.

  “You already have my number.”

  A puzzled expression fell across his face and a moment later, he brightened.

  “Oh, yeah, I forgot. On the paperwork accompanying the paintings.” He waved. “Good luck on your exam. I’ll call you.”

  And he did.

  That very night.

  Theirs was a whirlwind romance. Inside a year, they were married. Soon after, they decided to have a family. Jack quit the force and they moved out of New York City, heading north into Canada to purchase the Peppermint Creek land from a friend who knew a widow who’d offered it at a price they couldn’t refuse.

  And then they tried for a family.

  Nothing happened.

  They tried some more.

  Still nothing.

  Finally, they were both checked out by the doctor. Bad news had come in its worst form. Jack had an unusually low sperm count. The chances of getting pregnant the natural way were slim or next to nothing.

  With the doctors encouragement they tried artificial insemination. After numerous unsuccessful tries, they finally gave up, resigning to waiting possibly many years to adopt. It wasn’t too long after, Sara discovered she was pregnant and by the old-fashioned method.

  She remembered his reaction when the doctor first told them on that sunny summer day they were pregnant.

  “Twins? We’re going to have twins?” Jack spluttered.

  The doctor nodded slowly and smiled at both their shocked expressions.

  “A baby. Oh, no, two babies! It totally blows my mind.” He ran a trembling hand through his wheat blond hair.

  “How do you think I feel? I thought I had the flu for the last month.”

  “Some flu. This is unbelievable.” He twirled the hairs on his large mustache. An endearing gesture he used whenever stumped. Unexpectedly he let out a loud joyful whoop that quite visibly frightened the doctor and made her laugh. Suddenly he was taking her into his arms, swinging her around and around until she felt dizzy.

  “Jack! Put me down,” Sara pleaded.

  He stopped and placed her feet delicately but firmly on the ground. His arms tightened around her waist as he gazed lovingly into her eyes. “I love you, Sara. I love you so much I could die.”

  A tremendous jolt shook them both and suddenly Jack tensed in her arms. Then he was falling. Blood pouring from a bullet hole between his eyes. Sara screamed. And screamed.

  Sara awoke in a cold sweat and alarm rippling along her nerves. A frosty sense of foreboding settled over her, making her shiver in the gray light of dawn.

  The horrible dream was back.

  Please, she prayed, wiping away the tears streaming down her cheeks. Don’t let the dream start again. Don’t let it start!

  —

  Sara spent the entire day trying to forget the horrible nightmare as she busied herself with getting together some more orders of peppermint products for the general store in town. The locals may think she was crazy, but it didn’t prevent them from buying her products.

  Late in the morning, Tom woke to eat a hearty bowl of vegetable soup and a huge chunk of her homemade bread then drifted off into his nightmare-infested dreams once more. By late evening he looked halfway healthy.

  His eyes burned bright with curiosity and his stomach was eager to chow down another bowl of vegetable soup, some mashed potatoes and Jell-O. Despite her protests and warnings that it may still be too heavy on his stomach, he managed to finagle a huge chunk of pound cake out of her.

  She stood at the foot of his bed enjoying the way he wolfed down the last bite of his second helping. It was then she decided to ask the one nagging question she’d been dying to ask.

  “Who gave you the note with my name on it?”

  He stopped chewing and threw her a suspicious look.

  “I wasn’t snooping,” Sara said, suddenly feeling guilty. “I was just looking for some identification. I found the note in your pocket.”

  He nodded. “I guess I’d do the same.”

  “Do you remember anything as to why someone would send you here?”

  Disappointment coursed through her as he shook his head. “No. The note is the only clue I have. I don’t even know if it has anything to do with me. I might have picked it up somewhere.”

  “I might have an idea.”

  At her comment, his head snapped up so quickly that he winced in pain, but his eyes shone with eager anticipation.

  “But you aren’t going to like it,” she added.

  He frowned. “Tell me anyway. Anything’s better than having this horrible blank spot in my brain.”

  “While you were delirious you said things.”

  “Things?” he asked cautiously.

  “You gave me the impression the police don’t have a high opinion of you.”

  He frowned and her heart ached for him. “You may as well just say it. I’m a criminal.”

  “I see you’ve already come to that conclusion.”

  She came around to the side of the bed and sat down. “Any ideas you’d like to share?”

  He nibbled thoughtfully on his lower lip as if trying to decide if he should tell her something.

  “Mrs. Clarke—”

  “Sara.”

  “Okay. Sara—” he tried a half-concerted smile “—I’m afraid I might be dangerous to you. I mean by the way I attacked you with the gun.” He hesitated for a moment then continued. “And I’ve also had dreams. Dreams where I’m doing illegal things like paying off pimps and buying drugs and—”

  “I know.”

  The look of surprise on his face made Sara laugh. “Like I said, you’ve been talking in your sleep. From what I can guess, I think you might have been sent here to get help from my father-in-law. He’s a criminal defense lawyer and my sister is a private investigator. We can ask her to investigate what happ
ened to you.”

  A frightened look shot across his face. Then all too quickly it vanished and he promptly tried to change the subject.

  “Are your father-in-law and your husband away on business?”

  “Actually he doesn’t live here anymore.”

  “Your husband?”

  “Garry. My father-in-law.” She opted not to mention her husband. Maybe if he thought she had a husband he wouldn’t get any funny ideas about jumping her bones the first chance he got.

  And she could stop thinking about jumping his, too, especially after getting such a close and intimate exploration of his gorgeously, almost too long cock. After all, he was a stranger and a criminal. He’d confessed as much.

  “Garry lives in New York City. His being a criminal lawyer and you being a—” She caught herself before saying the word “criminal”. “You being in need of some help. It’s the only thing I can think of as to why someone might send you here.”

  “Maybe they wanted me to try your delicious peppermint tea,” he joked and suddenly his eyes fluttered sleepily.

  “Maybe,” she said softly and smiled as his eyes closed and a few minutes later, his chest rose and fell slowly.

  Shoot. She’d lost him to sleep once again.

  She didn’t have anything more to go on now than she had before except he seemed comfortable with the idea of being a criminal, but not at all comfortable with the idea of seeing a criminal lawyer.

  Perhaps she was being naive, but after the way he’d been treated by the police, wouldn’t he welcome a helping hand from a lawyer? Unless—

  Sara frowned at a new idea taking hold. Unless he was afraid of what a private investigator might find out and even a good lawyer wouldn’t be able to save him.

  —

  The gray New York moonlight glistened brilliantly off the NY Chief of Police’s white hair making it easy for Detective Pauline Brown to spot him. He was standing in the wide-open space near the towering oak tree at the north end of the park.

  She wished they hadn’t picked this particular park to meet. It was the closest to the cop station and there was a good chance someone would be lurking around watching them. Ever since that unfortunate incident last week when they’d been caught red-handed by that fool Matt, she’d been a nervous wreck. For one week, they’d waited on pins and needles, expecting all hell to break loose. But it hadn’t.

  Tonight she’d received the call they’d been waiting for. Unfortunately, it was bad news. Really bad news. She didn’t want to be the one to tell the chief, but she had no other choice. He wasn’t going to like this. Not one bit.

  She frowned and walked briskly toward Chief Jeffries, her high heels clattering loudly against the cobblestone. A chilly gust of night air rumpled her long, straight blonde hair into a momentary static frenzy. The cold air made her clutch her Spring jacket closer to her chest as she approached the white-haired man.

  Instantly she spotted the happy smirk plastered on his face. She hated his positive attitude. Overconfidence, especially at a time like this, was extremely dangerous. It allowed people to make mistakes. Real stupid mistakes.

  “I trust you have some good news for me, Paulie.”

  “I got here as soon as I could.” Pauline forced a smile as she planted a kiss on his cheek. “What did you find out about our man?”

  “They had him.”

  “Where?”

  “A ghost town called Jackfish, a few miles outside of the hick town Rainbow Falls. A couple hours outside of Thunder Bay. Sound familiar?”

  “Like in Ontario, Canada? Where Justin lives?”

  She nodded.

  His face broke into an enormous smile and he rubbed his hands together with eager anticipation.

  “So, he went up to Canada, did he? Did he honestly think he could escape me by hiding in the Canadian woods? Wait a minute. What do you mean they had him?”

  “He escaped.”

  To her shock, the chief smiled. “Really? Well, I like a good game of cat and mouse.”

  Pauline blinked a few times. She hadn’t expected this. There was a wanted man on the loose. A man who knew everything about what shady dealings they were involved in, and everything could explode around them any minute and the chief was in a happy mood? It was beyond her comprehension.

  His eyes narrowed into tiny suspicious slits. “C’mon now, don’t hold it back. What else?”

  “They were holding him at the ghost town, waiting for Scout to get there and pump the information out of him when he escaped. A local cop went missing. He was last seen chasing after our man in the wilderness. Justin thinks our man killed him.”

  His smile widened. “Really? We’ll just have to add that to our man’s wanted list. I want you to head up that way and keep a lid on things with Justin. We need our man alive until we get what we want.”

  “There’s more.”

  His white bushy eyebrows shot up in wonder. “Still more?”

  Pauline nodded. “Justin says our man has amnesia.”

  “How interesting.”

  “Don’t you find that a little too convenient, Chief?”

  “He always was a smart fellow. But he wouldn’t pull a stupid trick like that. Not unless it was true. You should know him better than anyone.” He draped a comforting arm across her shoulder. “Don’t worry though. You’ll be his widow soon enough.”

  “What should we do next?” she asked, suddenly shivering in the chilly breeze. Or was it from his cold touch?

  “Find him. Hold him for questioning. Then he, along with any potential witnesses, must be eliminated.”

  Pauline shivered violently as the seriousness of his words reached home. She wished it was over and not just beginning.

  —

  Dark, narrow alleyways, seedy smoky bars, traffic congested, smog-infested streets, hooker and drug dealing neon nights in which he felt numb, oddly not a part of.

  And yet, here he stood talking and laughing with the professional ladies of the evening, buying their pimps drinks, lugging back a few himself just to be sociable. Paying off crooked cops with astronomical amounts of money in return for favors, dancing with some tall, sexy, blond bombshell he didn’t even like.

  Another dark night lured him deeper…

  He was trapped in a suffocating, cold, black, damp room. Someone was leaning over him, checking to see if he was still alive after the violent beating they’d given him. Ash gray cigarette smoke twirled crazily on the night breeze, floating toward heaven, escaping through the tiny cracked openings in the rotting, sagging moss-covered ceiling.

  How he wished he could escape the cold and these miserable handcuffs that burned raw fire deep into his wrists. He yearned to hop onto a smoke particle, using it as a magic carpet and quickly drift out of this hellhole.

  The cigarette smoke hugged his clothes, seeped into his skin. The tart smell lingered in his nostrils, made his nose itch, burned a scratchy trail down his throat.

  He could even taste it!

  Tom’s eyes snapped open.

  Raw orange sunlight bore shards of pain deep into his eyes sockets. Yet he couldn’t blink.

  The shadow stood there. A black silhouette.

  Right there! Outside the window. Watching him sleep.

  For a split second, he figured he must still be in the trenches of his dream. But the unmistakable cigarette smoke curled like a billowing gray cloud through the open screen window, striking his face with offending odor. He swallowed back a cough. Cold perspiration shot across his forehead at lightning speed.

  The shadow moved slightly, as if realizing it had been spotted.

  Then it disappeared.

  He wanted to laugh. Downplay what he’d just seen. Tally it up to some weird daydream, a side effect to the familiar pounding gripping his right temple. But the cigarette-scented air wouldn’t allow him to let it go so easily.

  Sara!

  Was she in danger?

  Bolting upright, he bit back a groan as pain sliced a sizzling
arrow through his back and belly, yet he counted on it. Welcomed it. Used it to keep his mind focused on Sara, and not the paralyzing panic gripping his insides. He whipped aside the blankets and swung his weak legs out of the bed.

  The room tilted precariously for a few seconds then everything righted itself. Gritting his teeth, he hoisted himself off the bed.

  He hadn’t gotten a good look at the person. But it hadn’t been Sara. He didn’t know how he knew she didn’t smoke, he just did.

  Adrenaline surged into his limbs urging him to run. To find her. To protect her from danger. Yet he couldn’t bolt out of his room blindly, possibly rushing headlong into the enemy. He’d be useless if he got caught.

  And Sara would be dead.

  Despite the panic edging into his system, he knew he needed to stay calm. Assess the situation. Proceed with caution.

  Thoroughly expecting trouble, the tiny hairs on his neck prickled to attention as he stumbled naked to the open window where the shadow had stood only moments earlier.

  Leaning his bandaged hands on the inside sill, he pressed his face against the screened window and looked out. Nothing moved. Only the tall blades of green grass in the lush meadow swayed as the wind sailed against them.

  If anyone had been here, they’d gone around the side of the house.

  Grabbing the first thing he could, a pink towel draped over a nearby chair, he wrapped it securely around his hips. If he had to make a run for it, at least he’d be presentable to the surrounding forest.

  With a trembling hand, he reached out and grabbed the steak knife on the twig table, then limped across the floor to inch the door open slowly. Seeing no one, he tiptoed into the quiet hallway.

  The unmistakable aroma of fresh baked bread filtered into his nostrils. His stomach growled in hunger, but it was instantly pushed aside by the acrid taste of fear in his mouth as he moved quickly down the hallway and into a cozy living room. He barely registered the pull-out sofa with the neatly made up bed before he headed for the adjoining kitchen and stopped short as he spotted the giant sheet of plywood nailed over the broken window. Had Sara done the repairs herself? Or had she asked someone to come out? Perhaps that’s who’d been at his window. A handyman taking a drag.