Cry in the Night (30 page)

“I watched a show on TV a few months ago,” Sheila said. “I thought of Rob when I saw it. According to the show, most people caught up in embezzlement have every intention of paying the money back—they think of it as a temporary loan. Then it gets out of hand and they’re in too far before they know it.”

“This will kill Anu,” Naomi said softly.

Bree nodded. “Hilary too.” She rubbed her forehead. “I’m going to have to tell them.” It wasn’t a conversation she was looking forward to.

She’d just finished her second carrot muffin when her cell phone rang, and she saw Mason’s name on the caller ID. “Hey, what’s up?” she asked.

“Palmer has agreed to talk to you. Since he’s so far away, I’ve arranged for a phone conversation. Hang on, and I’ll patch you through.”

Bree held up a finger to Naomi, then moved to the living room where it was quiet, leaving Olivia in the kitchen with the women. She heard a click, then distant voices. “Hello? Palmer?”

“Hang on,” a gruff voice said.

The next moment Palmer was on the other end. “That you, Bree?”

It had been two years since she’d seen him or heard his voice. The last time had been at his trial. How did she talk to an old friend who’d tried to kill her and her son? “Yes, I’m here. I-I have something I need to ask you.”

“Ask away. You got me out of a nasty work detail.” He laughed and his voice held a forced cheerfulness.

“Rob isn’t dead, Palmer. He walked away from the plane and never came back.” She told him what Rob had told her.

“You mean I’m sitting in this stinking prison and he’s not even dead?” Palmer’s voice rose.

“You killed Faye Asters,” she reminded him. “You tried to kill me and Davy.”

“All to cover up Rob’s death.” He sounded like he was gritting his teeth.

“Look, I need to know who else was on the plane when it took off. Someone else died in that crash. Whoever it was wore Rob’s jacket, and that’s how he was misidentified.”

“I wondered where that other body went,” Palmer muttered. “I figured animals got it.”

“Did you kill him too? Who was it?” she demanded.

“No, I didn’t kill him, at least not on purpose. Rob agreed to let him catch a ride home at the last minute.”

“Who?”

“Cop by the name of Henry Boxer. He showed up to talk to Rob but fell in the river on the way there. Looked like a drowned rat. Rob loaned him his jacket. I guess that’s how he came to be wearing it.”

Bree closed her eyes. She didn’t know Henry, but his family would be able to get closure. She knew well the agony of wondering what happened to a loved one. Sometimes it wasn’t what you thought.

23

LOW-HANGING CLOUDS ACCUMULATED IN THE WEST, AND the breeze freshened where Quinn stood in the drift-covered meadow. A snowstorm was coming. Maybe it would help him. He’d pray if he thought it would do any good, but he’d long ago turned his back on what little faith his mother had instilled in him.

He glanced at his watch. Nearly three. Jenna should be here with Davy any minute. How would he tell the boy who he was? In his heart of hearts, the man who used to be Rob Nicholls hoped his son would recognize him. That a sliver of love still existed.

A bark drifted toward him. It sounded like Samson. Surely Jenna hadn’t brought the dog. The bark came again, then Samson bounded into the meadow. The snow came to his chest and he was relishing the contact. His destination seemed to be Quinn’s side. Dogs never forgot and still loved after many years. Especially one with a heart as big as Sam’s.

“Here, boy,” Quinn said, whistling. He could properly greet the dog, something he hadn’t been able to do the other times they’d come in contact with one another.

Samson leaped through the snow with his tail swishing furiously. He reached Quinn and leaped up, putting his paws on Quinn’s chest. His excited barking was a shot of adrenaline. At least someone was glad to see him. He seized Samson’s head in his hands and roughed it up in their long-ago pattern of greeting. Bending down, he let the dog lick his cheek.

He heard the sound of voices and glanced up to see Jenna and a young boy skiing toward him. His heart squeezed at the realization he was about to come face-to-face with the son he’d thought was dead. With the earflaps down on his hat, and the collar of his coat pulled high, not much of his face was exposed to the cutting wind. Would Davy recognize the little he could see?

The last time Quinn had seen him, Davy was three. This young boy resembled the toddler he remembered, but he was taller, stronger. The shape of his face was more boyish and less babyish. But the eager grin was still all Davy.

The child stopped in front of him. Jenna remained a few feet away. Her eyes held a sharp gleam, and a smug smile pulled at her mouth. He wished she weren’t watching. Things were going to be hard enough without her butting in.

“Hello,” he said, smiling down at his son. The boy was his, not Kade Matthews’s.

“Hi,” Davy said. “Sam acts like he knows you.” His gaze traveled back to Quinn’s face, and his eyes held a question.

Should he tell Davy now? Or wait until he had him to safety? Quinn glanced at the clouds that were dragging lower. The snow would begin any time. There wasn’t time to get into a long discussion.

“You’re Davy Nicholls,” he said. “I . . . I know your mother.”

“It’s Dave Matthews,” the boy corrected with his chin tipped up. “Davy is a baby name. You can call me Dave if you want though.”

Quinn wanted to laugh at the solemn assertion. It stung a little that Dave was so adamant about his last name now. He could tell from the way the boy studied his face that there was a memory trying to surface. Better not let it just yet.

He held out his hand. “Come with me, Dave. We’re going to go on a little trip.”

His son drew back. “I’m not allowed to go with strangers.”

At the sound of the edge in his voice, Samson’s tail stopped wagging. The dog sidled closer to the boy and planted his front paws as if to block access to Dave.

Maybe he’d have to reveal everything to avoid a struggle. Quinn didn’t want to have to fight Dave and Sam too.

“Son,” he said. “I’m not a stranger.” He squatted to put himself at eye level with Dave. Ripping the hat from his head, he asked, “Do you remember where you’ve seen me before?”

Dave chewed on his lip. “You look a little bit like pictures of my first dad. He died in a plane crash though. Are you related to him?”

Maybe that was the easiest explanation. “Kind of related, yes,” he said.

“Why haven’t I seen you at Grammy’s then?” the boy went on, his voice doubtful.

“Look at me, Dav—Dave,” he said, catching himself before the old nickname could slip out. “You know who I am if you let yourself.”

“You’re a windigo,” Davy whispered. “You’ve taken over my daddy’s body. That’s it, isn’t it?” His voice grew louder, more fearful.

The fur on Samson’s back raised, and a rumble started in his chest. Recognition or no, the dog would protect the boy against anyone. “Easy, Sam,” he said.

“You call him Sam,” Davy said. “No one calls him Sam but me and my daddy. You
are
a windigo!” He backed up a step. The dog kept pace with him and kept his body between Quinn and the boy.

“There’s no such thing as a windigo,” Quinn said. “I am your dad, son.”

“No, he’s dead!” Davy backed up several more feet. His lips moved, and the words
God
and
help
came through in whispered gasps.

“Davy, it’s all right. I’m really your dad. I didn’t die in the plane crash.”

Davy’s brow furrowed, and his gaze locked with Quinn’s. “What’s my favorite book? The one you used to read me?”

“
Green Eggs and Ham
,” Quinn said without hesitation. “You liked it because of Sam.”

Davy’s eyes grew wider, and panic flared in them. “Only a win-digo could know that.”

“Or your real dad,” Quinn said. “Your mom knows I’m alive. I saw her too. And Grammy.”

Davy shook his head. “They would have told me.”

“I’m sure they were going to.”

The boy chewed on his lip as the first fat snowflakes began to fall. “What song is Mom’s favorite?”

“‘Hound Dog,’” Quinn said. “She’s a big Elvis fan. And she loves pistachios. You like peanut butter and thimbleberry jam. Your aunt Hilary is my sister and she cans jelly every year and saves some just for you. Your Grammy makes the best
pulla
in the world, and she still sings you ‘
Suomalainen kehtolaulu’
just like she did me when I was growing up.” He hadn’t thought of some of these memories in years.

All this reminiscence was making him crazy. The old life was no more. He could never go back. But he could go forward with what belonged to him—his boy.

Dave took a step nearer. “You really are my daddy?”

“Yes. I really am.”

The boy moved past Samson until he was close enough to reach up and touch Quinn’s face with gloved hands. “You left me,” he said.

“I thought you died in the crash,” Quinn said. “I was wrong.”

Doubt still darkened the boy’s eyes. He dropped his hand. “I want to see my mom.”

How would he tell Davy that he’d never see his mother again? It would be best not to go there. “Let’s go. I have so much to tell you and show you.” He held out his hand to his son. After a brief hesitation, Davy took it with no more questions.

Quinn glanced over to see Jenna staring at him. He held out his other hand to her. He needed to make sure she didn’t desert him now. If she ran off and told Bree, his plans would come crashing down. “Come with us?”

She frowned but took his hand. He squeezed her fingers. They turned back toward the road where he’d parked his truck. This storm would sweep in fast and furious. And hopefully cover their tracks.

“Where are we going?” Jenna asked when they reached the truck and Davy and the dog had gotten inside. She stood by the hood as he slammed the back door and came toward her.

“They want to kill him,” he said.

“Who is they?” she asked.

“It’s better if you don’t know. We’ve got to disappear. Besides, a boy belongs with his father.” He forced a coaxing smile. “I want you with me, Jenna. We can be married and raise Davy.” He thought that would placate her worry, but the doubt remained in her eyes.

“Won’t they find us?”

“Not if they think we’re dead.” The daring plan he had in mind was dangerous. And he still had to figure out how to get his share of the money.

“What about Vic? I can’t leave him behind.”

“We’ll send for him,” he lied. He guided her toward the truck. She got in on the driver’s side and slid across to the passenger seat.

Davy leaned forward. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

Quinn twisted around to stare at the boy. “When?”

“The man I saw putting the baby in the snow. Did you kill it?” The accusation in Davy’s eyes matched his voice.

Quinn winced. He’d hoped the boy hadn’t seen anything. The danger to Davy just escalated. “No. It wasn’t me.”

“Was she your baby?”

There was no way to explain he’d stolen the baby from a poor Native American woman so he could sell her, and then something had gone terribly wrong.

“It wasn’t me,” he said again, the lie slipping easily off his tongue.

“What about Miss Florence? Did you hurt her? She yelled at you.”

Quinn set his jaw. “No more questions. We’ve got to get out of here before we can’t get through the drifts.” He started the truck and pulled out onto the road.

The clock on the mantel moved much too slowly. Bree kept glancing at it, then at her watch. Where could they be? The storm had come in faster than predicted, and she’d expected Jenna and Davy over an hour ago. It was nearly six, and darkness hovered on the horizon. Dinner had congealed in the pans on the stove, but that was the least of her worries.

The TV momentarily snagged her attention. A perky reporter smiled into the camera. “Michael Saunders, CEO of the Kitchigami Mining Corporation, announced today that the company has scrapped plans for a new mine near the Ottawa National Forest. When asked what caused the about-face, Saunders said that after reviewing financial forecasts, the board decided the cost of the new mine would be too great.”

The camera zoomed to the park headquarters. “For reaction to this story, we interviewed Gary Landorf, Forest Supervisor.”

Gary’s smiling face came into focus. “Here at the park service, we’re delighted by this news. As you know, we were concerned the mine would affect our wildlife and resources. I applaud the mining corporation for their wise decision.”

Kade was going to be happy to hear this news. Bree turned off the television. She tried Jenna’s cell phone again but hung up when she got her voice mail. She’d already left three messages. Glancing through the front window, she saw Kade pull up. He’d know what to do.

Her gut told her to go out and find them. Jenna had said they were taking the upper trail along the lake. But Bree couldn’t take Olivia out in this weather. And without Samson, she would be deaf and blind in the storm.

She met Kade at the door. “Jenna isn’t back with Davy yet.”

His brows drew together, and he glanced at his watch. “It’s getting bad out there already.”