Dangerous Legacy (9 page)

“Thank you, Mama,” he said sweetly, already curled up beside his best pal and patting the massive rib cage.

As Maggie laid more covers over them both and smiled tenderly, she wondered if she’d ever seen a more charming picture of pure love.

The easy answer sobered her. “Yes,” she whispered, looking for words to describe the images of Mark abruptly hugging Flint and the man’s compassionate response.

Only then, as she replayed the scene, did she realize that when Flint had pressed his face to the child’s shoulder, there were unshed tears glistening in his emerald eyes.

She’d been so worried about Mark’s possible rejection she hadn’t paid much attention to other details and wondered if she was imagining raw emotions because hers were in such a state.

Padding off to bed, Maggie let her mind replay the evening in its entirety. If she’d kept a diary, there wouldn’t have been enough blank pages to list every fact, let alone mention how she’d felt as the scene unfolded.

Thankfully, that trial was over. For now. And although she was still anxious about the future, she figured she was weary enough to go to sleep despite her concerns.

The house was dark except for the bluish glow of a tiny night-light in the bathroom. Sighing, she closed her eyes and snuggled into her pillow.

The next thing Maggie knew, something woke her. A sound? She’d been dreaming so vividly she wasn’t sure. Had there been a faint squeak of hinges?

She sat up in bed. All the unexpected company had disrupted her usual nighttime schedule. She knew she’d snapped the dead bolt on the kitchen door after Flint left, but what about the front? Picturing Flint entering for the second time, she failed to see herself passing him in order to secure that lock.

Eyes wide and trying to adjust to the lack of light, Maggie held her breath. The house was as silent as an old structure ever was. Changes in temperature and humidity made the boards groan and sometimes make popping noises, but that was normal.

The blue glow from the hallway remained steady. Undisturbed. Nevertheless, she had a strong urge to check on her “boys.” All she had to do was gather enough courage to leave the sanctuary of her own room. A strong maternal instinct made that easier. Being unarmed was the only aspect that gave her pause.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and put on a robe and slippers while she cast around for some kind of weapon. The only solid object nearby was a small bedside lamp. Pulling the plug, she gripped it like a baseball bat and started down the hall.

A shadow flickered. Or did it? Maggie froze. Braced herself. Waited for what seemed like an eternity.

Nothing more happened. There were no strange sounds, no changes in the night-light’s glow.

Feeling a bit silly, she began to relax. The lamp held lower, she proceeded to tiptoe toward Mark’s room.

Just as she reached the doorway, she heard Wolfie growl. Assuming he was reacting to her stealthy approach, Maggie spoke soothingly. “It’s okay, boy. It’s just me.”

His barking erupted as if he’d just spotted an archenemy. Startled, Maggie was about to reassure him again when she was unexpectedly shoved aside. All she saw was the blurred passage of a dark figure.

The lamp hit the floor. Its bulb shattered. Acting on instinct, she pivoted into the boy’s bedroom, slammed the door shut and jammed her shoulder against it to keep it closed.

Maggie slid to the floor, her back pressing against the door.

As she opened her arms to embrace her two frightened companions, she realized that, like it or not, Flint had been right. She could not protect Mark adequately by herself.

NINE

M
aggie’s heartbeats thudded in her ears. They were safe for the moment. At least she hoped so. Wolfie was panting and licking tears from Mark’s face while the child clung to her and sobbed with fright.

They needed help. Reinforcements. The police. But how was she going to notify anybody when her phone was outside this room? What might happen if she dared open the door to go fetch it?

Just then the thin glass of the broken lightbulb crunched. Someone was walking across it! Maggie didn’t dream she could get more tense, but she did.

After that, however, there was nothing else audible. No steps, no pounding knock, no voiced threats.

Straining to listen, she prayed she’d hear something more definitive. Something that would tell her that the prowler had fled—an engine, fading footsteps, anything.

Darkness enfolded her, pressing in to smother. Long minutes passed with no sign that their enemy still lurked.

“That doesn’t mean he’s gone,” Maggie muttered. She gently unwound Mark’s arms from her neck and pulled him into her lap, where she stroked his silky hair.

Her pulse was starting to slow. Words of comfort were getting easier. “It’s okay, honey. Whoever scared us isn’t making noise anymore.”

She felt his nod against her shoulder. “I need to get my phone so I can call the sheriff.”

Mark gripped her again. “No!”

“It’ll be okay. I promise.” Maggie studied the familiar room and made a strategic decision. “Tell you what. While I’m gone, you and Wolfie can make a special camp in the closet, just the two of you.”

“I wanna stay with you.”

“I know you do.” Maggie managed to swallow past the lump of emotion in her throat. It was crazy to bide her time and wait for the prowler to return, perhaps with reinforcements, yet did it make any more sense to venture out when he might be hiding in wait for her? Neither choice made much sense. She figured she could either muster her courage, hope no one was waiting to ambush her and go for the cell phone, or sit there helpless all night. Action seemed the most logical course.

“Where’s the little flashlight I gave you?” she asked her son.

“Over there.”

“See if you can find it and take it with you in case you need it in your new camp.”

“Okay.” He left and returned in moments.

Maggie covered the beam with her fingers as she tested the light. In the glow that escaped she could see Mark’s worried expression. Moreover, they both noticed that Wolfie’s paw was bleeding through his bandage.

“Mama, look!”

“I see it, honey. Don’t worry about that now. It’s not bad enough to hurt him,” Maggie said, forcing herself to mimic being calm when she wanted to shriek.

She grabbed a blanket off the bed and tossed it on the floor for their temporary comfort. “There you go. Into the closet with you both.”

As soon as they were settled with Mark hugging the big dog’s neck, she held out the flashlight. “Here. Just don’t turn it on unless you really have to. We don’t want anybody to see the light and figure out where you are.”

“You said the bad guy was gone.” Mark’s voice was reedy, quavering.

“I’m just being very careful, that’s all. Promise you’ll stay right there with Wolfie?”

He nodded. “I promise.”

“Okay.” Easing the closet door shut, Maggie whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mama.”

She closed her eyes long enough to add, “Please, God, keep him safe,” then started for the hall.

Once again the blue glow illuminated her path. She paused to listen, to muster the necessary bravery to proceed. From now on she was going to sleep with her cell phone, even if she had to sew a zippered pocket onto her pajamas.

Hands fisted, she skirted the broken glass and pieces of ceramic lamp base. Each step after that came faster until she was running. She dove for her purse, carried it across her rumpled bed with her and began a frantic search in its depths.

The moment her hand tightened on the cell phone she felt some relief, but that was nothing compared to how glad she was when the 911 operator answered.

* * *

As far as Flint was concerned, his conversations with Maggie had only just begun. Yes, he was angry. But more than that he was disappointed. And extremely worried.

It had occurred to him that his return to Serenity might have been the catalyst for the trouble she’d been having—that they’d both been having, counting the wild shots he’d dodged. If his own safety had been the only consideration, he’d have been okay with it. Lots of folks weren’t fans of Game and Fish wardens. Or of laws. He’d been threatened before.

But everything had changed the moment Flint saw Mark. Everything. It really didn’t matter what he did at this point, because it was too late to turn back the clock. Not only was it clear to plenty of people how much he and the boy looked alike, but it was clear to
him.
There was no returning to the bliss of ignorance. His and Maggie’s genes had created a wondrous child. Their child. And whether she liked it or not, he intended to look out for both mother and son.

What Flint would have loved to do was confide in his great-grandparents the way he used to as a teenager. Sadly, Ira was likely to erupt in senseless anger and Bess would support whatever her husband wanted. Right now the old couple needed his help around the farm, and the fewer waves he made in their established routines, the better it would be for all concerned.

That left a buddy from the service whose number was still packed away with his discharge papers, or the town sheriff. Harlan had made him feel more welcome than anyone else. Flint checked the time. It was far too late to phone, but maybe a text would be okay.

All he typed was
R U up?
Not expecting any answer until morning, he put his cell aside and lay back in bed. When it beeped a minute later he jumped to grab it.

Why?
Harlan had texted.

Need to talk.

About?

Flint hesitated, then spelled
Maggie
and waited for a typed reply. Instead, his phone rang. It was the sheriff.

“How did you find out?” Harlan asked without saying hello.

Flint gripped the instrument tighter, his heartbeats picking up speed. “Find out what?”

“She thought she had a prowler tonight. The kid said he saw a moving shadow, but I didn’t find any sign of a break in.”

“But she’s okay?”

“Yes. She’s sure that dog of hers messed up his foot again chasin’ some guy off. Other than that, everything’s under control.”

“Are you still out at her place?” Flint asked, trying to dress one-handed.

“Sittin’ in her driveway. Just about to call it quits unless there’s more trouble. You plannin’ on comin’ over?”

“Yes. Wait for me?”

“Sure, son. The night’s shot anyway. Might as well stay up for breakfast.”

The only parts of his regular uniform Flint donned were his boots. And his gun.

* * *

Once Harlan had pronounced Maggie’s home prowler free and she’d rechecked all the locks the way she usually did before retiring, she cleaned up the mess and settled herself in Mark’s room. She’d have preferred to bring in the firewood chopping ax for their protection, but given the danger of the sharp blade, she’d opted for a hoe with a strong handle instead.

“I’m not sleepy,” Mark whined.

“Me, either. We need to hold still just the same so Wolfie doesn’t jump around on his sore foot.”

“Is it bleedin’ again?” He rolled over and bounced on his knees on the mattress.

“It will be if you keep that up,” Maggie warned. “We need to be very nice to him for scaring that bad guy away.”

“Yeah. He was real ugly,” Mark offered.

That took Maggie aback. “You saw his face?”

The boy shrugged, then threw himself onto his back with a whoosh. “Kinda.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I dunno.”

“Mark...” She drew out his name. “If you know something that I don’t, you need to tell me. It’s important. The sheriff needs to know stuff like that.”

“’Cause he has a badge?”

“That’s right.” Maggie kept monitoring the dog’s paw, thankful to see no more seepage.

“The game warden has a badge, too.”

“Yes, he does.” She was beginning to see where the clever boy was going with his questions. “But it’s the sheriff who checks on people. Game wardens look after animals.”

“People, too. I heard you tell Mamaw.”

Maggie sighed in resignation. “You weren’t supposed to be listening.”

“Why not?”

“Because it was grown-up talk.”

“What’s the difference?” he asked with an impish grin.

Maggie had to chuckle. “Good question. How about from now on I tell you when you’re not supposed to be listening? Will that help?”

“Sure,” he said. The twinkle in his Crawford-green eyes said otherwise.

Laughing softly, Maggie tucked covers around her son and herself, taking care to include as much of the dog as possible while leaving his cut paw sticking out. As soon as they both settled down she’d go outside and bring Harlan up to speed about the prowler being “ugly.” If he’d left by then she’d phone him in the morning. Being ugly was hardly a useful description.

After about ten minutes she heard a motor and saw twin beams of light sweep across the bedroom ceiling. If the car had been the sheriff, leaving, his headlights would not have hit the house.

“Rats. More company,” she whispered, hoping Mark was too drowsy to pay attention. Apparently, he and the dog both were, because neither of them stirred when she slid from beneath their shared blankets.

One peek through her front windows told her that not only was the sheriff’s patrol car still there, but a silver state truck was now parked beside it, nose to tail, so the drivers could easily converse.

Maggie wasn’t positive that Harlan had called Flint, but she had her suspicions. If it turned out that he was keeping the warden informed about her, she intended to raise the roof. There was no reason for Game and Fish to be notified if the Dodd Sanctuary was not directly involved. No reason at all. At least nothing valid.

She stormed into her room and pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt before stuffing her feet into boots. It was time to put a stop to this good-old-boy network nonsense. She certainly didn’t want to have to avoid reporting a crime just to keep Flint’s nose out of her personal life.

By the time she was dressed, she’d decided that angry confrontation was not the best approach. Instead, she went into the kitchen to make coffee. Enough for three.

Then Maggie put on her jacket, finger-combed her hair and headed for the confab in the driveway. No way was she going to let Flint and the sheriff get away with keeping her in the dark. Whatever was going on was just as much her problem as theirs.

Her breath hitched as she quietly eased the front door closed behind her. It was
more
her problem. She had Mark’s future to worry about. God willing, she’d make it through these current attacks and live to see him grow to adulthood.

And if not?
she asked herself, realizing it was a justifiable question. “If something happens to me, Father,” she prayed, “please take care of my son.”

Had God already answered that plea by bringing his father into the picture? Maggie wondered.

She stood tall, gathered her courage and started down the porch steps.

* * *

Harlan leaned out his car window and gestured with his chin. “Heads up. Trouble’s on the way.”

“So I see. I’m kind of surprised she’d come out after you said she was so scared earlier.”

“Nothing about Miz Maggie Morgan surprises me,” the sheriff said. “She’s quite a gal.”

Flint didn’t know how to respond without sounding infatuated, so he just nodded.

“Think about it. There she is, a pregnant teenager with nobody to love her, a dying daddy, a flaky mother and an uncle with a police record as long as your arm. Did she run? Or hide? Nope. She got herself a job and worked as long as she could, then moved in with her widowed mama in order to survive while she took college courses by computer.”

“I didn’t know that,” Flint said. He was watching her approach in the side mirror of his truck.

“There’s probably a lot you don’t know,” Harlan huffed. “But I get the idea you’re about to learn more.”

“Yeah. I’ll pull forward and park. You’re staying, aren’t you?”

That made the older man chuckle. “Why? You ain’t scared of a little thing like Maggie, are you?”

Flint grinned back at him. “Terrified.”

* * *

At first, it upset Maggie to think Flint was leaving. When he parked and got out, however, she didn’t know whether or not to be glad.

“I put on a big pot of fresh coffee,” she called, careful to include the sheriff. “Why don’t we go inside and drink it instead of you guys sitting out here in your cars?” She chaffed her palms. “It’s freezing.”

“Predictions of snow for next week,” Harlan said, ambling over to join her. “Got any pancakes to go with that coffee?”

“I might be able to scare some up.” Maggie smiled at him, then diverted her gaze to Flint and quipped, “Even if you bring him.”

The lighthearted diversion apparently worked, because Flint’s shoulders began to relax and his walk seemed less awkward. Would they ever regain the easy camaraderie they had once shared? She doubted it.

Maggie paused at the front door, briefly blocking the way. “Shush. The boys are asleep and I’d like them to stay that way.”

Both men nodded. In the glow from the porch light, the green of Flint’s eyes looked exactly like Mark’s. The more she saw of this man, the more she associated him with their son. Part of her problem was undoubtedly that she loved her little boy so totally. The difficulty came when her heart and mind applied those same emotions to Flint.

The kitchen was welcomingly warm. Maggie shed her jacket and left the men to find themselves comfortable seats at the table while she filled three mugs and delivered them.

Sighing, she smiled at Harlan. “One cup of coffee first and then I’ll start your pancakes, Sheriff. I just need to wake myself up a little more.”