Nightingale Way: An Eternity Springs Novel (21 page)

“Why, that’s easy. At the heart of everything, only one thing matters. We all want to love and to be loved and to be secure in that love.”

“Melinda and Cat have the first two covered. It’s the third that gives them trouble.”

“Perhaps they need an angel to work on their case.”

“Do you think you could help?”

She laughed. “I’m not Cat Blackburn’s angel, Jack. That role is reserved for you. From what Gabe and Cam have shared, you’ve played that role in real life for other troubled souls, haven’t you?”

“Me? An angel?” Jack thought of all the destruction
he’d instigated, all the people he’d killed. Every one of them had needed killing, but still. He was nobody’s angel. “Maybe you should move away from the pools. I think the sulfur smell is getting to you.”

She patted him on the head as if he were a child. “Don’t sell yourself short. However, I say that with a caveat. Just because you rescue others, you shouldn’t attempt to elevate yourself, either.”

Jack didn’t follow that. His puzzlement must have shown on his face, because she added, “The role of Savior is taken. You don’t have to save the world, Jack Davenport.”

“That’s about as silly a thing as anyone has ever said to me. Maybe the reason I like these mineral springs so much is because the smell of sulfur reminds me of home—the old fire and brimstone.”

Celeste’s laughter pealed like church bells.

Five days after her trip to Gunnison with Jack, Cat sat in a lounge chair on the bank of Angel Creek with Fred sprawled on the ground beside her. Putting the finishing touches on what had become a six-part story about the history of Eternity Springs for the
Times
, Cat was a happy woman. It was a gorgeous summer afternoon in the Colorado Rockies, and at that particular moment, Cat couldn’t think of anyplace she’d rather be, or, for that matter, anything she’d rather be doing.

She was proud of the work and enjoyed the sense of satisfaction she felt upon finishing it. She realized she’d missed that. She’d learned something from it, too: Investigation into something besides criminal activity could ring her chimes as well.

She saved her file and opened her Web browser in order to email the story to Emily Hall, who had returned to Eternity Springs harried and stressed from dealing with her family emergency. Her brother’s wife had packed up and left him and their three young children, and her brother was floundering. After hearing the story, Cat felt sorry for everyone involved.

She opened her email, sent off her work, then browsed her in-box. She had something from her old boss at the
Washington Post
. Curious, she read it first. He wanted her to call him as soon as possible.

“I wonder what this is about,” she murmured aloud.

Fred’s ears perked and he lifted his head. Soulful brown eyes seemed to scold her for interrupting his nap. She absently scratched behind his ears and considered ignoring the request. Did she want to allow that world to intrude on this one? If history were any indication, a phone call to Douglas Lowery was bound to disturb her peace.

“I shouldn’t act rashly, should I?” she observed to Fred. “Look what happened last time I acted before thinking an idea through. I got saddled with you.”

Was that reproach she spied in his eyes?

“Oh, stop it. You know I didn’t mean it. I’m glad I offered to dog sit.” Fred had proved to be good company, and with him around, she didn’t miss Jack.

Liar
.

Okay, maybe she did miss Jack. Maybe she caught herself listening for the phone or checking her email while glancing out the window at Nightingale Cottage to see if the car she heard on the Angel’s Rest road might belong to him. The man’s “few” days away had stretched to five with no sign of return imminent. It bothered her that she was bothered by it. Jack had wormed his way back into her brain in less than a month. What was wrong with her? Been here, done this. Jack had left. That’s what he did. Why in the world was she wasting her time and energy missing him?

In order to avoid that question, she reached into the computer backpack lying at the foot of the lounge chair and dug around for her phone. She dialed her old boss’s number from memory.

“Hello, Douglas. It’s Cat Blackburn.”

“Where the hell are you?” Douglas Lowery demanded.

“I’m in hiding.” Sort of, she silently added, lifting a hand to wave at Celeste as she walked toward the footbridge spanning Angel Creek.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he grumbled. “That’s no excuse. Especially not now.”

“What’s so special about now?”

“What, they don’t have news wherever you’re hiding?”

Cat sat up straight. Her heartbeat quickened. “What are you talking about?”

“Not what. Who. I’m talking about Bret Barnes.”

Cat drew a blank at the name. “Who is Bret Barnes?”

“So you haven’t heard? I can’t believe that. You must be out in the boonies, but hey, that works for me. Bret Barnes is the scumbag who bombed your house. They finally caught him.”

Relief flowed through Cat and she slumped back against the lounge chair. Funny, she hadn’t realized she was still so tense about this.

“You will give me an exclusive, right?”

She ignored that and asked, “When did this happen?”

“This morning. So, where have you been hiding?”

She almost answered that one, then reconsidered. The last thing she wanted was for the media to descend on Eternity Springs and for it to be her fault. She’d heard plenty of complaints from the local citizenry about when Hollywood came to town in the guise of a television chef. “I’m out west. What do you know about Bret Barnes?”

“Hey, just who is doing the interview here?”

She couldn’t help but grin. “Quid pro quo, Doug.”

He sighed heavily. “Okay, but I want something you don’t give to somebody else. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“The guy is a nutjob fan of the singer you fingered in the dogfight ring.”

“A fan?”

“When he missed with you and you disappeared, he went after someone else.”

Oh, no. She’d been afraid of that. “Who? Was anybody hurt?”

“He targeted a woman named Pemberton. Jane Pemberton.”

Cat’s blood ran cold. She’d expected him to name one of the prosecutors or law enforcement personnel involved in the case, not her friend who headed the dog rescue group, Paw Pals.

“And no,” he continued. “Nobody was hurt. He didn’t get as far into the process as he did with you.”

“Give me details.”

“A private investigator turned up his name. Followed him around for a while. Turned up some evidence that proved Barnes had been casing the Pemberton residence.”

A private investigator, or one Jack’s guys?

“Guy’s apparently a loon,” Douglas continued. “When the cops executed a search warrant, they had more than enough evidence to arrest him. They picked him up, and get this … he sang his confession.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Sang it to the melody of the tune the singer won his big contest with. According to my source in the department, Barnes blames you for the fact that the singer didn’t get the lead role in next year’s remake of South Pacific.”

Cat couldn’t help it. She started to giggle. She almost didn’t hear the details when the newspaperman relayed Bret Barnes’s age, hometown, and other salient facts, then demanded a statement—an exclusive statement—from Cat. “Something you don’t write on your blog,” he added. “Like, the circumstances of how you left town. One rumor going around town is that somebody snatched you and made a ransom demand to your father.”

Oh, dear
. “That’s ridiculous. I left town with a friend of my family, and you can quote me on that.”

She gave him some halfway decent quotes and enough details to satisfy her personal definition of “quid pro quo” without revealing anything that might compromise either her whereabouts or the facts surrounding her departure. When a click indicated another incoming call, she lowered the phone long enough to check the number.
Jack
.

“I have to go, Douglas. I have another call.”

But as she moved her thumb to connect with her ex-husband, her ex-boss spat out words that made her freeze. “Wait! Don’t hang up. I want to offer you your old job back.”

Cat didn’t hang up. She dropped the phone.

“She needs to hear this from you, Melinda,” Jack said as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket.

“Ridiculous.” Melinda Blackburn shuffled some papers on the desk of her home office. “The information is what is important. Not the delivery of it. You know that, Jack.”

Jack bit back his exasperation. What he knew was that Cat needed to learn the news about Barnes immediately, and she should hear it from her mother.

Sure, he’d been the one to have all of Cat’s friends and many of her acquaintances placed under surveillance, but once his hired guys came up with Barnes, Melinda had been the driving force behind taking him down. She’d been the one who called in markers to make sure that cops acted on the tips that surveillance developed. While Jack had been busy spinning stories for politicians, Melinda had closed in on Bret Barnes.

Sure, Jack had been the one to pay him a visit and … coax … information from him, but he would never have had the chance had Melinda not set the ball in motion.
She went to great lengths to protect her daughter. Why couldn’t she let Cat see how much she truly cared?

“The delivery of information will be important to Cat,” he responded as the phone began to ring.

Melinda checked her watch. “I have a meeting.”

“Be wild. Go late.”

She drew back and looked at him. Jack didn’t speak to Melinda that way, but times were changing. He was changing. Melinda and Cat needed to change their relationship, and this was a perfect opportunity to start. He didn’t flinch as she gave him one of her disapproving stares, unwittingly reminding him of her daughter. “I don’t have time now. I’ll call her this evening.”

Jack shifted his stance so that he stood between Melinda and the door. Planting his feet, he decided that this time, under these circumstances, if Melinda Blackburn chose to leave the room without speaking to her daughter, she would have to walk around him to do so. She wouldn’t like giving way to him one bit. He jutted out his jaw, silently challenging her with a look.

At the other end of the call, Cat answered. “Hello?”

“Hello, Cat. We have news.”

“I’ve heard.”

Already? Well, hell. “Who told you?”

When she named her former boss, Jack scowled. He didn’t like Douglas Lowery. He never had. Jack had kept an eye on Cat’s professional life in the years since their divorce, and he’d thought it obvious that Lowery shuttled the good stories to other reporters. Jack suspected that when layoffs came down, Cat’s name had made the list because she was so good at her job. She posed a threat to old Dougie. “How much did he tell you?”

“Not a lot, though I can fill in the blanks. The surveillance that identified Barnes … that was you, right?”

“Partially. Your mother directed things here for the
most part.” He drew a breath, then made his move. “Here, let her tell you about it.”

He handed the phone to Melinda, giving her no opportunity to refuse it. He expected the conversation that followed to be awkward and difficult to listen to, but it was a necessary start if they were going to make any headway in that “secure in love” part of the mother-daughter relationship problem that existed between these two women. Sometime in the past few days, that had become a goal of his.

“Hello, Cathy,” Melinda said.

Inwardly, Jack winced. Though he could hear only one side of the conversation, he knew Cat didn’t like to be called Cathy, and that wasn’t the best way to initiate a meaningful conversation.
Forget meaningful, Davenport. That’s overreaching. A talk that lasts more than thirty seconds will be a victory
.

“Yes,” Melinda said crisply. “We put a man on everyone connected with the story.”

Plus every one of Cat’s friends
, Jack thought. Melinda had added seven people to the list who Jack wouldn’t have known to watch.

Listening to Melinda speak, he noted the detachment in her tone. Where was the warmth? Where was the caring, the concern? Had Melinda always been so … undemonstrative with Cat? Had it always been this way and he hadn’t noticed? Had he been so busy trying to keep his own relationship with Melinda sailing smoothly that he didn’t notice how she and Cat interacted?

Melinda opened a locked drawer in her desk and began sorting through the contents as she spoke. “I thought it likely he wouldn’t stop at one attempt. Honestly, I expected a second attempt to come much sooner. It dragged out longer than I expected.” Melinda listened a moment, then said, “No, of course not. This was privately funded.”

Her gaze flickered to Jack. “No, he didn’t. Your father and I are taking care of it.”

He folded his arms and scowled at Melinda. She could insist all she wanted, but he had hired the security firm and he would damn well pay for it.

Melinda dismissed him by turning away. Next, she subtly stiffened as Cat responded to her mother’s answer. When Melinda spoke again, she used what Jack thought of as her operational tone. In curt, clear, quickly spoken words, she summarized the salient facts about Bret Barnes and his apprehension, then, without giving her daughter another chance to speak, she neatly slid the desk drawer shut and finished, “I’m late to a meeting. Here’s Jack.”