The Highlander Next Door (31 page)

Birch stood staring after him while clutching her lifeline to Hazel against her pounding heart, waiting until he was out of sight before collapsing to her knees.

Sweet mother of God, this couldn’t be happening.

Who in hell
was
this bastard, anyway?

Not that it mattered; the important question being, what was she going to do?

Well, she should probably not kneel here like an idiot who had all the time in the world. Deciding she could walk and think at the same time, Birch staggered to her feet, then had to grab a nearby tree to keep from falling and took several deep breaths in an attempt to slow her trembling before finally forcing her rubbery legs to move in the direction he’d pointed.

And as she walked, she thought.

Her dad had said there were whole families of con artists operating in Canada, so it was possible this guy did have dozens of family members watching her every move while pretending to be tourists. And that meant there was no way she could risk going to town or be seen talking to anyone—especially Niall. Or her father, or even a neighbor, or . . .
Merde
,
no one
could help her, because hell yes she believed the bastard would kill her mom.

But she didn’t believe he’d give Hazel back in exchange for the DVDs. No, the moment she handed them over, both she and her mom were as good as dead.

Birch reached the camp road only a short distance from where they’d been caught, which she realized was a perfect place for an ambush, since it was a heavily wooded section that didn’t have any houses nearby. But she stopped at the edge of the woods and looked in both directions while listening for approaching vehicles, figuring the last thing she needed was for a Whisper Cove resident to stop and ask why she looked like someone had just used her for a punching bag. She took another steadying breath and finally stepped into the road, knowing she was only a few hundred yards from home and could duck into the bushes if she heard an engine approaching.

Realizing she was still clutching the phone to her chest, Birch shoved it in her pocket and started running as fast as her rubbery legs would carry her, even more glad Noreen and Macie and Cassandra were gone. She turned off the road the moment she reached the edge of the shelter property and wove down through the trees of the deep lot, then along the side of the house. She stopped when she reached the porch, peeked around the corner to make sure Niall hadn’t come home or her dad hadn’t decided to visit, then sprinted to the walkway. She grabbed the key she’d hidden behind a planter at the bottom of the steps for her residents, ran up the stairs, unlocked the door and ran inside—then immediately turned and closed the door and locked it.

She staggered to the sink, turned on the faucet, and started splashing water on her face and drinking out of her hands, spitting out blood with a pained hiss that turned into shudders. Birch shut off the water when her shudders turned into gut-wrenching sobs, until she started crying so hard her legs gave out and she turned and slid down the cupboard doors to the floor.

She hugged her knees to her chest and hid her face in her thighs, unable to do more than simply ride out the storm. That is, until she became aware that something was digging into her hip and realized it was the bastard’s phone—the one with all those racing seconds eating up her precious time. Birch stretched out her legs, but left the phone in her pocket as she took several calming breaths until her crying returned to sobs and eventually just the occasional shudder.

“Okay, get a grip,” she scolded herself, her voice seeming overloud in the eerily silent house. Birch sucked in her breath on the realization it
shouldn’t
be silent. “Mimi,” she rasped, scrambling to her feet and running to the hall. “Mighty Mimi!”

Nothing; no yip, no whining, just . . . silence.

She ran to the door and looked out to see her mother’s cart parked between the other cart and her SUV, and slowly backed away, remembering The Bastard—it was his official name now—had had Francine/Yvonne drive it back to the house, knowing no one would be suspicious of a strange woman driving a shelter cart.

And considering Emily had spent the last few days playing with Mimi like any normal thirteen-year-old, Birch could only surmise that Francine—now officially The Bitch—had used the key to let herself in the house and stolen the dog—who knew Francine as just another resident, not The Bitch—for her daughter.

“Who in hell
are
you people?” Birch whispered, feeling behind her for the table and plopping down in a chair. “Do any of you have even a sliver of conscience?”

She dropped her head into her hands on the table. “It’ll be okay. Emily will take care of Mimi. The poor dog might be confused when she doesn’t come home tonight, but no one’s going to cut off her toes.” She straightened and looked around. “Mom’s the one in real danger, so
focus
. Before you find those DVDs, you have to find a way to—” Birch snapped her mouth shut before finishing that sentence.

The Bastard obviously knew how to use technology; what if he’d had Francine hide electronic bugs throughout the house during her stay, and he could hear if she talked to anyone on some other phone? Birch got up and went to the counter and grabbed the house phone, hit the talk button and held it to her ear, but didn’t hear a dial tone. Of course Francine and Emily would have cut the line when they’d left last night, because they were freaking
professionals
.

Wait; she had
eight
other cell phones. Birch rushed to her office and started pushing boxes around until she found the one Olivia had brought with her the day the shelter had opened, containing everything on the list Birch had e-mailed her from Montreal after agreeing to take the job. Five cell phones had been on that list, and Olivia had given her freaking
ten
, all of them already activated.

Birch had given one to Macie and one to Cassandra—which they still had—but after an hour of lessons, Noreen had decided not to waste her time learning how to operate something she was certain was just a passing fad.

Birch pulled out one of the phones and turned it on, sighing in relief to see it was still fully charged. She walked over to her desk, took The Bastard’s phone out of her pocket, but stopped in the act of setting it down, her thumb lightly resting on the button that would wake it up. She took a slow, deliberate breath, pushed the button, then slid her thumb across the screen to unlock it.

Seven hours and twenty-three minutes.

She took an even slower breath to keep from screaming, set The Bastard’s phone on the desk and then ran out of the office—only to stop in the hall, not knowing where to run
to
. In the movies people who thought their houses were bugged usually went into the bathroom and turned on the shower to block out their voices. But if The Bastard was listening, wouldn’t he find it odd that she’d take a shower
now
?

She ran up the stairs and down the upstairs hall, shoved her shelter phone in her pocket, and lifted the large picture off the wall. She leaned it against the railing, pushed the small chest of drawers out of the way, and opened the well-disguised attic door. Quietly closing the door behind her, Birch carefully crept up the steep, creaky old stairs, but stopped when she reached the top and studied the floor. She stepped onto one of the old boards, stepped back, and saw her footprint in the dust. But there was only that one print, which meant The Bitch hadn’t searched the attic—likely only because she hadn’t spotted the door.

Birch pulled the phone out of her pocket as she walked toward the small round window, silently thanking her mom for suggesting they preprogram in several numbers for the residents; Hazel also volunteering to make the list and input the numbers for the shelter, as well as the Trading Post, Drunken Moose, and a few other places. Hazel had even asked Niall if she could add his personal cell number on the chance a resident was in
immediate
danger, and told Birch the man hadn’t even hesitated to give it to her.

Oh yeah; her mom was freaking fantastic when it came to details.

Birch sat down on the floor near the window but not close enough to be visible from outside, found Niall in the contacts, and tapped his number—nearly bursting into tears again when he answered with a strong, solid, “Chief MacKeage.”

“Niall, it’s me, Birch,” she said in a rasped whisper.

There was a heartbeat of silence. “What’s wrong?”

“Th-they took Mom. They ambushed us on the camp road on our way into town in the cart. A large silver SUV cut us off and three men jumped out and I sprayed one with my bear spray when he grabbed Mom but another one yanked me out of the cart and made me drop the spray and Mom was screaming and I couldn’t—”

“Birch,”
Niall snapped, cutting her off. “Take a breath, lass,” he said quietly. “Where are ye now?”

“A-at the shelter.”

“Keep talking. I’m on my way.”

“No!” she cried. “No, you can’t come here,” she rushed on in a whisper. “They’re watching. Dozens of them, pretending to be tourists. And The Bastard said he’d know if I called or talked to anyone or went anyplace, and if I did that he . . . he’d kill Mom. And he’s going to cut off one of her fingers in eight hours, and another one every eight hours after that, until I find two DVDs Jacques Rabideu hid in our stuff.”

“How can he know if you call anyone?” Niall asked softly.

“He smashed my phone and gave me one of his so I can call him when I find the DVDs. He said he can even tell who I talk to and where they are. And Francine cut the house lines. She’s one of them. Mom and I were on our way to tell you that Francine and Emily left sometime in the night, and that they’d been searching the house since they came here.”

“Then how are ye talking to me now?”

“I have a bunch of cell phones to give out to the residents. Oh, God, I was going to give one to Francine today! She would have told The Bastard I have them.”

“Easy, lass. Ye didn’t give her one, so he doesn’t know.”

“I’m up in the attic because I’m afraid Francine might have put listening devices in the house.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “I don’t know what to do, Niall. If I find the DVDs and give them to him, he’s going to kill Mom anyway . . . and me.”

“Nay, I’m not going to let that happen, Birch.”

“He . . . he told me he cut out Jacques Rabideu’s heart. I only have about seven hours now. I need to start looking for those discs.”

“Did ye leave some of your belongings in Montreal? In storage?”

“He said they’re not there. Or in our house. He must have already searched them. What . . . what do I do? He’s got Mom.”

“You’re going to stay put and look for those discs,” Niall said calmly. “Let me think on this a bit, and then I’ll call and let ye know what’s going to happen. Keep this phone with you, but put it on vibrate on the chance they are listening to the house.” He hesitated, apparently thinking right
now
. “I’m going to send ye Shep. They’ve been in town for days checking us out, so they won’t think anything of seeing the dog hanging out in the yard. But don’t bring him inside; have him lay on the porch. Give him the command
earalaich
. Say, ‘Shep, guard,’ and then say, ‘
Err
-al-ech.’ Repeat it to me.”

“Err . . .
err
-al-ech. Oh, Niall, they took Mimi.”

“She was in the cart with you?”

“No. Francine drove the cart back here so no one would see it abandoned on the road. And she used the spare key I hid for the residents and let herself in and took Mimi. I . . . I think for Emily.”

“I’m sorry, Birch. When we catch them, there’s a good chance we’ll get Mimi back as well. I’ve changed my mind, then; bring Shep in the house with you. When he comes to the door, step out on the porch and make a big show of being excited to see him, then act as if you’re relieved not to be alone anymore and take him inside.”

Birch snorted. “I won’t be acting. Th-thank you.”

Niall went silent again, then said, “If Shep’s wearing his vest, leave it on him. The vest has a couple of small pockets, but don’t check them until after ye bring him inside. I need to think a bit first, but Shep might be a good way for me to get something to you.”

“O-okay. Um, Niall? When we were in the Vaughns’ basement, you said you grow quieter and slower in direct proportion to the urgency of the situation.”

“Aye,” he said, softly.

“Well, seeing how this is a really, really urgent situation, you won’t grow . . . ah, too slow thinking about what to do, will you?”

Birch held her breath when Niall went pretty damn quiet right now, and didn’t start breathing again until she heard a heavy sigh come over the phone. “I’ll try to hurry my thinking along.”

“Th-thank you. Oh, another thing; I think you should call my dad instead of me, because I might get . . . Well, I need to start looking for those discs. But he needs to know what’s going on, because if he keeps trying my phone and I don’t answer, he might come here to find out why. And you can’t call your officers or Sam or anyone else and have them suddenly come to the station, because The Bastard said he’ll kill Mom if he sees anything that even makes him
feel
uncomfortable. Wait; you said they’ve been checking us out for days. You
knew
these people were here?”

“I just found out this morning and have been trying to decide what to do before I said anything to you. Don’t worry, the Leopolds won’t see anything unusual happening. Did ye get the name of the man in charge of the ambush? Did any of the others call him by name?”

“No. So I’m just calling him The Bastard.”

There was a short silence. “Did he hurt ye, Birch?”

“N-not really. I got a small cut on my cheek when he . . . knocked me down.”

There was a slightly longer silence; Birch assumed he was trying to decide if he believed her or not. “I’m going to hang up and think about this,” he said quietly, “but I want ye to call me the moment ye find those DVDs. Oh, and, lass?” he added, his voice dropping a couple of notches.

“Y-yes?”