Scarlet Falls: Hour of Need Part 7

Carson shook his head.

"Then you'll stay home today." Grant checked the baby. Still sleeping. "We'll talk about that again in a few days, all right?"

Carson nodded.

"Waffles?" Grant heaved to his feet and stretched his back. He felt like he'd been on an all-night march. He needed coffee. Now. He shuffled into the kitchen and started the machine.

Sunlight spilled through the back window. What time was it? He blinked at a clock on the wall. Ten a.m.

Faith stirred, and Grant started a bottle. He'd already learned that a screaming fit before a feeding increased his chances of being firehosed with baby gak. In an exhausted blur, he fed the kids breakfast. No, wait. Brunch. Whatever.

He mainlined coffee and cleaned up the kitchen. Before he had time to think about a shower, it was noon. The doorbell rang. AnnaBelle sprinted for the front of the house.

"Maybe that's Aunt Hannah." Praying help had arrived, Grant rubbed his bleary eyes.

Carson didn't respond. Carrying the baby, Grant went to the front door. He peered through the sidelight. His sister stood on the porch. One hand rested on the handle of a spinner suitcase. A briefcase was slung from her shoulder. He opened the door wide. AnnaBelle surged forward.

Breezing through the doorway, Hannah halted the dog with one raised hand and a command. "Off."

The dog's tail stopped midwag, drooping to the floor.

"Since when don't you like dogs?" Grant leaned over to kiss Hannah on the cheek.

From her pointy heels to the short cap of polished blond hair, his sister looked every inch the corporate attorney. She stopped in the foyer to slide her long black coat down her arms.

"Since I traded your hand-me-down jeans for adult clothing." She went to the closet and hung her coat. Her tall, thin frame was draped in a white cashmere sweater and pale gray slacks. Against the peeling green wallpaper, her Saks attire looked elegant and out of place.

Hannah walked closer. Her heels clicked on the scratched parquet. A small, curious smile tilted the corner of her mouth. She reached out and gave the baby's foot a tentative squeeze. "You must be Faith."

"Haven't you seen her before?"

"No. Before Jakarta I was in Berlin. Before that, Prague." She lifted her gaze from the baby to Grant. Her eyes misted. "How are you, Grant?"

The air left his chest. "I don't know. A little overwhelmed by it all, I guess. I didn't expect to be the first one here."

Nodding, she sniffed. "I came as soon as I could get away from the negotiations."

"Wait. You didn't come right away?"

She backed up a quarter step. "You don't just step away from a billion-dollar deal."

"I stepped away from a war, for Christ's sake." Grant gritted his teeth and stopped. Arguing with Hannah for being Hannah was pointless. His sister had made partner in a high-powered firm by being single-minded and ruthless. She would never settle for less than complete world domination. Not for the first time, Grant wondered if their father had picked the wrong child to push into the military. The Colonel had wanted a general in the family. Hannah would make a great general. Or dictator.

"Never mind. You're here now and that's what matters." Grant let it go. As they'd learned this week, life was too short. "Why don't you say hi to Carson before you go change?"

The grief hit her eyes again, and she struggled to suppress it. She wasn't a cold person. She felt plenty, but like the Colonel, she'd never been comfortable with emotional expression, hers or anyone else's. "Where is he?"

"The kitchen." Grant led the way.

"Hey, Carson," Hannah said in a soft voice from the center of the room.

Grant elbowed her forward, prodding her toward their nephew. Hannah shot him a don't-rush-me glare before sitting next to the boy. Grant gave her credit for going to Carson's level.

"What are you drawing?" she asked, tilting her head to see the picture.

Carson shrugged. "A man."

"He's crying," she noted. "Is that a house?"

The little boy nodded. "It's our house."

"Why is the man crying?"

Bony shoulders lifted and fell. "I dunno."

"I like the shamrock." She rose. "I'm going upstairs to change."

She was going upstairs to cry, Grant thought. "I'm in the guest room at the end of the hall. Take the room next to it." Lee had wanted the big house for family get-togethers. The first time in years that Grant, Hannah, and Mac would all be under one roof, Lee was gone.

Hannah brushed past him, her mouth tight, her control slipping.

He handed her one of the new house keys. "Are you all right?"

Nodding, she closed her fist around the key and turned away. Hannah hadn't always been so distant. None of them had weathered Mom's death well. Grant and Hannah had run from Scarlet Falls and all its disappointments as soon as possible. Mac had a local address, but he spent half the year traveling all over the globe. Only Lee had stayed.

Grant gave her a half hour to get herself together. He inspected the contents of the baby's bag. Like his own pack, it focused on bottled water, dry clothing, and sanitation items. He restocked items that seemed to require restocking, then added a couple of kiddy granola bars he found in the pantry in case Carson got hungry while they were out.

"Hey, Carson, let's take a drive out to Uncle Mac's place." Grant was hoping there'd be some sign of his youngest brother at his cabin. It wouldn't hurt Carson to catch a combat nap in the car. The kid was exhausted.

At the foot of the steps, he called for his sister. She'd changed into jeans and boots but still wore the cashmere sweater. Her face was bare, the makeup washed away, her eyes puffy and red-rimmed. Casual and clean-faced, she looked ten years younger and more like the girl he'd grown up with than a corporate attorney.

"Let's take a ride out to Mac's place."

"You still haven't heard from him?" She frowned.

"No."

"I'm sure he's fine." But she didn't sound convinced. "You don't think he found out about Lee and Kate and-"

"I have no reason to think Mac is in trouble." Grant shook his head. "But I'll feel better if we find him."

"Me, too." Hannah nodded. "Let's go then."

Mac hadn't relapsed in the ten years since he'd gotten out of rehab, but if he'd found out about the murders . . .

"You want the baby or the box of files?" Grant nodded toward Lee's office.

"I'll get the box," Hannah said.

Not surprised, Grant took Carson out front and opened the back door of the rental car.

Carson shook his head. "I hafta be in a booster seat."

Shoot. Of course both kids needed safety seats. "Where's your booster seat?"

"In Mommy's van." Carson trotted back into the house and emerged with a set of keys. They trooped around the house to the detached garage. Kate's silver minivan was outfitted for kids. Toys, bottled water, snacks, and little nets to stow everything. Carson climbed into his booster seat and fastened his seat belt. Grant snapped Faith's seat into its base unit. He leaned on the carpet. Crumbs embedded his palm. His knee squashed an empty juice box.

Hannah came out of the house with AnnaBelle on her leash. "She was whining. I didn't see why she couldn't ride along."

Grant opened the rear door for the dog. Hannah put the box of files in the cargo area. AnnaBelle jumped in. The insides of the van windows were already smeared with dog s...o...b..r. Not the dog's first car ride. Hannah rode shotgun.

He started the engine. "When was the last time you talked to Mac?"

She lifted a shoulder. "I haven't talked to Mac or Lee in over a month."

"Me either," Grant said. "Were we always like this? I seemed to remember we were closer as kids."

Hannah sighed. "When Mom died, everything changed."

"True." Grant backed out of the driveway.

Mom had been the backbone of the family. She'd handled four young kids with a husband who was away most of the time, and when he finally came home, he was paralyzed.

"Lee used to call me every Sunday." Hannah shook a piece of hair out of her eyes. "But the last couple of years, I got the impression he was swamped and stressed at work. We talked less and less. I was all over the world. The time differences were a pain." She sighed. "None of my excuses will change the fact that he's gone. I should have called him more, and now I can't."

Nothing altered reality and instilled regret with the same permanence as death.

Julia stepped off the bus and shrugged into her backpack, the weight of the straps digging into her shoulders. She fished her phone out of her pocket. Three text messages displayed on the screen. All of her friends were already home. None of them took the bus. They all drove to and from school. She was going to be sixteen in a couple of months. She'd get her own driver's license. But she doubted it would matter. They couldn't afford another car, and none of her friends lived close enough to give her a ride.

She scrolled past the first two messages to the one from Taylor, another thing that didn't make her mom's short approved list. But at some point, a girl had do what a girl had to do, and Julia was sick of being left out of all the fun. She didn't drink or do drugs. Her grades were straight As. Instead of being rewarded, her mom practically kept her prisoner with a bunch of ridiculous rules. She wasn't allowed to date older boys. Taylor was eighteen, and the only boy she was interested in. Julia's fun was limited to skating, and now even that would suck without Mrs. Barrett as her coach. She flicked a tear from her cheek.

A funny sensation tickled the back of her neck, like someone was watching her. She glanced around, but there was no one in sight. She looked ahead. Her house was two blocks from the bus stop. One block left.

She went back to her message from Taylor.

Can u get out tonight?

OmiG.o.d. He wanted to go out with her.

Don't act too excited. She texted back: maybe.

That p.r.i.c.kly feeling itched her neck again. She glanced behind her. A white van with a ladder on the roof sat at the curb in the middle of the block. A man in green coveralls was leaning into the back. Just a workman. Her phone vibrated. She opened another text message.

Taylor: Maybe?

Julia: u kno, crazy mom Taylor: I can come get u Julia hesitated, thumbs hovering above her phone. Guilt pa.s.sed over her, but excitement crowded it out of her mind. If her mom was reasonable, she wouldn't have to sneak around. She typed k and sent the message.

Taylor: What time?

Julia considered. Mom usually worked on the house renovations until around eleven o'clock. It would have to be late, after Mom settled into a deep sleep. At least AnnaBelle was back at the Barretts' house. There was no way she would have been able to sneak past the ever-alert golden retriever.

12, she texted.

Taylor: K.

Goose b.u.mps raised on her arms. Suddenly anxious, Julia zipped her jacket higher and glanced around. The white van sat empty. The man was gone. Everything was normal. Her sudden attack of nerves must be from the decision she'd just made. She didn't care. She'd never disobeyed her mom before. OK, she had, but not like this. Sneaking out was a whole new level of deception. If she got caught, she'd be in big trouble. But she was going out tonight. Seeing Taylor would be worth the risk.

Chapter Ten.

"The turnoff is coming up."

"I see it." Grant slowed and steered onto the dirt road that led up to Mac's cabin. The minivan b.u.mped along the frozen ruts.

Hannah glanced in the back. "Hope this doesn't wake them."

Both kids slept, heads lolling against the sides of their car seats. Grant parked in a cleared area in front of the cabin. Mac's beat-up Jeep sat in front of the house. Mud splattered the fenders and windshield.

"Wait here with the kids," he said. "I'll see if he's inside."

He closed the door softly, went up onto the porch, and knocked. No answer. Cupping his hand over his eyes, he looked through the window but didn't see anyone. He tried another window. Mac's car keys were on the kitchen table next to a backpack. He must be inside. Why wasn't he answering? Anxiety welled in Grant's chest. He pounded on the front door with a fist.

"Hold on," someone shouted within. A minute later the door opened, and a rumpled Mac stood in the doorway. Sporting a scraggly two-week beard and bloodshot eyes, he was barefoot, dressed only in a pair of unb.u.t.toned jeans. He dragged a hand through his bushy blond bedhead. "Grant?"

"Where the h.e.l.l have you been?" Grant shouldered his way into the cabin. "I've been trying to reach you for days."

"I got home about four this morning."

Grant scanned his brother's bedraggled appearance. Please. Please, let Mac not be using again. He needed his brother's help. "Where were you?"

"Not doing anything bad. I swear." Mac held up a hand. "I was finishing up my study on a family of river otters on the Scarlet River. Been camping for almost a week. My phone battery died last Friday. Not that it matters. No cell reception out there anyway."

Grant exhaled the breath he'd been unconsciously holding. "You can't do that to me, Mac."

"You need to have a little faith, Grant," Mac shot back. "I know I f.u.c.ked up big-time, but that was a long time ago." He blinked a couple of times, then his gaze sharpened. "Wait a minute. You're not due home from Afghanistan for two more months." Apprehension dawned in his bleary eyes. "Who died? Dad?"

Shaking his head, Grant guided his youngest brother into a chair. His relief that Mac was all right shifted to dread at having to break the news. Mac's b.u.t.t went down hard, his eyes hardening, preparing for the worst.

"Lee and Kate," Grant said softly.

Mac's face went blank for a few seconds, as if he couldn't comprehend the words. He stared back at Grant, the shock and horror gradually sliding over his expression. "No."

Grant closed his eyes. Mac's disbelief brought back his own reaction to receiving the news a few days before. Pain burst fresh in his chest like a flashbang. He turned toward the kitchenette. Giving his brother a minute to absorb the news, he went through the motions of making coffee, though probably neither of them wanted it.