Untamed: Duty Bound Book 3 (19 page)

A flicker of amusement swept across his face as he gazed around. “No, I don’t.”

Not only did Fudge care deeply for the little blue-eyed boy, but he also possessed a sense of humor. Such a person had to be trustworthy. “If you won’t tell me your name, will you at least tell me why you’re here?”

“I promised Rory I’d keep you safe. It would help if you stopped running away from me.”

The boy’s name evoked a warm feeling in her belly. She’d love to meet him.

“Lucky for you,
Fudge
, I’ve run out of places to hide.” Until he gave her an alternate name, she intended to keep calling him Fudge. “Would you tell me more about Rory or the men chasing after me?”

“I will, but first we need to find you a safe house.” He stood up, and with the snowshoes tucked under his left arm, he offered his right hand. “Would you come with me, Hannah?”

Following her instincts, she pushed the afghan aside and took his hand. “I still don’t know your name.”

He gently squeezed her hand. “Constable Avery Stone. You call me Avery.”

“Avery?” The name rolled on her tongue, as sweet as a piece of fudge.

***

His elbow pressed against the windshield of his snowmobile, Avery stood at the edge of the woods. While he waited for darkness to cover their final approach, he brought Hannah up to speed on the events and people surrounding her life, only skipping two details. When the time was right, he would tell her about Rory being her son and witnessing Abbott’s last few hours.

“It feels so strange.” A half-eaten granola bar in her glove, Hannah straddled the seat of his vehicle. “Part of my brain vaguely remembers what you’re telling me, like…like in a disjointed dream. Greta had known about the teenagers framed for my grandfather’s murder but she never set things right. Why?”

“Maybe she was afraid to meet their fate if she spoke against the three individuals.” Someone in town might have known Greta. As soon as he returned to work, he would circulate her picture.

“You said I was the one who suggested I go for a ride while you look at Percy Foley’s file. Did I look like I had a destination in mind, or do you think I just bumped into my attackers in the forest?”

The blow had scrambled her reality, but it hadn’t damaged her ability to absorb or process all the information he’d dumped on her. Anyone else might have felt frightened or overwhelmed. Not Hannah.

While his admiration grew another notch, he had to remind himself to keep speaking slowly and clearly. “I have no idea. Reading that pretty head of yours isn’t always easy, you know.”

When a lovely shade of red colored her cheeks, Avery cursed his choice of words. Telling her she was pretty wasn’t exactly how he’d intended to win her trust.

“Somehow, that doesn’t sound like a compliment.”

The teasing in her voice was unmistakable, and he was relieved by her reaction.

“I’ll try to do better next time. Hannah, I know you don’t remember Fred, but would you like to meet him? He could examine your head.”

The offer presented some challenges, like preventing the doctor from mentioning her son, securing a meeting place, and trusting a man who couldn’t keep a straight face, but Avery was willing to risk it for Hannah’s health.

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Avery, but to see my brother is a bad idea. The less he knows, the safer for everyone, including him. Besides, what would he do? Prescribe a memory pill?”

As much as he would like an instant remedy to her condition, he agreed with her assessment. “In your place, I’d be frustrated. How do you handle it, Hannah?”

Amidst vigorous chewing, she shrugged. “I tie unsuspecting men to their beds.”

The response issued in a deadpan voice dissolved the tension of the last few days. He burst out laughing. When she joined him, the bond between them strengthened.

“Why do I have the feeling your version of the cabin encounter will differ from Alistair’s?”

“He told you about me?” Her surprise turned into disbelief after he recounted the man’s morning visit. “He wanted to charge
me
? I had barely removed my coat that he was already trying to get the rest off. My knee just happened to connect with his lower brain. Not my fault he collapsed on the bed. I didn’t want him to fall off, so I tied him up. You know…for his own protection.”

For a moment, Avery felt almost sorry for the man.
Almost.
“I wish I’d seen it. That’s a much better version.”

Her renewed laughter echoed inside his chest. Twilight had descended upon the forest. A few more minutes, and she wouldn’t be able to see his words.

“We’ll leave soon. Put my helmet on.”

***

Snuggled in his arms, Finger stopped suckling on the bottle and closed her eyes. Rory took the empty container away and gave it to Bill.

“Good job, Rory.” Bill patted his shoulder at the same time he said
good job
, and he said it a lot…like Mama. With his white beard, he looked like Santa Claus. He was just missing hair on his shiny red noggin.

“Ready to go to bed?”

Shaking his head, Rory cuddled Finger closer. She was soft and warm, just like Snowflake.

Loud laughter came out of Bill’s mouth. He was a grandpa, and he laughed a lot. Rory didn’t have a grandpa, but he liked Bill. Maybe Mama could get him a grandpa.

“You’re right. It’s too early for bed. Besides, I need you to help me with something.”

He was a big boy—Mama always told him that—he could help. Before Bill changed his mind, he gave him a big nod.

“That’s my boy.” He patted his shoulder again. “I have to go up the ladder to fix a draft in the ceiling. Finger can’t come near the ladder. It’s too dangerous for a baby coyote. Can I count on you to keep her in your arms and stay in the corner?”

Sure.
This time, Rory gave an even bigger nod.

“Good boy.”

Bill removed his coat and put it on a barrel before rummaging through the canisters and tools on the workbench. In the shed back home, Mama had a hammer like the one Bill looped in the belt of his pants. He took a handful of something from a can. When he dumped the things in his chest pocket, they jingled.

A ladder with a shelf at the top stood on four legs in the middle of the room. Unlike Mama, Bill didn’t place a can of paint on the shelf, he put two bricks. Two red bricks. Then he climbed high up to the top. From there, he looked down and winked.

“It won’t be long. I just need to hammer a few nails.” He took the hammer and raised his hand.

A leg snapped, and the ladder wobbled. Frozen in place, Rory watched the pieces of wood break apart. Bill spread his arms. The hammer plunked to the floor as the ladder collapsed. Bill landed in the middle the debris. All crooked.

“Rory?”

Bill spoke like he’d just run a long race. When he moved his head sideways, an invisible hand twisted Rory’s tummy. Blood spilled from his forehead. Lots of blood…like Brent after the people hit him…again and again.

“Rory…go tell Rowan…”

Brent had told him to stay in the tree house…not to move…not to talk…that he’d be up with his mitt right away. Tears wet Rory’s cheeks. Brent never climbed up. He’d stopped moving, and the bad people had taken him.

“Rory…”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Seated on the floor with her back to an ugly taupe wall, Hannah cuddled the little terrier that had jumped on her as soon as she stepped inside Avery’s house. In a strange way, learning the dog belonged to her had given her a sense of identity.

“Snowflake was in the shed when I dropped you off. I was thinking her owners must not be too far, they will rescue you.” She shook her head at the irony. “Do you know how long I’ve had her?”

“You found her in the forest in October, not sure which October. It was on a snowy day, hence her name.”

Bent over the oven, he scrambled an omelet in a frying pan, but each time he spoke, he looked at her. The coincidence was baffling her.

“Are you sure I’ll be safe hiding in your house?” To keep her within footsteps of the detachment and under the nose of his colleagues seemed too daring. “What if someone comes for a visit?”

“If anyone knocks, hide in the bathroom. Snowflake doesn’t like strangers, she’ll chase them away. Just keep the blinds down, and try not to switch too many lights on and off if I’m not here. We don’t want any bystanders thinking I lodge a ghost.” He transferred the omelet onto a single plate and placed it on the table. “Have a seat. I’m not what you’d call a chef, but I haven’t poisoned anyone in a long time.”

The aroma wafting across the kitchen tantalized her taste buds. “There’s enough for two, Avery. Aren’t you joining me?”

“I need to go see Fred before he leaves the clinic. I’ll eat later.”

He took Snowflake from her arms and set her in front of two plastic bowls. While he filled the bowls, one with water, the other with brown pellets, she approached the table and took a bite.

Her stomach gurgled in delight. “This is delicious.”

The man underestimated his culinary ability.

“Glad you like it.” He put his jacket back on. “While I’m gone, make yourself at home. There’s more food where that came from and there are towels in the hallway closet. I apologize but the bathtub isn’t too clean. Just use the shower. If you need clothes, feel free to rummage through my drawers and borrow whatever fits you.”

“Thanks.” A comforting familiarity existed between them, and she relished the warm feeling spreading inside her chest. “Now go. You don’t want to miss Fred.”

Once her stomach was contentedly full, she tidied the kitchen, and then opted for a long, cleansing shower.
This is heaven.

As she dried herself, light flashed through the bathroom blinds.

The road and the driveway were on the other side of the house. There shouldn’t be any light reflecting in that window.

Unsure what to make of it, Hannah fingered a slat down and peeked out. A hooded silhouette, flashlight in hand, scurried toward the RCMP garage. The light briefly reflected on every window the individual peeped through.
He’s looking for something—or someone.

The thought he might have intentionally pointed his light at the bathroom window unnerved Hannah. The individual had no business snooping around Avery’s house.

Without touching any electrical switches, she entered Avery’s bedroom. Dim light from the kitchen illuminated her search through his dresser and closet. The clothes she’d worn for days on end lay on the bathroom floor, smelly and filthy. Until they went for a spin in the washer on the heavy-duty cycle, there would be no wearing them.

She donned a heavy flannel shirt and tucked it into dark sweatpants before yanking on the waist cord until the pants stayed above her hips.
I look like a scrawny version of Avery.

With Snowflake on her heels, she continued her search in the entrance closet. The parka Greta had given her hung beside a black bomber jacket. She slipped on her boots and picked up Avery’s jacket.

“Snowflake, you stay here. I’ll be right back.”

***

The dark bags under Fred’s eyes and the increased slouching of his shoulders, as he examined the body of the old woman, added ten years to his age. At the sight of his downcast appearance, a pang of guilt crept inside Avery’s chest.

“Hello, Doc.”

“Stone?” He repositioned the white sheet over the woman’s feet. “I was waiting for you. Any sign of Hannah or Rory?”

The question hung between them, a lifeline barely keeping the coroner afloat.

“No yet, but if the woman managed to live in a cave, it’s not impossible Hannah and Rory also found a shelter.” With mother and son safe, Avery didn’t have to work hard to feign optimism. “So? What can you tell me?”

“Plenty.” Fred exposed her face. “Meet Margaret Watt.”

The mysterious Greta is Margaret Watt, the owner of the cabin where I found her dead?
The coincidence confounded him. “Are you sure?”

“I found this concealed in her bra. I take it you hadn’t searched her?” A rare smile accompanied the empty prescription bottle the coroner gave him. “It’s Potassium Chloride.”

The prescription had been issued to Henry Watt nine years ago. The day and the month had faded, but the year was still visible. “That doesn’t prove her identity, Doc.”

“No, but after I found the bottle, I asked my receptionist to look at the deceased. Kim is in her fifties, and she’s lived here all her life. She recognized Margaret, also known as Greta, right away. Margaret and Henry were patients of the doctor who used to run this clinic. I looked at their medical files. Henry was diagnosed with low level of potassium in his blood, was prescribed the medication, only to die in a bar fight two days later. That bottle shouldn’t have been missing more than a few pills.”

Fred could have insisted on a warrant before divulging some of the information, and Avery appreciated his cooperation. “Are you saying Greta ingested expired pills and died of an overdose?”

“Heart failure is the cause of death, but yes, it could be the result of an overdose. Old pills or not, swallowing an entire bottle would give a bear a heart attack. In any case, I’ll know more when I get the toxicology report back. Now look at this.” Moving from the head of the steel table to the side, he lowered the sheet, exposing the woman’s chest. “In her medical record, there was a picture of her breasts following the removal of a small lump twelve years ago. The photo showed no scar. There was no indication she’d sustained any other upper body injuries prior to her last visit which took place a week after her husband’s death.”

Two scars, looking nothing like claw marks, crisscrossed over her right collarbone, one downward toward her breast, the other sideways along her upper arm.
The handiwork of a sharp knife.

“How long ago did she sustain these injuries? Could they have been self-inflicted?”

Fred shook his head. “The angle down her arm makes it unlikely she did it to herself. As far as telling you when it happened…it wasn’t recently. I’d say many years ago.”