A Family Kind of Wedding (24 page)

The phone jangled, and they both jumped. “It could be Katie,” Tiffany said, glancing to the backyard. “She might be calling Josh to explain why she's late.”

For some reason he couldn't explain, the muscles in Luke's back tightened, and he snagged the receiver before it had time to ring again. “Kinkaid residence.”

“Who's this?” a male voice demanded. Luke's fingers tightened over the mouthpiece in a death grip.

“Luke Gates. I'm a neighbor. Ms. Kinkaid isn't in right now.”

“Where is she?”

Luke's eyes narrowed, and he thought of all the hang-ups Katie had received. “Who're you?”

“This is Jarrod Smith, Gates,” the voice said with more than a trace of irritation. “I'm looking for my sister.”

He relaxed a bit. The voice fit. He'd only talked to Jarrod a couple of times, but he was convinced that Katie Kinkaid's oldest half brother was on the other end of the line. “She's not here right now.”

“So where is she?”

Leaning a shoulder against the door and meeting the questions in Tiffany's eyes, he said, “According to Josh, Katie went over to her old place to meet a potential renter.”

“When?”

“Over an hour ago.”

“Damn!” Jarrod let fly a blue streak, and Luke's momentary feeling of calm vanished into thin air. “Let's hope it's legit.”

“What do you mean?” Luke demanded.

“It's probably just a coincidence, but Isaac Wells, with his lawyer, walked into the police station not two hours ago. He seems to think he's in some kind of danger from Ray Dean, an excon. He also thought maybe because Katie's shown so much interest in the story that Ray might want to talk to her.”

Luke didn't like what he was hearing, and he'd never put much stock in coincidence; the fact that Katie was late at the same time Isaac Wells had suddenly turned up made him anxious. Still…no reason to panic. Not yet. “How do you know all this?”

“I have connections with a friend on the force. We used to be partners. He keeps me informed because I've been working on this from the outside. I'd been checking with lawyers in Eureka, where that letter Katie received was postmarked, widened the circle to include Oregon as I figured Wells would want an in-state attorney. I was on the right track, only hadn't located the guy. Anyway, he and Isaac strolled into the police station this afternoon.” Frustration edged Jarrod's voice, and Luke decided Katie's oldest half brother wasn't used to having his quarry elude him. “Katie wanted to know the minute he came into town, so I thought I'd pass on the information.”

“I'll let her know,” Luke promised.

Jarrod hesitated, as if weighing whether he should confide in Luke, as if there was something more.

“Anything else?” Luke prodded.

“I don't know.”

Luke could almost hear the wheels of suspicion turning in Jarrod's mind. Tiffany was standing by this time, her eyes fixed on Luke's face, her expression growing more concerned by the second.

“Maybe I'm just borrowing trouble,” Jarrod allowed, “but Wells is starting to claim that Ray Dean has been involved in a lot of crimes the police couldn't pin on him.”

“How does Wells know?”

“Wells?” Tiffany repeated, her eyebrows shooting up. “Isaac Wells?”

“Because Wells is claiming that he was his silent partner,” Jarrod said. “Says he helped mastermind the crimes and case the places Ray would rob. He left town because Ray was getting out of prison, and he was afraid for his life, or something. Anyway, now he's willing to turn state's evidence against Ray Dean in return for immunity from prosecution.”

Luke's mind was racing ahead. He didn't give a hoot about Isaac Wells or Ray Dean or how they were involved in crime together. But he sure as hell was concerned about Katie, and it looked as if, because of her articles and the letter Isaac sent her that she published, she might be a link between the two thieves. “Did Isaac Wells write the letter to Katie?”

“That, I don't know. But if he did, he didn't contact her again because his attorney wanted him to deal directly with the police.”

Luke's throat felt like sandpaper. He thought about the crank calls she'd received, about the feeling he'd had that someone had been watching her, waiting in the shadows at the hotel and at her home. Even after she'd moved this close to him, he'd spent more hours than he'd like to admit, sitting in the dark, staring out his window, watching the main house, scouring the darkness for any hint of a prowler. But he wasn't convinced. “Do you think Katie's in any danger?”

“I don't know. Hell, I hope not” But there was a note of apprehension in Jarrod's voice that Luke couldn't ignore. “Just let her know what's going on. When she gets in, have her give me a call.”

“I will,” Luke promised and promptly hung up.

Tiffany motioned toward the phone. “What was that all about?” she demanded. “You said something about danger.”

“Isaac Wells is back in town.” He gave her a quick rundown as he reached for the handle of the door. “If you want more details, call Jarrod back. There's probably nothing wrong,” he said, disturbed and telling himself that he was being a dozen kinds of fool. “I'm going to check on Katie.”

“I'll stay here with the kids,” Tiffany said, her usually dark skin turning an ashen shade.

“Do that.” He ran to his pickup and climbed inside as the two boys stopped their jumps for a second. The way Luke figured it, he could be at the cottage in less than ten minutes. He reminded himself this was probably just a wild-goose chase. Katie was probably safe. She might not even be at the cottage, but he wasn't going to rest until he found her. He backed his truck into the street, flung it into first gear and roared down the street.

He didn't give a damn if he looked like a fool; he wasn't about to take a chance with the life of the woman he loved.

* * *

“I think you and I should go for a ride,” Ray said, and Katie, rooted to the floor of the cottage, tried to maintain her rapidly escaping wits.

She shook her head.

“Whatever it is you have to tell me, you can say it right here.” It would certainly be more dangerous to leave with him. At least she was in an environment she knew, with neighbors just across the fence.

“We could be interrupted.”

“So what?” She was thinking fast, trying to get her bearings. If she could get over her fear and if Ray meant her no harm, she might have stumbled on the answer to the Isaac Wells mystery. But what if he did intend to hurt her? What then? Her legs threatened to give out on her, and for the first time since her interest in the Isaac Wells disappearance began, she questioned whether or not she wanted to be involved. “You're not in trouble with the police, are you?”

“Always.” He lifted a shoulder, and she tried to determine if he was carrying a weapon. There were no bulges in the pockets of his coveralls, but a knife would be easy to conceal. Even a small handgun could be hidden somewhere on his body. Not that it made a huge difference—not when there was the size of him to consider. At over six feet and two hundred pounds, he was way too strong for her to try to overpower him. No, she'd have to use her brains.

“Do you know where Isaac Wells is?” she asked Ray.

“No.”

“Is he alive?”

“I think so.”

“Why?”

He studied her carefully, as if, now that he had her full attention, he wasn't sure how much of his story to divulge. “I have connections.”

“Connections? Who? What?”

“Someone trustworthy.”

Her mind was racing, her skin prickling with dread. “A snitch? A
trustworthy
snitch?” She tried to keep the disbelief out of her voice.

Ray's lips flattened at the insult. “Has he contacted you since you got the last letter?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I thought he would, but I haven't heard a word. No letters or phone calls…well, except for some hang-ups.”

“That was me.”

“You?” She was sweating now, adrenaline rushing through her system.

“But they started coming before the letter was published…” Her voice faded away, and she wondered how long this man had been watching her, following her. Her skin crawled at the thought of what he might have seen. “You…were watching me?” She thought she might be sick.

“I had to know what was going on.”

So Luke had been right. She'd dismissed his concerns as some kind of overprotective paranoia, but his sense of dread had been justified. “Look, if you want me to help you…” She let her voice drop off. “Is that it? You want me to do something?”

“I want you to level with me. I think you know where Isaac Wells is.”

“I don't.” She shook her head. “I swear. The only contact I've had with him is the one letter.”

“My source said he was returning to town. Was gonna turn himself in, but first he would contact you.”

“Why?”

“Good question. I thought it was so that he could give you some more B.S. and lies that you'd publish in the paper.”

“No,” Katie insisted and heard the familiar sound of a pickup turning in at the drive.

Ray's nostrils flared, as if he'd encountered a bad smell. “Who's here?” he demanded.

“I don't know.”

“Liar.”

“Really. No one knows I'm here.”

Ray's face clouded. He reached into his pocket, and Katie couldn't help but back up a step. There was a horrid click, the sound of metal snapping. A switchblade flashed. “Oh, God,” she whispered.

At that moment, the sound of Luke's boots hit the back porch. She looked through the window and shook her head as she spied his rugged face, twisted with concern. “Katie?” He knocked loudly as Ray stepped away from the door. “You in there?”

“Go away!” she yelled.

“Shh.” Ray reached forward, grabbing her arm, but she resisted, pulling away, kicking at him with her feet, hearing the sound of Luke swearing and banging on the door.

“Let go of me!” She yanked away, but he grabbed her again, forcing her close, the smell of grease from his uniform filling her nostrils. Hard muscles restrained her, and the knife was ever-present in his left hand.

“Katie!” Luke's voice thundered through the house.

“Who's that?” Ray snarled.

“A friend.”

“Tell him to get the hell out.”

“Luke, go away!” she cried, as worried for him as she was for herself.

There was a split second of silence.

Crash! Glass splintered and sprayed. A body, huddled against the impact, burst into the room and rolled over the broken glass.

“Damn.” Ray twirled, lifting Katie off her feet as Luke, recovering, found his footing and, all muscles flexed, eyes glimmering with fire, advanced.

“Stop!” Ray commanded.

“Let her go,” Luke ordered through lips that barely moved.

Ray's grip tightened. Katie could scarcely breathe. “Get out!” he shouted at Luke.

“Are you okay?” Luke's gaze touched Katie's for an instant.

“Get out or I'll cut her,” Ray threatened. The knife was poised high, glinting in the fading sunlight. “I swear it, man.”

“Leave her be.” Luke didn't move, just crouched, his gaze trained on the knife.

Fear congealed in Katie's blood. “Let me go,” she demanded. “There's no reason for this.”

Tense, appearing as if he'd lunge at any second, Luke took a step toward Ray. “Who are you?”

“Stop right there.”

The arm around Katie's waist jerked hard, and she gasped. Luke froze. Ray pulled her backward, toward the living room, his boots crunching on the bits of glass scattered on the old linoleum.

Katie's heart thudded wildly. There was nothing she could do. “You—you haven't been in this kind of trouble before, Ray,” she said.

“Ray?” Luke repeated, his expression wary. “Ray Dean?”

Sweat streamed from Ray's face.

“Just let her go and we'll talk this out,” Luke insisted.

“Nothin' to talk about.”

“Sure, there is. You told me about Isaac Wells,” Katie said. “That you think he's going to frame you or something. Why don't you let me write
your
side of the story?”

She felt him hesitate.

“If you do anything now you'd be thrown back in prison for a long, long time. And Isaac would get away scot-free. Think about your kids,” she said, sensing him listening, hearing his breathing slow a bit. “Laddy and Miles need a dad who isn't in prison.”

“They're used to it.” He glanced at Katie. Luke sprang forward. Startled, Ray stumbled a bit. His hold on Katie loosened a little. She threw herself away from him. “Don't move!” Ray's knife arced downward. Katie screamed and looked for something—anything—to use as a weapon. Luke caught Ray's wrist, and the knife trembled as the men struggled.

Grunting, swearing, muscles straining, they wrestled each other to the floor. Glass crunched. Katie ran for the door, her feet slipping on the shards. She threw the bolt, shouldered open the door and, screaming for help, grabbed the only thing she could find—Josh's old baseball bat that had been left in the corner.

Sirens wailed in the distance, and a truck roared to a stop behind Ray's van. From the corner of her eye, Katie spied Jarrod bolting out of his pickup. “Get away!” he yelled, running up the steps, two at a time.

But it was already over. Luke, straddling Ray's chest, had him pinned to the floor.

“Hell, Katie, what were you thinking?” Jarrod demanded as she followed him into the house. Outside, a police cruiser slammed to a stop.

“I thought I was renting my house.”

“What happened here?” a female cop demanded. She and her partner, weapons drawn, ran through the back door. She stopped when she recognized the man sprawled on the floor, pinned by a strong-willed cowboy. “Well, well, well. Ray Dean. Why aren't I surprised that you'd be in the middle of this?”