Bear My Heart: A Small Town Paranormal Romance (13 page)

Megan's eyes were red and
puffy and she stood up as soon as she saw Troy and Brandon. Logan
was sitting at her side, fidgeting anxiously.

“I just called all of
Leo's friends and classmates,” Megan said in a hysterical,
high-pitched voice. “He's not with them.” She turned
pleadingly to Troy. “I called the Sheriff as well. He's on
his way. I don't know what else to do...”

“We'll find him,”
Troy said. He looked around quickly. “Where's Ol...Dot?”

Megan sniffed. “I
don't know. I asked her to come home with me and have dinner
together. She was supposed to meet me out front. I went to get the
boys, and I only found Logan. I haven't seen her...”

“I saw Dot,”
Logan interjected.

Megan rounded on him. “When?
Where?”

“That's what I've been
trying to tell you, Mom,” Logan cried. “But you kept
interrupting and asking me about Leo.”

Troy looked at his nephew who
was fighting back angry, frightened tears. “Logan,” Troy
said gently. “When did you see Dot?”

“J-just before Mom ran
up to me and demanded to know where Leo was,” Logan stammered,
glancing at his mother.

“Was Dot alone when you
saw her? Where did you see her?” Troy continued.

Logan nodded. “She was
standing here, in front of the counter. She was alone. The man said
to give her the envelope only if she was alone.”

“What man?”

“What envelope?”

“Why didn't you tell
us?”

Logan looked scared as he
stared at the adults in front of him. “Did I do something
wrong?” he whimpered. “Mom?”

“No, sweetheart, of
course not.” Megan wiped away her tears and hugged her son.
“Of course not.”

“Logan, who told you to
give Dot the envelope?” Troy demanded.

“A man. I was reading
a book when a man came and sat beside me. He knew my name. He told
me to give Dot the envelope.”

“Did you see Dot open
the envelope?”

Logan nodded. “Yeah.
She pulled out a piece of paper. Then I ran off to find Leo.”

Megan turned around and
grabbed Troy's hands. “Oh, Troy, what's happening? This
doesn't make sense...”

“Someone is stalking
Dot. But he's not just a stalker,” Troy snarled. “Dot...Olga,
her real name is Olga. She's been hiding and running from him for
years.”

Brandon caught Megan as her
legs gave out suddenly. Her eyes were wide with horror and
comprehension. “Running? What do you mean?” Megan
whispered. “Who is this man she's running from?”

“The man who is after
Olga is a rapist and a murderer.”

Megan froze. “And he
has Leo,” she said, with a mother's unerring intuition. “The
blood on the bathroom floor...” Her voice was impassive and
frighteningly calm.

Then she screamed.

“No! No!” Megan
struggled furiously but Brandon held her tight.

At that moment, the Sheriff
and his deputy rushed into the library.

Megan slid to the floor, her
face twisted in anguish. “I want to find my baby! Please find
my baby! If he's harmed a hair on Leo's head, I will kill him! I
swear I will kill him!”

CHAPTER
THIRTY-EIGHT

Olga sat in the back seat and
cradled Leo's head in her lap. The boy twitched and whimpered softly
but his eyes remained closed. “Wake up, Leo,” she
whispered, shaking him gently. The boy's lower lip was split but it
was no longer bleeding.

Olga looked up and scowled.
“What did you do to him? Let him go. It's me you want. The
boy has nothing to do with this. With me.”

The Artist laughed but he
didn't stop the car.

Olga jerked at the handle but
the car door remained locked. She stared out the tinted window and
realized that she was invisible to the people on the street. All
they would see was a car with dark windows zooming past. They
couldn't see her and Leo in the back seat.

The Artist had warned her as
he escorted her to the car, “If you attract attention to
yourself, I'll press this little red button.” He showed her a
small device like a remote control in his pocket. “Boom! The
car explodes, with the boy in it.”

He had been quick and
meticulous. He'd knocked Leo unconscious in the bathroom and dragged
the boy into a cubicle. A window pane had already been removed. He
bundled the boy through the window and climbed out. In a minute, he
had the boy safely stowed in his car. All he had to do was walk
calmly round to the front of the library and wait.

Olga watched the Artist as he
drove them swiftly out of town. When she met his eyes in the rear
view mirror, she shivered and looked away.

She remembered his eyes. The
Artist had always worn a hood when he was with her. He had held her
for five months and she had never seen his face. Only his eyes.

And his greenish-blue eyes
had looked so much like Steven Quinn's. At first glance, she had
thought that he was Steven Quinn, the man who was serving time for
all those crimes he'd confessed to. But he wasn't Steven Quinn. He
was the Artist.

He wasn't wearing a hood now.
He was wearing a nice suit, with a light blue shirt under the
jacket. He looked like any ordinary, nondescript business executive
or salesman. His pale blond hair was neatly combed back and he was
wearing boring wire-rimmed glasses. No one would pay much attention
to him. He didn't look dangerous and he didn't stand out.

But his eyes.

They were as cold and cruel
as she remembered.

Olga stared at his side
profile again.

She couldn't believe how
alike they looked.

She had known all along that
Steven Quinn wasn't the Artist.

Steven Quinn had a twin
brother.

Steven and Simon Quinn were
the spoiled grandsons of a reclusive millionaire. The Quinn brothers
were wealthy, privileged trust fund kids. They were too used to
taking what they wanted without having to work for anything.

“Why would your brother
do that?” Olga asked softly.

“Hmm?” The
Artist gave a sardonic smile.

“Why did Steven Quinn
confess to your crimes?”

“Because Steven's a
fool.”

They were driving out of Bear
Cove and heading down a long, lonely stretch of highway. There were
no cars on the road, no buildings anywhere in sight. Only the trees
stood silently at the side of the road and watched a black car
disappear over the horizon in a cloud of dust.

“Simon Quinn,”
Olga said his name out loud. He had been sitting at the back of the
courtroom that day, listening to her testimony and nodding at his
brother's convincing performance.

As the landscape became more
remote and desolate, Simon Quinn relaxed visibly. He leaned back in
the driver's seat and glanced over his shoulder at her.

“I miss you, Daniella.
Oh how I've missed you.” Simon released a long sigh. “But
now you'll never leave me again. You'll be my muse, forever, my
Daniella.”

CHAPTER
THIRTY-NINE

Troy told Sheriff Bob the
facts as quickly as he could, and he saw the skepticism on the
Sheriff's face. Sheriff Bob rubbed his chin, frowning deeply. “Are
you sure this guy is the Artist? The Artist was convicted and
sentenced. The guy confessed...”

“Yes,” Troy said
impatiently. “The guy confessed. And he did commit some of
the crimes he confessed to. But he is not the Artist.”

They were standing outside
the library, and Troy's eyes darted all around. He couldn't have
gone very far. Could the Artist have hidden Leo and Olga somewhere
nearby? He was a master at hiding in plain sight.

Deputy Kane came jogging
round from the back of the library. “A window in the toilet at
the back of the library has been removed. That's probably how he got
the boy out.”

“Any witnesses?”

“Nobody saw anything.
I spoke to the librarians and some parents but I got nothing
concrete. Their accounts weren't even consistent,” the Deputy
said.

Troy turned on his heel and
strode away.

“Troy!” Sheriff
Bob barked. “Where do you think you're going?”

“To get my mate and my
nephew,” Troy snarled.

“Wait...”

“I'm not waiting
another second,” Troy snapped. “Look, Sheriff. I
understand your position. There's not much evidence. It's just my
word, my crazed, unfounded suspicions. You don't know who or what
you're looking for. But I do.”

“What will you do?”
Sheriff Bob asked, running up to him. “You can't do this
alone. I'll call for reinforcements...”

Troy put a hand on the
Sheriff's shoulder. The Sheriff and his deputy were good men. The
tiny Sheriff Department of Bear Cove was understaffed and often
overlooked, but they did their best with the limited budget and
resources they had.

“Stay and protect the
town,” Troy told the Sheriff. “Make sure no one else is
missing.”

Troy strode to his truck and
wrenched the door open. “I will hunt the Artist down.”

“You can't go alone,”
Deputy Kane began nervously.

“Don't worry, I think I
can handle a psychopath on my own.” Troy gave a grim smile.
“I'm a bear shifter.”

“And two bears are
better than one,” Brandon declared, stuffing himself into the
passenger seat. “That's what my dad used to say.”

“Brandon,” Troy
said. “You don't need to do this.”

“That's Uncle Brandon,”
Brandon said hotly, glaring at him. “Leo and Logan have been
calling me 'Uncle Brandon' since they could talk. Look, I know
you're their real uncle, and I'm not, but...”

“What the fuck are you
talking about?” Troy said and started the engine. “You're
their favorite uncle.”

As he turned out to the main
road, Troy leaned out the window and shouted to Sheriff Bob, “Tell
Megan I'll bring Leo home. I promise.”

The Sheriff nodded. “Be
careful.”

CHAPTER
FORTY

Olga looked down and saw that
Leo was beginning to stir. She hoped that Simon Quinn hadn't heard
the boy groaning softly.

To distract Simon, she said
loudly, “I still don't understand why your brother would take
the rap for you.”

“As I said, Steven's a
bloody fool.” Simon laughed. “He thought he was doing
it for his daughter.”

Olga started. “Steven
Quinn has a daughter?”

“Yes. An unfortunate
product of one of his rapes. My brother felt...responsible for the
girl,” Simon said in disgust. “He knew he wouldn't get
away with his crimes. But he wanted to provide for his little girl.”

“So he cut me a deal.”
Simon shrugged. “Our grandfather set up a trust fund for the
both of us. If I agree to transfer my half of the trust fund to his
daughter, Steven would confess to everything and go to jail for me.
There was enough evidence to put him away for a long, long time. He
left his prints, his DNA all over the place. He wasn't like me. I
was real careful. Nothing can be traced to me,” Simon laughed
and shrugged. “Steven figured he was going to jail anyway, so
why not do it for his baby girl?”

Simon met her eyes in the
rear-view mirror and said with a quiet laugh, “Steven is not
like me at all. He's not an artist. He doesn't appreciate beauty
and art. He just takes what he wants and discards them when he's
done with them. I, on the other hand, like to keep my possessions
close to me.”

Dot lowered her eyes so he
wouldn't see her panic and revulsion.

“You are my muse,
Daniella. There's been no one else like you. You shouldn't have run
from me, Daniella.” Simon clucked his tongue reproachfully.

“I...I was wrong,”
Olga stuttered. “I won't run away again. I'll stay with you.
I'll be your muse.”

Simon smiled thinly. “You
don't know how long I've waited to hear you say that, Daniella.”

“You have me.”
Olga sucked in a quick breath to stop her voice from trembling. “You
don't need the boy. You can let him go. He won't remember a thing,
so he can't identify you.”

Simon smirked. “So you
care for the kid.”

“No! No I don't. I
don't even like kids,” she lied. “Having this kid with
us will just slow us down. I was thinking of us, that's all.”

Simon chortled. “I
love you, Daniella. I've always loved you. I've loved you since I
first saw you walking to school. It was fate.”

Olga bit her lip hard.

“I took a wrong turn
that morning and ended up in your neighborhood. I was looking for a
street sign when I saw you coming out of that house, and walking down
the street. Your face...there was just so much sadness and beauty
there. I drove behind you and followed you to school. I waited
until I saw you again. Every morning, I waited for you, Daniella. I
told myself I would have you one day.”