Deadline (34 page)

H
e drove with the car windows down. The salt air was soft, the surf calm as it sometimes was just after daybreak. As he neared Amelia’s beach house, his eyes were inexorably drawn to the one where Carl Wingert had spent summers as Bernie.

That was the only thought Dawson gave the man, and it was more consideration than the reprobate deserved.

He didn’t expect Amelia or the boys to be up yet, but as he alighted, he spotted her on the beach. She was walking near the waterline, a pair of flip-flops dangling from her fingers. She was dressed in roomy, thin cotton pants and a tank top, which she’d probably slept in. Her hair was in a messy topknot. She’d never looked so good to him.

He had covered over half the distance between them before she saw him. She dropped her sandals and met him at a full run. He caught her against him and they kissed hungrily. They didn’t come up for air for several minutes, and when they did, they continued to hold each other as though to assure themselves that they were together again after a ten-day separation.

She leaned back into the firm circle of his arms so she could look up into his face. “How was it?”

“North Dakota can be cold even in September. Around freezing one morning I was there.”

She brushed a windblown strand of hair off his scruffy cheek, then laid both palms on his chest. In a softer voice, she asked, “How was it?”

“It was good,” he replied, matching her serious tone. “They’re wonderful people. Salt of the earth. American flag flying proudly from the eaves of the house. Pot roast for dinner. There were pictures of Hawkins all over the house. They wanted to hear everything.”

Shortly after Dawson’s return from Afghanistan, he’d received a letter from Corporal Hawkins’s parents, asking him to please call them. They expressed an earnest wish to talk to him about their son and his last few days. They repeated the request in voice mails, e-mails, and additional letters. “He thought so highly of you, Mr. Scott. Please call us.”

He hadn’t been able to bring himself to make that call.

But talking through the incident with Amelia had been the catharsis he’d needed. Once the ban on the topic of Hawkins had been lifted, he could think about him without cringing inside. As soon as he had accompanied Headly home to DC, he booked a flight to North Dakota.

“They told me everything about him. I met his brother, two sisters, six nieces and nephews. I was shown his baseball trophies and high school prom pictures. Our talks were heartrending, but healing for them as well as for me.”

“I want to hear all about it whenever you’re ready to tell me.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “Sleeping better?”

“Two nights in a row without the nightmare.”

“Definite progress.”

“Thanks to you.”

Several sessions with a therapist in DC had helped enormously, too, although he still gave more credit to Amelia than to the man with all the framed degrees on his office wall.

“How are Headly and Eva?” she asked.

“He gets better every day. The Bureau urged him to reactivate until Carl’s case is closed. But that’ll take a while, so he declined.”

“I’m surprised by that.”

“I was, too. But he explained that nothing could top that dramatic ending in the hospital, with Carl screaming invectives and begging for somebody to kill him.”

She dropped her forehead against his chest. “When I woke up, and you weren’t there, I thought—”

“Carl thought so, too. That was the point. But no such luck for him. Headly wanted a face-off. I helped because I knew how important it was for him to confront his enemy. He would never have been satisfied with less.”

“Nor would you.”

“You know me well.”

She pressed a kiss to his throat, and when she pulled away, she said, “So, it was easy for Headly to turn down the Bureau’s request that he stay on?”

“Made much easier by Eva. She told him if he returned to work, she was going to grind up Viagra in his food and then withhold sexual favors.”

“She’d do it, too.”

“You bet your life. By the way, she invited us up for Thanksgiving.” He stroked her hair. “How was your trip to Kansas?”

“Quick, but I didn’t want to leave the boys with the Metcalfs for more than one night. The memorial service was terribly sad.”

“I’m sure Stef’s parents were touched that you went.”

“They said as much. At least they were relieved of having to go through a trial. Jeremy’s dying spared them that.” She hesitated for a moment, then added, “I saw to his cremation.”

He held her face between his hands and searched her eyes. “We’ve got a lot of forgetting to do, Amelia.”

“I know.”

“I can’t wait to get started.”

“Me, either.” And for a long moment they just looked at each other with full understanding.

After a time, she nodded toward the house that Bernie had occupied. “I’m happy to report that it’s been sold. The realtor who brokered the deal was out here yesterday with a contractor. The new owner is having it torn down and plans to replace it with a larger, more contemporary house that he’ll rent long-term.

“It can’t be razed fast enough, as far as I’m concerned,” she continued. “Every time I glance in that direction…” She trailed off and tilted her head in puzzlement. “You don’t seem at all surprised by this news.” She stared at him for seconds more, then realization dawned in her eyes. “You bought it.”

“You could never sell this house. It means too much to you. The only solution was to get rid of that one.”

“I can’t let you do that,” she exclaimed.

“I have a trust from my folks that I’ve never touched. It seemed fitting to do this with some of the money. Carl didn’t sire me, but he tortured my mother and left me to die. I don’t want any reminders of him around when we’re here.” She was about to protest further, but he stopped her. “It’s done.”

She relented, asking quietly, “Did they find Flora’s diary?”

“Yes. Mostly intact. Headly’s read some of it. He’s having the contents transcribed for me.”

She looked at him expectantly.

He raised one shoulder. “I don’t know that I’ll ever read it. Maybe. Right now, I need a break from all that.”

“Will you ever want to know who your father was?”

“No. It’s enough—more than enough—to know it wasn’t Carl. My quarrel with him wasn’t fathering me, it was abandoning me. My DNA ruled out that any of the men who died in Golden Branch had sired me. I don’t see the point of continuing the saga.”

Her arms tightened around his waist. She rested her cheek on his chest. “Will you write the story?”

“Harriet’s bugging me to, but I’ve told her no. I couldn’t write it without including you and the boys. I won’t do that.” He pushed his hand under her tank top and stroked her back, marveling over how familiar and wonderful the feel of her skin was, shuddering to think how close he came to foolishly denying himself this woman.

“I’ve considered writing about Hawkins. His parents endorsed the idea. Military suicides are at an all-time high. It speaks volumes that a young man with a background as solid as his could sink to that depth of despair. The theme would be the effects of combat even on those with the strongest fiber. It could be a worthwhile piece.”

“Written by the best.”

“Awww,” he drawled and eased her cheek off his chest so he could whisk a kiss across it. But when he tried to kiss her in earnest, she resisted. “What?”

“You said of this house ‘when
we’re
here,’ and that Eva had invited
us
for Thanksgiving. Come Thanksgiving, will we still be an us?”

“I’m counting on it. You’re not?”

“Yes.
Yes
. Definitely.”

“Good to know.”

“But how will it work? The boys went back to school this week. I was planning to buy a house with a yard and a dog. George embraced the idea of having a room at the museum devoted to PTSD. If we get it past the board, I want to oversee the project. I’ll want to be involved if Daddy’s house is enshrined.” She looked at him ruefully. “And you live in Virginia.”

“Right. We’ve got some stuff to sort out, but they’re practical matters. Nothing insurmountable. So long as I meet deadlines and attend an occasional editorial meeting, my job is more or less portable.

“I may read Flora’s diary, or not. I’ll draft a story about Hawkins and then decide if I want it to be published. If not, I’ll write about something else. And when the boys get old enough to learn about their lineage, we’ll explain it. They’ll come to terms with it just as I have. We’ll help them with whatever problems arise. The point is, we don’t have to figure it all out today. We
can’t
figure it all out today.”

Placing his lips against hers, he whispered, “We’re past the heavy stuff, Amelia. By comparison, the rest of it will be a breeze. Let’s let up on ourselves for a while. We’ll make decisions on an as-needed basis, love each other like crazy, and live one day at a time.”

She smiled against his lips. “Sounds like a plan. I’m especially fond of the part about loving each other like crazy.”

“Yeah, I like that part, too.”

He cupped the back of her head and was settling in for a long, deep kiss, when she groaned, “We’ve got company.”

Hunter and Grant, still in pajamas, were racing toward them, their bare feet thudding on the boardwalk.

Amelia yelled at them to be careful of splinters but the caution didn’t slow them down. Gleefully shouting his name, they ran pell-mell toward them.

She gave him a dubious smile. “Are you sure you want to take them on?”

“That’s one decision already made.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist, so that when the boys tackled him into the sand, she went with him.

Low Pressure

Lethal

Mirror Image

Where There’s Smoke

Charade

Exclusive

Envy

The Switch

The Crush

Fat Tuesday

Unspeakable

The Witness

The Alibi

Standoff

Best Kept Secrets

Breath of Scandal

French Silk

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Title Page
Welcome
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Diary of Flora Stimel
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Diary of Flora Stimel
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Diary of Flora Stimel
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Diary of Flora Stimel
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Diary of Flora Stimel
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Diary of Flora Stimel
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Diary of Flora Stimel
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Novels by Sandra Brown
Newsletters
Copyright