Love Inspired Suspense June 2015 #1 (52 page)

“Regardless of whether he set up the attacks, Len still put you in danger by hiding this here. Honestly, Gretchen, I'd rather see you live than protect a piece of canvas.”

“He must have had his reasons, or his fear of losing it caused him not to think clearly until it was too late. Even so, I don't hold anything against him. I want to believe that he was apologizing for stashing this here, not for dousing the place. Don't be mad at him. Please.”

“For you, Goldie, I won't be. And I'll put this back. Mum's the word. But this also means the crew's not going anywhere.” Colm laid the painting back in its hiding place and concealed it by lowering the door over it.

“Colm, I can't pay for the extra repairs. It's over.”

“I didn't say anything about you paying. I've been saving some money for my ma. I had this crazy idea that I could buy her freedom.”

Gretchen tilted her head and frowned. “I'm sorry to say this, but it would take more than money to break the hold your stepfather has over her.”

“I guess I've always known that, but I still saved the money in hopes that maybe I could show her she didn't need him to take care of her.”

“Then I definitely can't take your money when you're saving it for such a noble cause.”

“A lost cause. I have to accept that Gil Griffin's chains are permanent. It won't matter how much money I save, Ma will never leave him.”

“I'll pray for her. Every day.”

“Thank you. And I'll use what I have to cover the costs here and appease Troy.”

“No, Colm, I can't ask you to do that.”

“You didn't, but it would be all right if you did, you know. There's nothing wrong with asking for help. It doesn't make you weak. God tells us that those who trust in themselves are fools, but those who walk in wisdom are kept safe. Let me keep you safe, Goldie. By making sure you have a home.”

Colm turned his body until he faced her, and his knee brushed against hers. He reached out to stroke her cheek. “Please, let me help you.”

The struggle for her independence showed on her face. Colm traced the lines of worry near her eyes with his thumb. She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them before she visibly relaxed under his touch.

He turned her face to his. “You're so brave. You know that, right?”

She shrugged slightly.

“Aye. You are. Since the day I met you, you wore the look of determination I always wished to see in my ma.”

“Oh, Colm, I'm so sorry she has to live like that. That you had to live like that, too.”

“Not to worry about me. It's all grand now. Even more so since I came to your island.”

“How's that?”

“Something Sheriff Matthews said when I was at the department has really made things clear. My mother was protecting me when I had wanted to protect her. She sent me away when all I wanted was to help her. At the time it hurt, but I see now she feared I would become another bully like Gil. And she was right in her thinking. I would have and even did.”

“No,” Gretchen argued. “I told you that's not who you are.” She put her hand over his. “You're gentle. You're hardworking.” She smiled. “You're funny.”

Colm dropped his gaze to her lips so close to his. Her smile trembled. “Is that all?” he whispered.

She shook her head. “You're caring and protective and...beautiful.” Her gaze drifted to his lips. A puff of air escaped hers. Colm hoped the battle within her was coming to an end.

“Gretchen,” Colm whispered, “you've turned me inside out. The only way I'm right again is to be near you. You give me so much hope,
a chara, a stór, a ghrá. A chuisle mo chroí.
”

“What does that mean?”

“My friend, my treasure, my love. You are the pulse of my heart.”

“Oh, Colm, I don't think we—”

“Wait. Don't push me away. Not yet. Let me kiss you. Please.”

Moments passed. If no response came from her lips, he would have to let her go. He wouldn't push her to make a decision she would regret.

No answer came.

“Not to worry, love,” he assured her and pulled back, but before he departed a mere inch from her, Gretchen pressed in, reaching around the back of his head and pulling him in to meet her lips.

The shock of her movements vanished in an instant as Colm met her and took control of the kiss. This had not been an easy decision for her, and Colm wouldn't take it for granted.

The touch of her sweet lips made him think he could believe all those wonderful things she said about him. She was a smart woman and would never bestow such a precious gift on an undeserving street fighter. No, Gretchen would offer such a gift of letting down her barriers only for someone she loved.

Loved.

Colm deepened the kiss at this revelation. Could it be? Could the amazingly beautiful and intelligent Gretchen Bauer love him? A lowlife from the slums of Dublin?

Colm was so bowled over at the thought that he missed the pressure on his chest. He mistook the strain for the rapid beating of his heart, but another push tore him from Gretchen's lips and sent him a foot back. Her barriers were reerected like a stone-cold wall between them. Colm could see the fear in her eyes.

“I would never harm you. Please tell me you know this,” he pleaded as he reached for her hands.

Gretchen quickly stood. “This won't happen again. I'm sorry.”

Colm looked up at her. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I wasn't apologizing to you. I was apologizing to myself. You've made a promise to yourself not to fight. Well, I've also made one. There's no place for you in my life. I'm on my own.” She made tracks to the door and rushed down the stairs.

Colm jumped to his feet and followed her down the attic stairs. At the hall she was making her way down the grand staircase.

“Gretchen, can we talk about this?” he called out as she reached the first floor and opened the front door.

Sheriff Matthews stood on the other side, bringing her to a halt. “Gretchen, I need to speak with you.”

Colm made his way down the stairs to hear what news the lawman brought. Was Gretchen in more danger? He came up beside her and waited to hear what the sheriff had to say.

The man looked from Gretchen to him and said, “Sorry, Colm, but I need to speak with her alone.”

When Lydia had said this the day before, Gretchen had requested he stay.

She didn't this time.

Colm left her side and passed through the door. He nodded at Sheriff Matthews as he went by. “That's all right. That's the way she likes things. Alone.”

TWELVE

“W
e need your secrecy on a matter that has landed on the shores of Stepping Stones and involves someone on the crew...and now involves all of us,” Sheriff Matthews stated when he was sure the house stood empty, minus the two of them.

“More secrets?” Gretchen sighed. “I'm so tired of them.”

“I understand your hesitation, and typically I would never ask, but I don't believe Len is the one responsible for hurting you, which means you're still in danger.”

Gretchen walked to the stairs and took the first step for a seat. Owen joined her. “I had thought he was admitting to hurting me. He'd apologized for the attic, and I believed the worst of him.” Tears filled her eyes, but she stopped them before they spilled out. “But the turpentine wasn't what he was talking about. He was apologizing because he hid his most valuable possession in my attic. His painting.” She looked at the ceiling.

Owen's eyes widened. “The painting's here? Right now?”

She nodded. “Nobody stole it. I'm thinking Len got scared that someone would come for it, and he must have thought it would be safe with me and hid it in a hiding place that I didn't even know existed.” She looked at Owen and sighed. “And it's all my fault. He was attacked by someone who wanted it because I alerted the world to its existence. I might as well have handwritten the invite.”

“How do you figure?”

“Remember when Troy came to the island to interview me? After I showed him around the island and this house, I took him back to the restaurant and we sat in front of the fireplace. The last screen shot was of the painting hanging above us. So you see, I did this. Anyone could have seen that clip and come looking for it. Even try to kill for it.”

“There's more to the story, Gretchen. More that I just recently found out myself.”

“What is it?”

“This is where I need your secrecy. I shouldn't be even telling you. I'm sure I'm breaking a federal law, but we decided you could aid us in narrowing down the suspects who are after this painting.”

“Aid you? And what do you mean by
federal
?”

“Can you promise you'll keep it quiet? It could mean putting lives at risk if you let anything slip.”

“I understand.”

“Your aid could put a stop to the crimes right here and for good.”

“Crimes? As in plural? You mean this isn't the first?”

He shook his head. “And won't be the last unless they are caught.”

Someone was out there victimizing innocent people—including herself—for artwork? How could she say no? “What is it you need me to do?”

“Can I take this as your promise?”

Gretchen straightened up with an emphatic nod. “I will help catch whoever is trying to hurt people for their own gain. Where do we begin?”

“Hold up just a second.” Owen grabbed the radio at his shoulder and pushed the button to speak. “Come on in. It's a go.”

“Is that Wesley?”

The next second Ethan appeared above her, coming through the servants' quarters. He stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down at them.

Gretchen jumped to her feet. “Ethan, what are you doing here? You shouldn't be in the house. How much did you hear?”

“Enough.” He took the first step down, his gait slow and deliberate. He came another few stairs and Gretchen eased back, nearly falling into the hole that Colm had yet to finish. “Enough to know you can be trusted,” Ethan said as he reached the landing. Ethan put his hand out. “I'm Special Agent Ethan Hunt, undercover for the FBI. I'm sure you figured out by now that I'm not a painter.” He flashed a genuine smile, but Gretchen couldn't make herself respond.

“Gretchen,” Owen said, “this is the secret we need you to keep. If word gets out the production crew is being watched by the FBI, there could be a backlash we have yet to see the likes of.”

“Worse than someone trying to kill me?”

“Ethan doesn't think anyone's been trying to kill you.”

“Seriously?” Gretchen couldn't believe Owen's words.

Ethan explained, “If they wanted you dead, you'd be dead. I believe they just wanted you off the property so they could look around for the painting. I'm pretty sure whoever doused the place with turpentine to cause your asthma attack was also the one who rescued you and got you to the clinic.”

“Really?” Gretchen was still incredulous.

“My point being, if it should slip that the FBI is onto someone in this crew for art theft, those setups will be carried through to the fullest extent.”

Air rushed from Gretchen's lungs. “Meaning no more accidents, only death.”

The two men didn't have to answer.

“I can't believe this,” she mumbled before accepting Ethan's words. “So, how long has this been going on?”

“Right about the time Colm came on.”

The air in her lungs rushed out. “You think Colm is behind this? But he was at the police station when I got locked in the attic. He couldn't have done it or rescued me.”

“He could have an accomplice. Someone he trusts with his life.”

“Sly.”

Both men nodded, and Gretchen's heart rate sped up to the point she felt it pulsing through her head. It couldn't be Colm. He was a good man. She'd finally seen it. His past didn't define him anymore. He'd said he was a new creation in Christ. That Sly had introduced him to God and told him there was always another way.

“Another way,” she mumbled.

“Another way for what?” Ethan asked.

“Nothing. It's nothing,” she replied, but deep down she had to wonder if fencing art was Colm's other way of fighting back against a world that had cut him down so many times.

“He always wanted me to go to the clinic. Right from the first accident. The first day I met him, he said I shouldn't even be on the scene. It wasn't customary for the home owner to stay.”

“I'm sure it made things easier in the past for them.”

“Past? How many thefts have there been?”

“Thanks to you, it will be stopping at five.”

“Five.” A horrid thought popped into her head. “What about Len? Colm could never have beaten him up. I know this.”

“How do you know it? Gretchen, Colm McCrae was a street fighter. His track record proves he could have done it...and has.”

“But he says God has changed him. Come on, Owen, you know the transformation God can accomplish in our lives when we follow Him. I have to believe He did it for Colm, too.”

“Why do you have to believe that?”

Because I kissed him, and I wanted to do it again
. The words blared through her head. When she had leaned into him and forgot all her vows so easily, her actions scared her. To feel such strong emotions for another man, after she pledged never to feel that way again, proved she was weak.

She thought of how she had melted at his beautiful Irish words. Billy had never been so graceful with his words. Colm McCrae was the smoothest talker out there.

“Maybe I shouldn't be helping you,” Gretchen said. “I may not be strong enough for this task.”

“We think you are, or we wouldn't have asked,” Ethan assured her. “Don't worry about messing things up. I'm going to return as painter, and you just continue as usual. I'll follow my suspicions where they lead, which reminds me, I'm sorry I left you the night you were locked in the attic. I caught Troy snooping around after hours and followed him until he went back to his trailer.”

“Troy!” Gretchen exclaimed. “He's mean and selfish and only cares about money. Are you considering him?”

“Of course, we're considering all the crew members who have been at the reported theft locations. But as I said, the art started to disappear from people's homes when Colm came on the program. He has a mother he's trying to get over to the States.”

“His savings fund,” Gretchen remembered aloud. “He said he would use some of it to fix my house, so the crew could stay on and finish. He literally just told me about it upstairs when—”

“When what?” Ethan asked.

“When we found the painting together. Colm knows where it is. In fact, he said it was a van Gogh.”

“Wow. They're going after a van Gogh this time, are they? And he knew what he was looking at?”

Gretchen nodded. The dread made her take her seat again on the bottom step.

Colm was guilty? No, she couldn't believe it.

Sheriff Matthews cleared his throat as he peered out the window. “Colm's coming. What should we do about the painting? Should we move it?”

“No,” Ethan said. “Right now he's the only one besides Gretchen and Len who knows where it is. Len's at the hospital on the mainland. So if it goes missing, we know who took it.”

Nausea rolled in Gretchen's stomach. She felt as if she was now the hated puppet master pulling the strings. Never would she have wanted to play this part.

Colm's booted footsteps hit the porch. Each beat jerked her shoulders.

“Get ready, Gretchen. It's showtime.”

Sheriff Matthews opened the door before Colm could knock. “Colm, I'm glad you're here. I brought back Ethan. We've checked him out and he's clean.”

“Well, you can take him right back out with you. I don't want him anywhere near this site.”

Ethan stepped up, his hands out to plead. “I'm sorry I exaggerated on my résumé, but please, I need this job. You don't understand. I have family struggling with health and finances. I did what I had to for them.”

Colm clenched his jaw, and just as he began to shake his head, Gretchen stood up and spoke, even though each word caused her physical pain: “Colm, you said you would do whatever you could to get my house finished in time for the grand opening. The fact is, Ethan is the only painter you have on the crew. We need him.
I
need him. Please, let him stay.”

Colm's face blanched. He took his eyes off her and looked at Ethan for a long moment. Back and forth his gaze passed between them until finally he nodded once. No happiness shined in his eyes. In fact, Gretchen thought his usual light dulled before her. He exited without a word, and for the first time in her life she knew what it felt like to control another human being.

“I'm going to be sick.”