Midnight Sacrifice (15 page)

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Danny said, “but it’s not that complicated. I gave him the safety spiel.”

Doubt and fear lingered in Mandy’s belly. “He could hurt himself.”

“He could. But he could also accomplish something and feel good about himself,” Danny pointed out. “Everyone needs to be useful, Mandy.”

Her brother turned the mower and started a new row. Jed was nice to Bill, but he never let him help with chores. Single-minded with work, Jed wanted to get things done. Letting Bill help often meant the work took twice as long.

“It’s going to take him a long time to finish,” she pointed out.

“That’s all right. I don’t have anything else to do.” Sadness darkened Danny’s eyes as he tracked Bill’s progress. “And I like the smell of cut grass.”

Mandy backed away and reached for the doorknob. “You’ll watch him until he’s finished?”

“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

In the kitchen, Mandy leaned on the closed door. What was she going to do about Danny’s persistent presence?

Jed crossed the inn’s lawn, stifling the urge to run away from the sight of Mandy and Danny talking. His gaze strayed to the metallic purple muscle car. He hated to admit it, but the car was a damned nice ride.

Just as Danny Sullivan was a damned nice guy.

Jed opened the door to his truck. Honey jumped into the cab. She settled on the passenger seat with her head on her paws and heaved a depressed sigh. Even his favorite dog didn’t like him best. Honey’s bond with Bill grew stronger every day. That was what he wanted, wasn’t it?

“I know you wanted to stay and hang out with Bill. I didn’t want to leave either, but we aren’t needed.” Or at least Jed wasn’t needed at the inn, not as long as Danny was there. He had no right to be jealous or angry. If it weren’t for Danny, Jed would be dead, and God only knew what would’ve happened to Mandy. Nathan would’ve gotten her for sure.

He settled behind the wheel and pressed a hand to the never-ending ache in his gut.

He was grateful. He was.

But why did the guy have to come back here? Watching Mandy get all flustered over some other guy was rubbing Jed’s ego raw.

After all these years she didn’t see him as a man. She thought of him as a brother. Jed’s feelings were anything but brotherly. What could he do to change the way she felt about him? She wouldn’t let him do much around the inn, except to help out with Bill now and then. But Christ, he could barely lift a ladder. Bringing Honey to visit Bill was about the most useful thing Jed had done for Mandy in ages.

Jed shifted into drive and pulled out onto the road. He cruised to Main Street and turned right, heading out of town. He drove back to his house in silence. Honey sat up and put her
nose to the window as they neared his home on the outskirts of town. The truck bounced on the rutted drive and sharpened the pain in his belly. He parked and got out of the truck. From the kennels on one side of his compound, a chorus of barking greeted him. Each dog had an insulated doghouse and a run. His labs were tough hunting dogs, not pets. They lived outside in all but the worst weather. Except Honey. His hand rested on the golden head at his side. She’d always been meant for something more.

Exhaustion and pain clawed at his body, but the dogs came first. As much as he faked wellness in front of Mandy, Jed was not 100 percent. Shit, he wasn’t 60 percent of what he’d been, and the doctors hadn’t made any promises. Between the original wound and the sepsis that had invaded his body in the weeks after, Jed knew he’d cheated death. He’d all but high-fived the Grim Reaper. His heart had stopped twice. The doctors were surprised he was still alive. This could very well be Jed’s new permanent reality. Mandy blamed herself, but he didn’t. He’d do it all over again in a heartbeat to save her.

He’d do anything for Mandy.

In the shed behind the kennels, Jed lined up stainless steel bowls and filled them with kibble. He gave each dog a bowl of food and fresh water, then did a quick cleaning of the cages. Following him, Honey wagged and sniffed at each kennel door. Bear, the young chocolate lab in the first cage, was the next up-and-comer. Smart, willing, energy to spare. Jed had already received several very nice offers for the dog, but he had to have one dog in competition at all times. Plus, Bear was going to make a fine stud. This fall would be Bear’s year.

There’d be no more field trials for Honey.

Jed patted Bear on the head and secured the door. Too many kennels sat empty and dark. If he wasn’t going to breed Honey,
he should invest in another bitch, but the future just didn’t feel bright enough to plan very far ahead.

Full dark had fallen on the clearing by the time he crossed to the house. A brown package sat on his porch. He carried it inside, pulled his folding knife from his pocket, and slit the tape securing the end. He sat down at his desk. Inside a nest of packing peanuts sat a black box with a large white button. Honey rested her head next to the box as if she knew it was for her.

He fed Honey in the kitchen before heading for the shower. He stepped under the spray and turned his back to the pulsing water. The long, ugly scar that wrapped around his midsection was too tender for direct contact. Jed put his head under the cascading water. How much of a chance did he have of convincing Mandy he was a man, not just a friend? His fingers strayed to the puckered skin on his abdomen. He didn’t feel like much of a man, not when picking up a ladder felt like he was trying to lift a Chevy.

He turned off the shower and toweled off. Wait. He froze. There was one thing he could do for Mandy. Something that might convince her that what he felt for her was beyond brotherly affection.

He could find Nathan. Ha! If only his ruined body would hold up to the task, Jed could put an end to this whole thing. But Nathan’s knife had rendered Jed useless, emasculated him as surely as if the cut had been eight inches lower.

The memory of lying cold on the pavement, blood flowing out of his body like a hung deer, wasn’t the only thing that haunted Jed. Right after he’d stabbed Jed, Nathan had declared Mandy as his own. The cops could claim he was long gone till they ran out of wind. But Jed knew the truth. He wrapped the towel around his waist and went into the adjoining bedroom.

Finding Nathan for her wasn’t possible. Not for Jed.

His eyes strayed to the window. Just beyond the outdoor lights, the trees surrounding his cabin formed a black, impenetrable wall. Nathan was out there. Somewhere. He wanted Mandy, and if anyone got in his way, Nathan wouldn’t hesitate. He’d shown his true nature. Under all his polish, Nathan was a killer.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Boston, May 1975

A high-pitched scream jolted Nathan from a dead sleep. He rubbed his eyes. Was he dreaming?

Moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating his room in silvery gray and casting long, boogeyman-type shadows from the furniture. But Nathan wasn’t afraid of anything creeping up on him. He was too old to be afraid of the dark, and stark reality had replaced any nightmare that could spring from his imagination. No dream could possibly be worse than real life.

Another scream pierced his eardrums, and Nathan cringed. Hopelessness was a freezing hand on the back of his neck.

Mom!

He threw back the covers and tiptoed through the doorway. He stopped in the middle of the hall. The wood floor was cold under his bare feet, but that wasn’t what made him tremble. It was thinking about what had caused the scream that made his knees go wobbly. The urge to run back to his room and hide under the covers almost won.

But he needed to know what was happening.

He eased to the threshold of his parents’ room. The door was ajar. Dread slid through his belly like an icy eel as he gave the door a two-finger nudge.

His parents were huddled on the bed. Mom’s head rested against Dad’s chest. His mother sobbed. Something about bugs. Bugs on the bed. Bugs crawling on her. Thousands of them. Her shoulders shook. Between the thin straps of her nightgown, her backbone protruded through the skin like a snake’s skeleton.

“Shhh.” Dad stroked her hair and murmured things too softly for Nathan to make out the words. The words didn’t matter anyway.

Moonlight deepened the shadows across his mother’s face. One eye twitched. Without seeing, he knew the pupil was just a tiny pinprick, nearly lost in eyes the color of the ocean in winter. Her freckled skin had gone sallow and slack.

Dad hadn’t slept much either. His face was haggard; shadows under his eyes made him look like one of the zombies in
Night of the Living Dead,
the movie Nathan and his friend Eddy sneaked in to see last Saturday when Dad took Mom to another doctor, some big-time psychiatrist who wanted to put Mom in an asylum.

Nathan wished he’d gone with them. He’d have told the doctor he was wrong. His mother wasn’t crazy. She just couldn’t sleep.

Ever.

He swiped a hand under an eye. Guilt pricked at his conscience. He shouldn’t’ve gone. He should’ve said no to Eddy. Instead he’d disobeyed his dad. But he’d just wanted to escape his life for a while.

But the problem was, the movie hadn’t been much of an escape.

Feeling like an intruder, he retreated. He backed slowly down the hall to the darkness of his room and covered his ears, but it wasn’t enough to block out his mother’s cries. Dropping to his knees at the side of his bed, he fished in the nightstand for his rosary. He began the litany, pushing the beads through his fingers as the words tumbled from his mouth.

He focused harder. Surely if he prayed hard enough, God would save his mom. He squeezed his hands together until the cross bit into the flesh. He repeated the prayer, over and over, hoping the words would drown out Mom’s despair.

But her sobs still crept into the bedroom.

The floor behind him creaked. He glanced over his shoulder. A huge, familiar shape filled the doorway. His uncle lowered his bulk to his knees beside him. Their shoulders pressed together, and Nathan took comfort from the strength that flowed from his uncle’s body.

“What are ye doing?” Uncle Aaron’s accent, once strange, was now strangely soothing.

“Praying for her.” Nathan reached into the nightstand and produced another rosary. His breath caught in his throat, and he had to swallow before the words would come out. “I know you don’t go to our church, but would you say it with me?”

“Aye. You just tell me what to say.” The beads looked tiny, like shelled peas, passing through his uncle’s thick, sausage-like fingers. Nathan looked up into piercing blue eyes. Trust and relief bubbled up inside his chest. He knew Uncle Aaron didn’t go to the Catholic church. But it didn’t matter. His uncle would always be there for him.

As Uncle Aaron always said, blood was thicker.

Nathan inhaled the scents of the forest, only mildly tainted by the smell of gasoline. The ATV beneath him bounced as it ran over some rocks on the moonlit game trail. The vehicle was noisy, but Nathan had much ground to cover this night.