Secrets in Four Corners Page 14
If she made it out of here she would ensure her son knew his father. She couldn’t change the past but she could make it right from here on out.
That scraping sound grated against her eardrums again.
Hope bloomed in her chest.
Had Patrick brought help?
She eased carefully away from Peter and scrambled toward where the opening had collapsed.
Putting her head against the pile of rubble, she listened intently.
Voices. More scraping.
Yes! He had brought help.
Her first thought was to wake Peter and tell him but she should let him sleep. As long as he was asleep he wouldn’t be suffering from pain.
She wanted to shout Patrick’s name but that would awaken Peter.
So she waited. Waited and listened.
The rocks piled between her and freedom suddenly shifted, started to fall this way and that.
She clambered out of the way.
A ray of sunlight pierced the darkness. She held her hand in front of her face and blinked to adjust to the new brightness.
“Bree!”
Patrick.
“Yes! We’re here!”
Her heart thumped harder and harder. They were going to be okay. And Patrick was alive.
She repeated a silent mantra thanking God for protecting them.
When enough of the rubble was out of the way so that she could see Patrick’s face among the others working to free her, she wept.
She scrambled over to where Peter lay and gently roused him.
He moaned and agony speared her heart.
“Baby, they’re here to help us.”
Peter’s eyes fluttered open. “My daddy?”
Bree’s lips trembled into a smile. “Yes, your daddy and his friends are here to take us out of this place.”
Peter licked his lips. “My leg hurts.”
“I know, sweetie. We’ll make it all better soon.”
Everything started to happen at once then. A paramedic came through the opening first.
“What’ve we got, Detective?”
“I’m okay,” she insisted, despite the way the paramedic was looking at her head with his heavy-duty light. “But my son’s left leg appears to be broken. The calf area.”
The paramedic moved next to Peter. “Hey, little man, let me have a look at you.”
Suddenly Patrick was next to her. He hugged her so tight she couldn’t breathe. Bree cried against his strong shoulder.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“Mommy!”
Bree pulled away from Patrick and went to her son. The paramedic gave him something for the pain before attempting to move him.
The portable gurney came in next and slowly but surely Peter was transferred onto it. Once the gurney was through the opening, Patrick helped Bree climb out.
Patrick looked at her in the light. “You’re hurt.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She looked around. “What about the shooter?”
“It was your ex,” Patrick explained, pulling her against his chest. “But I took care of him. They’ve taken him away already. He was in need of a few stitches.”
Bree tried to smile. It hurt. She was glad Jack the Bully had finally gotten his due. A part of her couldn’t believe he’d gone so far as to try and kill her and Peter, but the cop in her wasn’t really surprised. Violent men like him often escalated. “I should have seen this coming.” She shook her head. Puffed out the frustration that tried to build. The cold, hard fact that the bastard could have killed her baby suddenly shook her hard. And she hadn’t even seen it coming.
“Don’t go there, Bree,” Patrick warned. “You couldn’t have known he was capable of this.” His arm went around her waist. “Now come on. You need medical attention.”
Before she could assure him that she was okay, he’d shouted for a paramedic.
The next thing she knew she was in an ambulance with Peter. He lay still on the gurney but his breathing was slow and steady. The drugs had kicked in.
“I’ll be waiting at the hospital,” Patrick promised before the paramedic closed the door.
Bree held on to that promise the entire trip. The paramedic cleaned up her head wound. Nothing a little tape couldn’t take care of. She probably had a ton of bruises. But she would live. She and her son were safe.
Patrick was safe.
That was all she could ask for.
Chapter Twelve
Patrick paced the corridor outside the treatment room. An orthopedist had been called in to properly set and immobilize Peter’s leg.
Patrick closed his eyes and thanked God once more. Bree was a little banged up but it was nothing serious. And Peter would be fine.
Jack Raintree was in jail where he belonged.
Patrick’s mother was in the lobby. As were Bree’s sister and niece, Callie MacBride, Tom Ryan and Steve Cyrus.
Ryan had let Patrick know that Watts had been released. They had nothing to hold him beyond the drunk and disorderly Kenner City PD had charged him with.
Watts wasn’t confessing and the hearsay his drunken friend had passed along wasn’t enough. But, Ryan had assured him, Watts was on their watch list.
The door to the treatment room opened and Patrick whirled in that direction.
“He’s ready to go home,” Doctor Ellis announced.
“Thanks, Doc.”
As soon as the doctor had cleared the doorway, Patrick strode into the room.
Bree and a nurse were helping Peter into a wheelchair.
“I’ll pull my vehicle into the pickup area,” Patrick offered since there didn’t appear to be anything else he could do.
“That would be nice.” Bree looked totally spent.
“I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
Patrick hustled out to the parking lot where he’d left his SUV. He rushed around to the pickup point outside the lobby doors. By the time he was back inside Peter was being wheeled into the lobby by the nurse. Bree walked alongside him.
Damn, she looked ready to drop.
Patrick’s mother and Bree’s family were treating Peter as if he were a prince. Hugs were exchanged between the women. Ryan, MacBride and Cyrus were letting Bree know how happy they were that she and Peter were all right.
Patrick felt a little like an outsider, but he pushed it away. He wasn’t allowing his need to be front and center override what his heart was telling him.
Callie hugged Bree. As did Cyrus. Ryan clapped her on the back.
“Let’s get this young man headed home,” the nurse suggested.
It was hospital policy that all patients left via wheelchair and accompanied by a nurse.
“I’ll stay with you tonight,” Tabitha offered to Bree.
“You and Layla go home,” Bree insisted. “We’ll be fine. We’ll need you enough the next few weeks as it is.”
Tabitha resisted a bit, but then gave in. Goodbyes were exchanged as the entourage following the wheelchair moved toward the door.
Before going through the automatic doors, Patrick glanced back at those who’d come to see that Peter and Bree were safe.
Callie MacBride lingered behind. She had her cell phone in hand. She stared at the screen a moment, then stepped farther away from the others before taking the call.
Judging by the look on her face the caller had relayed some earth-shattering news. She listened for a few moments, made a brief comment and shut her phone. Hard. She shoved it back into her purse.
Between Callie and Parrish, they had the monopoly on strange behavior.
Patrick helped his son into his SUV and drove him and Bree home. The ride was silent. Everyone was too tired to talk.
When they parked in Bree’s drive, she opened the passenger-side door. “I’ll get the front door.”
Patrick carried Peter to the house. He couldn’t begin to describe the amazing feeling of holding his son in his arms.
When Peter had been deposited into his bed and tucked in for th
e night, Patrick followed Bree to the kitchen. He felt a little like an obedient dog waiting for his next order. There was so much he wanted to say but he didn’t know where to begin.
He was just so damned thankful that Bree and Peter were going to be fine.
But he couldn’t keep standing here. He had to say something.
“So, how are we going to handle this?” He knew she was exhausted, but he needed some kind of reassurance.
Whatever it took, he would make their relationship work. Even if it turned out to only be one based on friendship.
Bree leaned against the counter. “I talked to Peter a lot while we were trapped. He wants to get to know you and spend time with you.” She managed a halfhearted laugh. “Watch out or he’ll be taking you to school for show and tell.”
Patrick reached up and pushed her dark hair away from her taped wound. “And you and me, what do we do about that?”
“We take it one day at a time.”
Patrick could handle that. “Sounds reasonable.”
“But we’ll still be a family.” She exhaled a weary breath. “We’ll do things together, share holidays. Just like any normal family.”
“With you working in homicide and me the sheriff of Kenner County, I’m not sure we’ll ever be normal.”
Bree smiled dimly. “Maybe not, but we’ll figure it out as we go.”
“You should go to bed.”
Bree looked in the direction of the hall leading to the bedrooms. “I don’t know. I’m so exhausted. I’m afraid once I fall asleep I won’t hear him if he needs me.”
“I’ll stay.” Patrick took her by the elbow and started guiding her toward the hall. Her room had to be one of the two on either side of Peter’s. “If he needs anything I’ll take care of it.”
“Tabitha or Layla could come over.”
“Nope. I’m staying. No arguments.”
Bree pointed to the bedroom just beyond Peter’s. “That’s mine.”
Patrick ushered her through the door and onto the bed. He tugged off her shoes and spread a blanket over her. “I’ll crash on the couch. If you need anything, just give a holler.”
When he would have turned away, Bree said, “Patrick?”
He looked back at her. His heart squeezed at how vulnerable she looked. And at the same time she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her long dark hair was loose from its braid. He yearned to touch it…to touch her.
She patted the bed beside her. “Lay with me.”
When he hesitated, she said, “Please. I just want you near me.”
Lying next to her without touching her would be one of the hardest things he’d ever done, but he wouldn’t deny her that comfort for anything in the world.
He settled on the bed next to her. Took her hand in his.
Just lying there staring at her profile and holding her hand was suddenly enough.
She turned to him. “I’ve always loved you, Patrick. Somehow it got all tangled up in other things, but it never went away. I’m sorry…I was wrong.” She closed her eyes. “So wrong.”
“Shh.” He touched her lips. “We’ve both made mistakes. Grown up a lot. We start from here.” He smiled. “And it’s a good thing you still love me. ’Cause I never stopped loving you.”
She reached up, touched his face. Her cool fingertips traced his jaw. “You’re right. We are older. We’ll take it slow. Do it right this time.”
“We’ll do it right,” he agreed. He kissed her nose. “Sleep. You need the rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Bree closed her eyes and he watched her drift into slumber.
She didn’t ever have to worry again. He would always be here for her…and for his son.
Epilogue
Two weeks later…
Bree walked through the gift shop. Today was Peter’s first day back at school since his injury. She wanted to get him a special gift to celebrate how brave he’d been through this entire ordeal.
She couldn’t get over how quickly he and Patrick had bonded. It was like they’d always been together.
It made her heart glad.
Her cell phone vibrated. She glanced at the screen. Her lips stretched into a smile. Speak of the devil.
She opened the phone. “What’s up, Sheriff?”
“I was thinking you might be available for lunch.”
“Definitely. In fact I took the afternoon off.”
“What a coincidence. So did I.”
Desire swam through her veins. She and Patrick had progressed to long kissing sessions. Making out, as he called it. She was ready for the next step.
“I think I might have just enough time to have a leisurely lunch before it’s time to pick up Peter.”
“Meet me at my place in half an hour.”
“Are you cooking?” Anticipation lit inside her.
“Definitely.”
“Half an hour,” she promised.
Bree tucked her phone away and moved a little more quickly through the shop. The prospect of finally making love with Patrick again after all these years had her on fire.
She passed a long row of jewelry made by Ute craftsmen. One of the necklaces snagged her attention. She backed up and took a second look.
Her heart bumped against her sternum.
Almost in slow motion, she reached out and touched the chain. Picked it up and examined it more closely. She’d seen it before. It was so familiar.
Everything inside her stilled.
“Oh, my God.” The pattern of the silver chain was exactly the same.
A perfect match to the ligature pattern on Julie Grainger’s throat.
This, or a chain like this, was the murder weapon.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-2678-8
SECRETS IN FOUR CORNERS
Copyright © 2009 by Harlequin Books S.A.
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