Bed of Lies Page 5

  “Nevah mind the last day,” the woman grumbled. “I’d say the last minute since I’m about ready to close.”

  “Sorry.” Brenna counted out money she could scarce afford while Myrtle opened a file drawer and pulled out the yellow registration paper.

  “Run into Ace yet?”

  Brenna glanced up just as Myrtle leaned her elbows on the counter, her rheumy eyes lighting up at the chance to hear some juicy gossip.

  “Just did.” Brenna handed Myrtle a wad of bills and waited to be called a liar. It wouldn’t come as a surprise if half the town knew she and Ace had been at the cabin last night.

  Myrtle ignored the money in Brenna’s hand. “And?”

  Myrtle sniffed out news faster than a dog tracking a T-bone steak half a mile away. “We said hello, talked a few minutes and said goodbye.”

  “Really?” The woman’s white brows arched. “I’m surprised the two of you are speakin’ at all. After all that’s happened.”

  Brenna’s lack of response didn’t stop Myrtle.

  “Did he ask about your weddin’? Or should I say the weddin’ that didn’t happen?”

  “No,” Brenna lied and hoped that heat in her cheeks didn’t turn her face red. “Why should he?”

  “He was at the church and disappeared right after you ran out. Folks hereabouts are flappin’ their tongues.”

  Wow. Big surprise. Brenna cursed herself for biting. “About what?”

  Myrtle’s eyes narrowed, a habit she had. Brenna always wondered if it helped her see through a person’s lies. “Sayin’ that mebee Ace Bear came back to town to stop that weddin’. Ay-yuh,” she added, when Brenna showed no reaction. “Sayin’ mebee he’s got plans for you.”

  Brenna shoved trembling hands into her pockets. No sense stocking Myrtle’s arsenal by letting on how nervous she was. “Ace didn’t do anything to stop that wedding. Someone shot Anson. Remember?”

  One piece of gossip was as good as another to Myrtle.

  “Myrtle stamped the registration and laid it on the counter. “Mebee Ace hired someone.”

  “That’s crazy. Nathan Cutler confessed.”

  “Mebee Ace hired him. Paid him to keep quiet.”

  Brenna looked up in surprise, and Myrtle cackled with glee. “Ay-yuh. Strangah things have happened.”

  “That’s a little far-fetched,” Brenna choked out.

  “Whatevah his reasons for returnin’ to Spruce Harbor, it’s gonna cause a stir.”

  Ain’t that the truth? “I’ve got to run. See you later.” Brenna grabbed the registration and sprinted out the door.

  She slid behind the wheel of the truck and headed home. To get rid of her preoccupation with Ace, she concentrated on Julienne. Tomorrow, she’d call Bangor and talk to Social Services. Find out if any family members had been located.

  Brenna stood in the kitchen, staring into the refrigerator. Her stomach growled, reminding her that it was time to eat. As usual, the chore of making supper fell on her shoulders.

  A loud thump upstairs jumpstarted her heart. A quick glance at her watch told her it couldn’t be Colin. He’d still be on the Desperado, baiting the lobster traps.

  Her mother should be at Ethel Pinkham’s for the ladies’ weekly bridge game. Although, in Brenna’s opinion, it was more like an excuse to gossip and drink sherry.

  Another thud. Louder this time. A cold sweat prickled the back of her neck. She waffled. Jump in her truck and leave? Or stay and confront the intruder? Common sense screamed to run like hell. Pride demanded she stay. Who had the nerve to break into her home? Anyone familiar with the McKenzie family knew they had nothing worth stealing. Unless it was a drug addict searching for something to sell for a fix. There’d been several break-ins in the area in the past week.

  Brenna tiptoed across the floor. Over two hundred years old, the farm had more than a few squeaks in the old oak floor boards. She avoided those areas.

  Holding her breath, she opened the broom closet and grabbed the loaded single-shot shotgun that her father had always kept there. For the first time, she was glad for her mother’s reluctance to change anything in the house since her husband had died.

  She leaned in further, her hand searching for the box of twelve gauge shells on the lower shelf. She grabbed a handful and stuffed them in the pocket of her jacket.

  Had the prowler heard her enter the house? Stupid question. She’d been singing “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain” at the top of her lungs. Brenna knew it was foolish to climb those stairs.

  This wouldn’t be the first time she’d done something irrational. Halfway to the top landing, she prayed that it wouldn’t be the last time.

  The noise had come from directly over the kitchen—her room. She carried the shotgun in a ready to shoot position and kept climbing.

  Adrenalin-laced confidence pumped through her—until she stepped in one of the forbidden zones. The stair squeaked, the noise loud in her ears. She moved faster, reached the top and leaned against the wall, listening. The door was cracked about six inches. A shadow moved across the opening. She flinched at another loud thud.

  Anger brought a rush of courage. How dare someone ransack her room? Caution forgotten, Brenna strode down the hall and slammed the butt of the shotgun against the door. It swung open and she stepped inside.

  A garbled chuckle came from behind. She spun around. Pain exploded in her head. Brilliant white stars danced in front of her eyes and the sound of the ocean’s surf roared in her ears. She slid to floor.

  Chapter Six

  Ace turned up the radio and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to a catchy Toby Keith tune. He had no reason to drive by Brenna’s farm. Yet, since he’d arrived in town he’d done so more often than he cared to count. At this time of day, the driveway was usually empty.

  He came to full alert when he saw Brenna’s old blue truck in front of the barn and steered the SUV into the circular dirt drive. Now was as good of a time as any to get some honest answers about Colin. She wouldn’t be any more willing to answer his questions tomorrow or the next day.

  Since leaving her at the cemetery, he’d pulled himself together. He’d either control his emotions or die trying. Perhaps it was time to come clean about why he’d really returned. In this small town, it was only a matter of time before the news leaked out that he worked for the DEA. Better for Brenna to hear it from him than through the grapevine.

  A black and white border collie charged toward him as he stepped out of the SUV. “Hey, boy.” Ace bent to scratch the dog’s ears. “Not much of a watchdog.”

  The dog whined and beat it to the side door of the house. When Ace didn’t immediately follow, he streaked back and ran in circles, before heading back to the door. Unease tickled the back of Ace’s neck. “What is it, boy?”

  He walked quickly to the house, his apprehension increasing when he found the door ajar. He pushed it farther open and hollered, “Hello?” No one answered.

  The dog pushed by Ace’s legs and bolted inside, toenails clicking as he ran across the black and white squares of the tiled kitchen floor.

  “Hey,” Ace yelled. “Get back here. I’ve got enough problems with your owner. She’ll skin me alive.” He followed on the dog’s heels, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. He stilled his breathing and listened. The only sound from above was the dog’s pitiful whining. He took the stairs two at a time. Without conscious thought, he jogged to Brenna’s room.

  God, he’d only been in this house once, and he remembered which room she slept in like it was yesterday. They’d made beautiful memories that night. He’d tried to forget, but couldn’t erase it from his memory bank.

  Brenna’s special scent drifted toward him. Not perfume, but a clean, sweet smell that belonged only to her. He entered the room and the sight of Brenna on the floor knocked the wind out of him. The collie nosed her hair. Brenna lay on her side, her body partially under the bed. The skin of her face matched the white sheet resting on her cheek.

  “Jes
us.” He breathed the word as more of a prayer than a curse and knelt at her side. He searched for a pulse in her neck and sighed in relief that the beat was strong. “Brenna? Can you hear me? Open your eyes.”

  What had happened? Had she fallen and hit her head? He did a quick scan. Bureau drawers were upside down on the floor, their contents strewn around the room.

  The collie barked, a sharp, ear-piercing signal of distress. Brenna’s eyelids fluttered. “That’s it,” he encouraged. “Wake up. Talk to me.”

  She blinked a few times, dazed and confused. “Ace?” Without warning, she jerked away and struggled to her knees, twisting to escape his hands.

  “What’s wrong? Did you fall? Pass out?”

  “Someone hit me.”

  He was slow on the uptake. The terror on her face told him she considered him a suspect. Acid burned the back of his throat. He rose and moved to lean against the nearest wall. “You think I hit you?”

  Confusion clouded her eyes.

  “Are you crazy?” he spit out. “I drove by. I saw your truck, so I decided to stop. I just got here.” He motioned to the dog. “He was barking and running in circles. He burst into the house and ran up here. I followed him.”

  “It’s a girl,” she said dully.

  “What?”

  “The dog. Her name’s Sheba.”

  Ace took three steps and offered his hand to help her up. “Whatever. I’m not the enemy, Brenna. Life would go a lot smoother if you believed that.”

  She ignored his outstretched hand and reached up to grab a handful of quilt. A pang of pity poked Ace as he noticed the dark circles under her eyes. He forced himself to shake it off. “What happened here? Who ransacked the room?”

  Before Brenna could respond, Sheba ran to the window and let out a series of high-pitched yips. Ace walked to the slightly opened window. An emergency fire escape ladder was hooked over the sill and hung down the outside wall of the house. “Do you leave the ladder hanging here all the time?”

  “No. We keep them under the bed in case of fire. Each bedroom has one.”

  “Good idea.” Well, normally, it would be. Now it had helped a prowler escape. Ace checked the room with more attention to detail than before. The bureau drawers had been haphazardly emptied, leaving clothes spread around the floor. What would be worth stealing in someone’s lingerie drawer? His gut screamed it was a decoy. Perhaps someone trying to scare Brenna. “Any idea what someone would be looking for?”

  “There’s nothing here worth stealing.”

  Ace went into the hall and made his way to the bathroom to soak a washcloth in cold water, wringing out the excess water.

  Brenna sat on the end of the bed when he returned. “Did you see a car leaving when you pulled in the driveway?”

  “Nope. Didn’t meet one on the road either. How long do you think you were unconscious?”

  Brenna looked at her watch. “Not long. Maybe whoever broke in is on foot.”

  “Or horseback.” The old mattress sagged as he sat beside her and applied the cold cloth to the back of her head. “Or a four-wheeler. Either could be easily hidden in the woods.”

  Brenna sighed. “That’s true.”

  “We need to talk, Brenna.” Ace ignored the wariness that darkened her blue eyes. “Because of what’s just happened, I think it’d better be now, rather than later.”

  She shoved his hand away and held the washcloth herself. “I’ve told you, I don’t know anything about anyone selling drugs, or using drugs, either. And what’s with you?” Her chin jutted out. “You sound like a cop.”

  “Where’s Colin?” Ace asked to postpone the inevitable of telling her he was a government agent.

  “Out on the Desperado.”

  “Is he dealing drugs? Is that why you agreed to marry Anson? I don’t believe you’d marry a man you barely know and seem to dislike because of a threat of foreclosure on the farm. The woman I once knew would live in a tent before being bullied like that.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and rested her head on the brass knob on the footboard. She opened her eyes, and Ace drew a sharp breath. He got lost somewhere between the vulnerability and the plea for understanding in her eyes. He’d thought the emotion one-sided until her lips parted, and she raised a shaky hand toward his face. As if receiving orders from somewhere other than his brain, his gaze dropped to her mouth. Seconds ticked by.

  “Ace,” she breathed his name. Just that and nothing more. A multitude of emotions spun a tangled web in the air. Lust, love, passion and hope.

  He lifted an unsteady hand to caress her cheek when a door slammed downstairs, shattering the spell.

  Brenna’s hand fell to her side. “It’s Colin.

  “Brenna? You here? Whose SUV’s outside?”

  Neither moved as footsteps sounded on the stairs.

  Colin burst into the room and tripped over Sheba. “Damn it, Brenna, I—”

  Ace studied the male version of Brenna. Colin’s face turned ruddy, his blue eyes narrowed in anger as he took in Ace sitting next to his sister on the bed.

  “What the fu—”

  “Enough, Colin,” Brenna snapped.

  Colin jabbed a finger at Ace. “What’s he doing here?”

  “Helping me. Someone broke in and clubbed me over the head.”

  Concern replaced anger on Colin’s face, and he rushed to his sister’s side. “Are you okay? Who was it?”

  “I don’t have a clue. And other than having the mother of a headache, I’m fine.”

  “Perhaps they had a key,” Ace spoke for the first time. “The door wasn’t damaged. So it hadn’t been forced open.” He looked Colin square in the eye. “Perhaps you have some ideas?”

  Brenna turned to Ace, eyes wide with surprise. “What?”

  “That’s crazy.” Colin bristled. “No one has a key to our house.”

  The kid shifted from foot to foot like he was standing on hot bricks. Why so nervous? And defensive? “How’d they get in if it was locked?” Ace prodded.

  “Could’ve picked the lock,” Colin offered.

  “Possible,” Ace conceded, not for a moment believing it. He rose from the bed and moved to lean against the wall near the door. “Brenna, was the door locked when you got home?

  She nodded. “We leave a key under the doormat. Probably half the town knows that.”

  Colin glanced around the room. “Is anything missing?”

  “I haven’t had time to look. I can’t think of anything worth stealing. I have no jewelry or money up here.”

  “Looks to me like the thief was searching for something,” Ace said. Or making it look like a robbery attempt. “Colin, check the other bedrooms.”

  Colin’s thin frame stiffened. Ace expected him to refuse. The kid had been only twelve when the shit hit the fan. Any animosity Colin felt toward him now more than likely came from listening to town gossip.

  Colin’s gaze slid to Brenna. When she nodded, he tightened his lips and left the room.

  “When are you and your brother going to come clean with me? It’s obvious you’re both hiding something.”

  “I could ask you the same question. Who do you work for? You’re not investigating drug rings on your own. Maybe when you tell me the truth, I’ll return the favor.”

  Colin walked back into the room. “Doesn’t look like anything’s been touched.”

  Ace pushed away from the wall. “It’s possible they want something Brenna has or think she has. You want to call the cops or should I?” Ace tossed the question at Brenna.

  She shrugged. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Why call the cops?” Colin choked out the words. “Nothing’s missing.”

  Ace’s suspicions grew. He itched to put Colin through the third degree. Brenna’s angry glare warned him off.

  He’d stopped to tell her the truth. Now obviously wasn’t the time for true confessions. He checked his watch. “I’m already late for an appointment.” Not really a lie. He’d planned to talk to as m
any people in town as he possibly could.

  He took two steps and paused in front of Colin. “Talk your sister into seeing a doctor. She might have a concussion.” He stepped over the dog, then jogged down the stairs and out of the house.

  Brenna slid off the bed and bent to pick up one of the bureau drawers. “How about helping me clean up this mess?”

  “So the word around town is true?”

  She winced at the intense pain in her head. “I don’t know. What’s the latest gossip?”

  “That you and Ace still have the hots for each other. After all these years.”

  Brenna’s face flamed. “Who’s spreading that crap? No,” she said, holding up her hand. “Don’t tell me. It’s Don Mercer, isn’t it? He’s full of it. Anybody who’d believe him is as crazy as he is.” She shoved a drawer back in the bureau.

  “Is Ace staying at Dad’s cabin?”

  “Maybe.” She picked up a second drawer, dropped it on the bed. “I told him he could. I’m not sure he took me up on my offer.”

  Brenna stopped folding a pair of panties and glared at her brother. Stay away from Ace, Colin, or so help me God…”

  “Don’t you care what people say?”

  “No. Don’t you? Care about what the town says about you?” she added at his blank look.

  The blush on her brother’s face told its own story. “Admit it, Colin. I know you do cocaine. Anson threatened to turn you in. That, coupled with the threat to foreclose on the farm, is why I decided to marry him.”

  Colin’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “What’ll happen now? Are you two still gonna get married?”

  “No. No, we’re not,” she added with more conviction. Saying the words aloud gave her a strong feeling of relief, as well as calmed her nerves. Come what may, she wouldn’t be marrying Anson Carter. She’d already made the decision. Experiencing the electrical currents that flew in the air when Ace was around convinced her she’d made the right decision.

  “I’m in trouble, Brenna,” Colin said, his eyes pleading for her help. “If Anson goes to the cops, I’ll go to prison.”