Love Inspired Suspense June 2015 #1 (53 page)

THIRTEEN

“C
ut!” Troy jumped from his director's chair, red in the face. “McCrae! I won't be able to use any of this footage. It's boring! For nearly two weeks you've done nothing but work on this house, barely speaking to the camera. You only
play
a carpenter on TV. The viewers want to see your face, not your back. Put that cloth down and get back in front of the camera!”

Colm stood from giving the staircase railing a last swipe of polish. He could practically see his reflection in its shine. He stuffed the rag in his back jeans pocket and picked up his bucket of tools. He gave a quick look through the entry to the living room. The room stood empty of anyone so he looked above to Gretchen's closed bedroom door. He wanted to see her face when she saw the banister complete and finished for the first time. He wished his da could see it, as well. He wished his da could see everything his hands had touched these past two weeks.

I found who I am, Da, and Gretchen was right. I'm a carpenter just like you.

The house was nearing completion except for the servants' quarters. Those Gretchen could work on slowly as income from the guests replenished her coffers, even though Colm had a deep desire to stay on and continue what he'd started. The thought of staying on long after that entered his mind.

It flitted out just as fast.

Gretchen would never have it. She would never have him. These past two weeks had proven that.

He and his crew had worked day and night to finish her home. She herself had done the same, helping Ethan with painting as much as she could. Colm had worried about her asthma around the fumes, but she took the necessary precautions and showed no signs of labored breathing. If she had wheezed even once, he would have stepped in.

And done what? The woman was so independent. To even suggest she needed help offended her. And that was the reason any chance he had of sticking around after the restoration was bleak.

“Have you seen Gretchen?” he asked Troy as though he'd just noticed the man. “How about you, Nate?”

Nate brought his camera down from his shoulder. “She and Ethan are finishing up the side porch. Do you want me to go grab her?”

“Nay, I'll head out there and see how they're faring. I'm pretty much done in here. I'd say we do our walkthrough tonight. Then let's pack up and be on our way.”

“You got it,” Nate said.

“I say when we pack up,” Troy interrupted. “I have some unfinished business here, and you have some footage to retake. You're not going anywhere until you get it right.”

“I've given you all I got. The Sunday ferry arrives tomorrow, and I plan to be on it.”

“Then you better tell the captain to sail east for Dublin. Maybe your alley is still available.”

Colm heard Troy's threats, but now he knew they were empty. For two years the man threw them out like punches. One hit after another reminded Colm of his worthless past, the message that Colm would be nothing without the show.

The usual fear didn't strike. Funny, that. “Not a problem, Troy. Consider this my last show. I'm actually looking forward to seeing my ma. It's been a long time.” And if she sent him away again, he would deal with it differently this time. He wouldn't yell and punch the wall in frustration. No, this time he would show her the new man he'd become. He would share the love of God that was in him until she finally believed it for herself. Whatever it took, he wouldn't give up this time.

Colm felt the first smile he'd had on his face in two weeks.

“There! That's the look I pay you for. That's what I want to see on film. What my viewers tune in for. I'm glad to see it's still there. Now let's get moving before daylight disappears.”

“Nay. I didn't finish this house for the show or for you,” Colm said as he headed to the kitchen toward the side porch where Gretchen was. He wanted to share his plans with her. As much as she'd pushed him away since they kissed, he couldn't imagine sharing it with anyone else. A vision of her beside him, lending him some of her inner strength when he went to his mother again, flashed in his mind. He pushed it aside as nothing but a fanciful whimsy. Gretchen had her own new life to live now.

One on her own.

Colm walked briskly through the updated kitchen with its shiny new stainless-steel appliances waiting for Gretchen's culinary expertise. He pushed open the screened door and stepped out onto the side porch and paused. The view of the ocean far and wide brought an immediate sense of peace. It washed over him as the sunset's fiery sky took his breath away. Strokes of purples and reds brushed across the horizon.

Lord, I am so humbled by the gifts You give me and the plans You have for me. May I always stand in awe of them. Your hand in my life is just as artful and intentional as this sky in front of me.

Colm closed his eyes for a moment and saw another of God's works of art. Hair like spun gold, eyes blue like that far and wide ocean. And as distant from him as Ireland herself.

Lord, take care of her. Do whatever it takes to show her she's not meant to face life alone.

Colm thought of earlier in the week when he'd found Gretchen in the dining room attempting to hang a curtain. Her five feet wouldn't allow her to reach a foot from the window top. He'd hurried in and brought the curtain to its place with ease. It was a simple maneuver meant to help her, but when she'd turned to face him, he'd seen her no-vacancy sign in place.

Her desire to be a steadfast island would eventually isolate her beyond reach, leaving her vacant permanently. But if he would never give up on his ma, how could he give up on Gretchen?

He couldn't and wouldn't. End of story.

Colm trekked across the porch and stepped down to the grass. He'd expected to see her out here painting, but the rear yard was empty. He walked a little farther toward the barn. Voices from inside stopped him. The doors were shut, but a side window stood open. Colm recognized Ethan saying, “We're almost done, Gretchen.”

Colm smiled at finding her and headed for the doors.

“This could be our last night,” Ethan said. “I can't leave here with so much unresolved.”

Colm halted with his hand on the latch. He didn't like earwigging, but confusion at the direction of this conversation halted him.

“What are you saying?” Gretchen's voice spilled from the window. She sounded upset as she asked the same question Colm wondered.

“I need you,” Ethan responded.

Colm heard silence, but Ethan's words blared in his head.

He retracted his hand from the handle but halted when he saw his clenched fist.

Just when I thought my old self was gone.

Colm stepped back, defeated. A twig beneath his foot snapped like a firecracker. He didn't wait to see if they heard but legged it for his trailer.

* * *

“What do you need from me?” Gretchen asked after she peered out the window. She'd heard something snap and thought someone was approaching the barn, but the yard was clear all the way to the house.

“You know I've narrowed my search to the five crew members who were all on location for the other four thefts. Troy, Sly, Nate, Wendy...and Colm.”

Gretchen closed her eyes and pressed her lips. She felt her shoulders sag like deflated sails. “You haven't cleared Colm? I really hoped you'd find something to turn you in a different direction.”

Ethan shook his head. “He's still my number one suspect. I'm sorry, but his past is—”

“His past,” she cut in. “If we are defined by our pasts, then few of us have hope for anything better. Our pasts become our chains and are worse than any jailer or bully or puppet master we could ever have to face, because escape is never possible.”

Ethan sighed but said, “I have a job to do, Gretchen—bring the thief in. That's it. It's not up to me to play counselor. Not even to judge.”

“How about being a friend?” she asked.

Ethan scoffed, “In my line of business, there are no friends.”

She tilted her head and stared at the FBI man. He just wanted to get the arrest any way he could. “You know, you and Colm are not so different. You both live life playing someone you're not.”

“Now see, I would've said you and I are more alike. We both understand we're stronger on our own.”

Gretchen stood silenced. A few heartbeats pumped loudly in her head. “Right,” she whispered. She'd said those words a hundred times to anyone who would listen, and even to those who wouldn't. But she had to wonder when “on her own” began to feel more like being totally alone.

The answer was obvious: when Colm came to shore.

The past two weeks had been torture. She'd done everything she could to avoid being in his presence. Their kiss had been beautiful and freeing, but she couldn't hope it would stay that way.

Especially if he was the thief fencing art. Even if he did it for his mother, to stay with him meant Gretchen would be dancing for another puppet master, and that could never happen again.

“Fine,” she said, resolved. “What do you need me to do?”

“Write five notes, each one the same. They'll say, ‘Meet me tonight at the rock. I want to give you what you want.' Then you'll drop them in their tool buckets and wait to see who bites.”

“What if no one does?”

Ethan chuckled. “The thief is desperate. He or she will have a hard time waiting until tonight.”

“So, I just go and meet whoever shows up?”

“Don't worry, I'll be in the trees, listening. You'll wear a wire. If anything happens, I'll step out and put an end to it.” Ethan moved up in front of her. “It's almost over, Gretchen. Soon you'll have your big house and new business. You'll be calling the shots. You'll be in control with no one to tell you what to do ever again.”

She nodded absently as he reached for her hand and rubbed his thumb over the back of her palm.

“See? I told you. You're just like me.” Ethan smiled reassuringly. “On our own to the very end.”

FOURTEEN

“H
anging in there?” Ethan's voice projected from the minuscule earplug. Spy equipment, Gretchen thought from her spot by the rock with the ocean at her back. Just a few weeks ago, she'd half joked about the show installing tiny cameras to catch her in accidents to spike their ratings.

If only this had been about ratings.

“Let's just get this over with,” she whispered down to the tiny microphone attached under the top buttons of her pink polo shirt. “It's after ten. When do you think someone—”

A branch to her left snapped and cut off her words.

“You're on, Gretchen,” Ethan whispered. “Remember, if you need me, use the code word.”

Code word. She pulled it from her mind and nearly said it aloud before the scene unfolded around her. A shadow appeared at the tree line, and the word nearly spilled from her lips again.

Cut
.

Fast. Simple. Powerful.

Cut
.

Stop. Finished. The end.

Except this scene was just beginning.

“It's about time you came to your senses and decided to give me what I want,” a low male voice said from the trees. The man had yet to step out to where she hoped the moon would give her the benefit of its natural light.

Except, whoever stood beyond the moon's reach knew how to stay in the shadows.

“I thought I was going to have to delay our departure tomorrow. You should know I don't like making delays...for anyone. I don't care how pretty she is.”

Gretchen cringed at the compliment that felt more like sandpaper across a wound. The good thing about the scene was that Wendy was now off the list. But who was it?

The figure was tall like Colm, but the voice didn't match up. But then Colm was a chameleon when it came to becoming someone else. If this was he, she would have failed miserably at thinking she'd finally figured him out. Not a carpenter, but a thief.

Gretchen cleared her throat so she could answer slowly and carefully, “Sorry to keep you waiting, but I wanted my house done. I'm sure you can understand. It was business, and business comes before—”

“Pleasure,” he said, cutting her off and stepping into the light. The moon illuminated Troy's face. “And now it's time for pleasure.”

Gretchen shrank back on reflex, but with the ledge behind her and the crashing waves below, moving farther away wasn't an option. The pure evil she felt coming from Troy was just as perilous. She looked to the trees at her left, but she didn't have even a second to move because Troy rushed at her at full speed.

“Oh, no, you don't. You're not going anywhere until I get what I came for.”

He reached for her arms and Gretchen yelled, “No, Troy!”

He pulled her to him. “Oh, yes. You've kept me waiting long enough. I've had to watch you lead McCrae around like a puppy on a leash for weeks. I want a little of that action, and I'm here to collect.”

Troy smashed hard lips down on hers and drew the breath from her lungs. With his hands pushing her upper arms into her rib cage, she couldn't expand her chest even a bit.

Gretchen struggled in his grasp and whimpered as loud as she could, hoping Ethan would hear and come running as he'd promised.

But Troy's assault continued into a minute and more. He backed her up against the rock, and she used all her strength to stay on her feet. Fear struck her lightning-quick. Never did she think she would be in this kind of danger. Where was Ethan?

Gretchen twisted her head back and forth to unseal her lips from his, and for a brief moment air found her mouth. “Cut!” she yelled. “Cut!”

Troy froze, but his grasp on her stayed strong. The next moment his chest rumbled with sick laughter. “Sorry, my dear, but there's room for only one director in this show.”

Just as his lips came to hers again, she yelled, “Painting. Don't you want the painting? Isn't that what you're here for?”

“Painting? What painting?” He hovered above her like one of his microphones during filming. She wished there was a microphone. Something was seriously wrong with the one she wore if Ethan hadn't come running yet.

“I came because your little note said you wanted to give me what I wanted. Now pay up.” Troy forced his lips on hers and stole what air she had left. Then his whole body tore away. One moment he crushed her, the next she stood free, the cool air flowing into her lungs.

Gasping for breath, Gretchen watched two men fight. She saw a flying fist make contact with Troy's face, forcing the director to fall back hard to the ground. She walked unsteadily to the rock and leaned against it, panting.

“What took you so long?” she asked as her breathing steadied. She closed her eyes in relief.

“I came as soon as I could, my love.”

Colm? Gretchen's eyes flew open.

But Billy's angry face bore into hers. He grabbed her upper arm and dragged her toward him as his other hand ripped the buttons off her polo shirt.

“Billy! What are you doing?”

“Taking precautions.”

One swipe and he had the tiny surveillance equipment in his hand, then on the ground beneath his feet. A few stomps and the cracking sound told her all lines had been cut.

“Not one word or I'll do to you what I did to him. Follow the path to the shore.”

“What are you doing?”

Billy shook her enough to lift her off the ground. “Will you ever learn who is in charge? I said be quiet.” With that he followed through on his threat.

* * *

Colm swept his hand down the railing of the staircase. The home was officially complete and Nate was ready to film the final scene. “She's not upstairs,” Colm told him.

“Well, I guess we're filming without her. The crew is exhausted and ready to pack up. Let's move.” Nate headed into the living room with his equipment. A roaring fire in the fireplace cast a warm glow on the room. Antique furniture with its flowery upholstery sat ready for Gretchen's guests. “I'll film from this direction with the furniture behind you. Too bad the wall over the fireplace is empty. It would make for a better backdrop.”

Colm thought of the painting hidden upstairs. He could quickly retrieve it for the take and put it back after.

But then the piece had already caused Gretchen so much trouble. What if someone else saw it on the telly? It could invite more danger to her shores than she already faced.

Colm moved to stand in front of the couches. “Shouldn't we wait for Troy? You know how he gets when I play director. I'm really not up for his ire tonight.”

“You? Not up for a fight? Come on. You live for a good brawl.” Nate brought his camera up on his shoulder and said, “And tonight, I'm playing director. Action.”

The camera's abrupt light blinded Colm, and Nate's reminder of his old self silenced him. He really would never escape his past.

Nate looked at Colm around the camera. “I said action. Let's go, I want to pack up and go home.”

“We're back for our final take of the beautiful bed-and-breakfast The Morning Glory. Come next week—”

“Irish, Colm,” Nate reminded yet again. “Take Two.”

Colm cleared his throat. “Welcome back. I mean, we're back—”

“Cut.” Nate brought the camera down with a huff. After a deep breath, he said, “All right, take five and get yourself together. I'll be in the kitchen.” He put down the camera and walked out of the room.

A half-empty bottle of water lay on top of his tools by the front door. Colm grabbed it and twisted off the cap. With the bottle to his lips, he dropped his gaze to a folded piece of paper that had been beside the bottle. He picked it up and shook it open.

Colm,

Meet me at the rock tonight. I want to give you what you want.

Gretchen

Colm read through the words twice. And then again to be sure. Was this message true blue? And even if it was, did Gretchen even know what he wanted? That forever wouldn't be long enough when it came to what he wanted with her?

And what about Ethan? Wasn't there something between them? Colm remembered what he had heard by the barn. Ethan had said he needed Gretchen, not the other way around. At least not up until the point Colm left for his trailer. Perhaps Ethan's declaration made Gretchen admit her true feelings, and she realized they were for Colm, not the painter.

Colm ran for the kitchen. “Nate, let's get this over with. I have someplace to be. Nate!”

The room stood empty. The back door was open to the side porch, but peering out the screen, Colm could see that, too, was vacant.

“Nate?” he called into the darkness, but no reply returned. Not a sound.

* * *

Water lapping the side of a boat roused Gretchen from her blacked-out state—only to deliver her into throbbing pain when she attempted to open her eyes.

A groan escaped her lips and she tried to reach for her head but found she couldn't move her hands. Her mind registered quickly:
I'm tied up and blindfolded.

The next second, pain exploded from her hip. Someone had kicked her.

“Say one word and I'll gag you, as well.” Billy's voice loomed over her. “You should know by now I'll do it.”

Gretchen sealed her lips, holding in her whimper of pain and the many questions flooding her mind.

Was Billy connected to the painting? Had he always known what Len had hanging on the wall? Was that why he wouldn't let her break up with him? Had he known Len planned to leave her the painting? If so, perhaps Billy planned on selling it once they were married. Only she broke off the engagement and cut his plans to shreds.

“Billy,” she whispered into the darkness.

“Shh,” he hissed from the other end of the boat. “I told you to be quiet. It won't be long now.”

“For what?”

“You're not too bright, Gretchen. Now I have to punish you again.” His footsteps neared and she felt his presence lean over her. His hand touched the top of her head and suddenly yanked her hair back at her scalp. As soon as her mouth opened in protest, he jammed a rag in, bringing tears to her eyes when she gagged.

He laughed, and in this moment she knew his abuse had nothing to do with a painting. Billy Baker took joy in belittling her and causing her pain. He relished using violence to control her.

“You're late,” Billy whispered harshly toward someone. Heavy footsteps dropped on board, tilting the boat. “I've delivered her, now give me the film.” A sound that mimicked the crunching of paper reached Gretchen's ears. “Perfect. Can't let that get into the wrong hands. I'd be ruined for sure.”

Footsteps drew close to Gretchen. Hot breath hit her in the face, and she knew Billy stood mere inches from her. “So long, Gretchen. If you'll excuse me, I have a certain film to torch. You don't have your proof any longer. I'd listen to this guy, though. I think he's capable of doing a lot more than cutting a few floorboards.”

Billy cut her floor? She wasn't surprised to learn this. A part of her always knew he could hurt her even before he ever did.

“Yeah, I did it. I saw that bucket sitting on the porch all by itself while that stupid host walked the property. I grabbed his jigsaw to put an end to your plans. But, as it turns out, putting an end to you is better.”

She felt the back of his hand brush her cheek, and she braced herself for the searing pain again. When he removed his hand suddenly, she flinched. She couldn't help it, she expected an attack. Billy's departing laughter told her he'd noticed her response, and she realized she still danced on his strings. She also realized that as a judge of character she was a failure. Which meant, for all she knew, the person Billy had just sold her to in exchange for saving his reputation could be Colm, the street-fighting thief himself.

The boat's motor roared to life. Gretchen tried to twist her body around but found Billy had not only tied her hands behind her back, he'd tied her down. Below her the deck vibrated through her whole body, and suddenly she felt the boat take off at full speed.

She screamed through the rag, twisting with all her might. She had to get off this boat before she was taken out to sea for her deadliest “accident” yet.