Scarlet Falls: Hour of Need Part 16

But Ellie jerked her fist back to her body. "It has nothing to do with trust."

"I want to help you."

"I know, but you can't." Her voice sharpened. She picked up the box of files, took three steps to the door, and opened it. "I'm going to run these files to the office. I'll tell Julia to walk Carson home."

"Thank you." But Grant was talking to empty air. Ellie was gone. He heard the front door open and shut.

He went back to the kitchen. Hannah was shaking a bottle of formula while Faith fussed on her hip. Though she still acted tentative, his sister's skill with the baby surprised him.

"I have to go to Carson's school." The only time the teacher, princ.i.p.al, and counselor had all been available today was after school hours. "He's over at Ellie's house. Julia will bring him home when he's ready. You OK here for a while? I shouldn't be that long. The grammar school is only a mile away."

"We're fine." Grabbing a dish towel, she moved to the family room and settled on the couch to feed the baby. "Could you hand me the remote before you go? I want to catch the market reports."

"Market reports?"

Hannah shrugged. "I have to do something."

Grant was tired of waiting, too. The police had made little headway on the murder case. The future of the children was undecided. The funeral was on hold until Lee's and Kate's bodies were released. Grant had only been in town a few days, but it seemed like much more time had pa.s.sed.

Driving to the school, Grant pondered Ellie and her changeable att.i.tude. He would keep working on her. Something was very wrong with Ellie Ross. He hadn't known her long, but the woman he'd interacted with today seemed totally different from the smiling woman he'd met at a barbecue and the level-headed woman who'd kept her grandmother from shooting him Monday night. Today's Ellie was terrified.

Something happened to change her entire personality in the last few days, and Grant's gut instincts suspected Ellie's 180 was connected to Kate and Lee's murder.

Chapter Nineteen.

Donnie slouched in the front seat, peered over the dashboard, and watched the hot teenage neighbor and the little boy go into the Barrett house. He'd done his research, and the details of Friday night's shooting had been reported to death. He'd learned all about the Barrett family. He pegged the big man who left thirty minutes ago as Major Grant Barrett, Lee's brother. He was military and therefore the one person Donnie would prefer to avoid. The blond woman he'd seen through the window was probably Lee's sister. She didn't worry Donnie. A female lawyer wouldn't be any more of a threat than her dead brother had been. One bullet had put him down. He hadn't even attempted to fight back.

If Donnie was going to get that boy, now was the time. But how to get in? A security system had been installed since he broke into the house last. If it weren't for the d.a.m.ned dog, he might be able to get past a few door and window contacts without anyone noticing him.

He rubbed his freezing hands together. He'd parked his vehicle in a shadow. The absence of the sun's rays kept the vehicle cold. His toes and a.s.s were numb.

The front door opened. The teenager pushed a stroller out onto the stoop. The little boy followed her. Could Donnie get more lucky?

No.

This was perfect. But he'd have no choice but to take the teen, too. His new motto was no witnesses. A six-year-old shouldn't be that hard to grab, but the two of them at once would be hard to manage. The thought of having that young girl all to himself for a couple of hours felt nearly as important as getting rid of the boy.

Kids were loud, so he needed to do this fast. The neighborhood seemed empty now, but at four o'clock, the window of opportunity was closing. He knew from his earlier stakeouts that homeowners would start returning from work soon.

If he grabbed the boy, would the teenager fight for him? She'd be torn because the baby was there, too. She might choose to protect the baby and run for help. Too many variables.

Whatever. Donnie would have to improvise.

He straightened his knit hat and brushed the wrinkles from his jeans. Too bad he didn't have a tie or jacket to make him look legitimate. Hood up or down? Definitely down. In this neighborhood, guys didn't wear hoods. He flipped down the visor and checked the concealer he'd used on the teardrop tattoo. It was heavy-duty, made for scars, the girl at the store had said. The blue ink bled through. Lying b.i.t.c.h. It was less noticeable, though. Hopefully, no one would see it until he got close.

He zipped his jacket to his chin, got out of the van, and headed toward the children.

Julia lowered her side of the seesaw to the ground, lifting Carson into the air. A red knit cap pulled low on his forehead shadowed the little boy's eyes, and cold colored his cheeks red. He wiped a hand under his nose, but a little snot on a mitten was worth the first smile she'd seen on his face all week.

Had it been almost a week since Mr. and Mrs. Barrett died? No, not quite. It had only been six days but seemed longer.

She glanced over at the baby stroller, parked next to the seesaw. Tucked under a thick pile of blankets, Faith slept. She'd just finished a bottle when Julia had brought Carson home and volunteered to take both kids outside.

Thin patches of snow still dotted the playground. Where the ground cover had melted, the gra.s.s was wet and squishy underfoot. Major Barrett didn't seem the kind of man that would mind some mud on the floor. Besides, Carson desperately needed the fresh air. Julia, too. She was grounded for a to-be-determined length of time. Sitting in the house had been making all three of them depressed.

After Julia's stunt with Taylor, this was as close to the outside world as she was going to get for a long time. Mom was really mad. Not yelling mad, but quiet mad, which was way worse. Now she was freaking out about Nan's broken foot, too. She'd probably be angry that Nan had suggested Julia take the kids to the playground.

With a woof, AnnaBelle raced to Julia. She spit a tennis ball next to her, then danced backward, barking. Julia hurled the ball across the park. The dog streaked off after it.

"I wish I could throw that far," Carson said, climbing off the seesaw. He jogged over to the slide and started climbing.

Julia checked the baby again. She slid off her glove and reached under the blanket to make sure Faith's body was warm. The s.p.a.ce under the fleece blanket felt toasty.

A sharp bark drew her attention. AnnaBelle was racing across the muddy ground toward her. She slid to a stop.

"Where's the ball, AnnaBelle?"

But the dog wasn't looking at her. His ears were p.r.i.c.ked toward the street. A white van was parked at the curb. She'd seen that vehicle before, but when? Julia's neck p.r.i.c.kled.

To keep the small kids away from the street, the playground was separated from the sidewalk by a basketball court and rectangular patch of gra.s.s. The s.p.a.ce between the van and the kids didn't feel like nearly enough distance.

Instinctively, she glanced around for Carson. He was scampering off the bottom of the slide.

"Carson," she called.

He ran over, bits of mud flying from under his snow boots and splattering his waterproof pants. His eyes were bright as he chewed on the end of his mitten. "What?"

Julia put a hand on the stroller handle. The van's door opened, and a man got out. He looked familiar, but she couldn't place him.

"It's him again." Carson backed up a step. His eyes filled with apprehension.

"Have you seen him before?"

Carson nodded. "He knocked on the door the night Mommy and Daddy left, remember?" The little boy's expression darkened, the happiness of playing in the mud wiped out as he remembered his new reality.

But movement pulled Julia's gaze back to the man. He was walking toward them. She searched her memory but came up with nothing except a weird, creepy sensation that made her want to get away.

"Let's go home." She pushed the stroller in the opposite direction.

"Hey," the man called. "I need to talk to you."

Julia walked faster. So did he. The stroller wheels slogged in the mud. Julia leaned into her task. Carson tried to help, clutching the handle with both mittens and pus.h.i.+ng hard.

"I'm a reporter. I just want to ask you a few questions." He increased his speed.

There was no way they'd get away with the stroller bogging down in the muck. Julia reached into the stroller and picked up the baby. "Run, Carson. I don't think he's a reporter."

One glance at Carson told her he didn't believe the man was with the press either. Carson darted for his house.

Clutching the baby to her chest, Julia broke into a run. There were no cars in any of the driveways between them and the house. No one was home from work yet.

At her side, Carson's boots splashed in the mud. The little boy's short legs couldn't cover much ground, and Julia couldn't go any faster carrying Faith. The man was gaining on them. AnnaBelle ran between them, barking. Julia's lungs burned. She slipped in the mud and nearly went down.

"Hurry," Carson cried. He grabbed her sleeve and pulled. Julia straightened out her legs, but she'd lost precious time. The man was closer. She could hear his ragged breathing as he sprinted toward her.

A whimper slid from her lips. Her shoes. .h.i.t the pavement. A few seconds later, she heard his boots sc.r.a.pe asphalt. No! Barely thirty feet separated them.

What could she do?

He was going to catch them. They didn't stand a chance of escape. Maybe if she slowed him down, Carson and Faith could get away. She couldn't fight him off carrying the baby, and Carson had no chance against a full-grown man. AnnaBelle barked, but Julia doubted the retriever would attack.

"Carson." Still running, she shoved the baby toward Carson. "Can you carry her?"

He nodded, stopping to take his sister before waddling toward the house with his heavy burden.

"Get help!" Julia moved between the man and the children. Facing the threat, she backed toward the house, praying that a.s.sistance came before the man hurt her. Her body shook. He ran closer. She trembled as her gaze locked on his face and registered his fury.

Chapter Twenty.

With her mind occupied with estate paperwork, Hannah flipped through financial statements at her brother's desk. She reached for a paper clip. Lee kept them in a small, misshapen bowl at the edge of the blotter. To Daddy from Carson was carved into the cavity in sloppy, lopsided letters. The vessel was roughly formed, obviously by childish hands, and cracked, but Lee had displayed it proudly. Hannah surveyed the office. Where had he gotten the money? She couldn't think he'd been involved in anything shady. Not Lee. But why had he indebted his family to buy this monstrosity of a house and lease a BMW? He'd never been concerned with prestige or image in the past. Had ambition finally snagged Lee the way it tugged at Hannah and Grant?

How could Lee be gone?

A sob slipped past her lips, and from there her control broke. She covered her face with her hands and fought the tears, but it was no use. Her breakdown had been building since she found out about her brother's death. There was no holding it back now.

She reached for a tissue and blew her nose. Thankfully, Grant was out of the house, and Julia had taken the kids to the playground. Hannah would hate to be another source of sadness for Carson. The prospect of outdoor play had put him in a happy mood. A glance at the clock on the computer told her Grant could be back any time. She blotted her eyes. She needed to get it together. He needed her help, not one more person to cry all over him.

Most days it took all her effort to smile instead of swear. What happened to Lee was wrong on a base level. He was the good guy, kind and considerate. The one who'd visited Dad in the nursing home while the rest of the Barrett clan chased their dreams all over the globe. As far as Hannah traveled, she'd always known Lee was here. He had things covered. He was home base. She could return at any time and things would seem unchanged.

But that was all over. Lee was dead.

Pain welled up inside her chest, creating pressure that restricted her breaths. Since her mother died, it was fear of this feeling, this helplessness, this sense of all being lost that made her a loner. The fewer people she loved, the lower her risk of experiencing this overwhelming sadness again.

A frantic scream snapped her attention to the front window. She jumped up and crossed the tiny room. Fear gripped her belly like fingertips on a ledge at the sight though the gla.s.s. Beyond Lee's driveway, Julia and Carson were running toward the house. A man chased them, gaining ground.

Hannah ran for the door. Her socks slid on the hardwood as she bolted down the hall and yanked open the front door. In the street ahead, Julia handed the baby to Carson. The girl put herself between the younger children and the threat. The dog stood at Julia's side, barking. Hannah leaped over the front steps.

h.e.l.l, no. He was not getting that girl.

Hannah burst forward, sprinting down the driveway toward the children.

The man whirled, taking off in the opposite direction. Hannah pa.s.sed the children and chased him, anger fueling her long legs. Mud soaked through her socks. She cranked up her speed.

He cut across the park toward a white van. Hannah turned onto the gra.s.s just as he leaped into the vehicle and took off with the squeal of tires on pavement.

She stopped, shaded her eyes, and squinted at the license plate, but it was covered with mud.

d.a.m.n it.

She noted the make and model of the vehicle. Winded, Hannah wheezed back to the house. She needed to get back in shape. Julia and the kids huddled on Ellie Ross's front porch. In front of them, Julia's grandmother sat on the step. Nan's booted, broken foot was extended on the concrete. A shotgun lay across her lap. With her left wrist in a brace, she gripped the gun with one hand, using her knee to hold up the barrel.

Hannah stopped on the walkway that curved to the steps. "Is everyone all right?"

Though fear shone in her eyes, Julia nodded over the baby's head on her shoulder. Carson lunged off the step and threw his arms around Hannah's waist. She hesitated, her hands hovering above his shoulders for a minute, before folding him into an awkward hug. The kind of love Carson offered terrified her with its strength and wholeheartedness. Was she capable of returning that much affection? What if she messed up?

Grant pulled into the driveway and jumped out of the minivan. "What happened?"

"Julia took us to the park. A man chased us." In a single breath, Carson abandoned Hannah for Grant's strong embrace.

Hannah was simultaneously disappointed and relieved.

"I'm calling the police." Hannah turned toward the house, away from Grant and Carson and the baby clinging to Julia, away from the responsibility, the dependency.

"Already did that," said Nan.

"Did you call Ellie?" Grant asked.

Nan shook her head. "No. She's on her way home from dropping off some files at the office. I didn't want her driving upset."

Hannah eyed the shotgun across the older woman's knees. She approved of the old lady's s.p.u.n.k, but doubted Nan could even fire the gun if necessary.

"You bet I can fire it," Nan said.

Hannah paused.

"Honey, I didn't need to read your mind to know what you were thinking." Nan held a hand out. "Would you be a dear and help me up?"

"You aren't supposed to put any weight on that foot." Grant set Carson down.

"It was an emergency." Nan shrugged, but pain lined her face. She unloaded the gun, putting the sh.e.l.ls into the pocket of her cardigan.

Grant scooped her off the step and turned toward his brother's house. "Let's all stick together. It'll be easier when the police show up. Julia, could you get your grandmother's crutches?"

Julia handed Faith to Hannah. She folded the baby close, trying to ignore how much she liked the scent of baby powder. Hannah had only been here a couple of days, and these kids were already burrowing into her heart. She was clearly not meant to be in charge of children. They'd been in her care for an hour, and she'd failed them. Grant couldn't run one errand without Hannah putting the children in danger.

Clutching Faith close to her chest, Hannah herded Carson into his house. Grant went back to the adjoining family room and set Nan on the sofa. He stowed her shotgun on top of the refrigerator, out of Carson's reach.