“It’s Nix and Dana.”
Dalton’s heart sank. Dana. Of course she’d be with Nix. They were practically inseparable these days. Walker Nix was one of the reasons she’d decided to stick around Bitterwood instead of heading back to Atlanta.
“If you want to go without seeing your sister,” Briar said quietly, “you can always go out the back.”
Was his dismay so obvious? “I’m not sneaking out like a criminal.”
She shrugged and opened the door at the first sound of footsteps on the front porch. Dana Massey entered first, her eyes widening a notch at the sight of Dalton. Walker Nix followed on her heels, the look he shot at Dalton tinged less with surprise and more with suspicion.
“What are you doing here?” Nix asked.
“He came to my rescue,” Briar answered, locking the door behind them. “Don’t ask why. He doesn’t seem inclined to share his secrets.”
She made him sound like a foot-stomping adolescent, Dalton thought. Hell, maybe that’s what he’d been acting like for the past few months. He’d be the first to admit he hadn’t taken well the earthshaking change in his life history.
“I saw what transpired,” Dalton said. “I’ll tell you what I remember, though I’m afraid it was too dark for me to have seen anything I could testify to in a court of law.”
Nix looked him up and down once, then nodded toward the sofa. “Well, we’ll start with what you can tell us and worry about prosecution later. How about that?”
As Dalton followed the detective to the sofa, he spared one last look at Briar Blackwood standing by the door, her arms crossed defensively over her breasts, her thundercloud gaze following him relentlessly across the room.
* * *
“WHAT DO YOU think he wants with you?” Dana’s voice was little more than a whisper as she walked with Briar into the kitchen.
“He thinks Johnny was part of Cortland’s crew,” Briar answered just as quietly, moving past the now-sticky kitchen table to grab a clean dishcloth. She drenched the cloth with water from the tap and headed for the table to clean up the mess, starting with Logan’s hands and face.
He was grinning now, a strawberry-stained show of little-boy joy that made her heart swell with love. If he was traumatized by what had nearly happened outside only a short while ago, the ice cream had sent it into remission for the time being.
But she couldn’t forget as easily. The men who’d accosted her outside her Jeep had tried to pull Logan away from her. In fact, the more she went over events in her mind, the more convinced she was that this attack, at least, had been all about taking Logan.
But why? She wasn’t in the middle of a custody battle. Johnny’s family saw Logan as much as they cared to, which wasn’t that often, and none of them had shown any sign of wanting to change the custody situation. She certainly had no money or possessions to offer as ransom, and anyone who could sneak through the woods quietly enough that she hadn’t heard them coming would surely know that much about her financial situation.
Yet she couldn’t change the facts of what had happened outside tonight. She couldn’t forget the way one of the men had tugged so ferociously at Logan that she’d been terrified, for a heart-stopping moment before the shots rang out, that she would lose her grip on her son and he’d be spirited away, lost from her forever.
“Do you think Johnny could have been working for Cortland?” Dana asked.
Briar had been pondering that question ever since Dalton had raised it at the hospital. Was it possible? She knew Johnny’s truck route included Travisville, Virginia, where Cortland Lumber had been located before an explosion destroyed the place not long after Johnny’s murder. It was obviously how Johnny had met the woman Dalton Hale believed Johnny had been sleeping with.
But could the man she’d married, the man she’d loved since she was fifteen years old, have gotten involved in the kind of violence and murder Wayne Cortland and his crew of drug dealers, gunrunners and anarchists had spread through the hills for the past couple of years?
The last few years of their marriage had left Briar with few illusions about her childhood sweetheart. He was a better liar than she’d ever credited him to be, and, sadly, she suspected Dalton was probably right about the affair. There’d been other infidelities, as well.
But crossing the line into extortion and murder? Could she really picture Johnny doing such a thing?
She didn’t want to believe it. But something had driven a couple of ruthless intruders to her home for two nights in a row.
“I don’t know,” she answered finally. “But I mean to find out.”
* * *
“SO, WHY ARE you here, anyway?”
Dalton turned his gaze from the head-to-head huddle between Briar Blackwood and Walker Nix, meeting Dana Massey’s wary gaze. He shrugged. “Just passing by.”
“Convenient timing,” she murmured.
“Do you have something you want to say to me? Spit it out.”
Dana’s lips pressed to a tight line. “I know you hate me right now.”
“Hate is far too loaded a word,” he said quietly. “I don’t hate you. I don’t know you well enough to feel anything that strong for you.”
“And you don’t want to.”
He shrugged. “Biology isn’t destiny.”
“Clearly.” She pinned him with a long, cool look and moved away.
With a sigh, Dalton looked back at the two cops locked in low conversation on the sofa. From what little he’d overheard of their discussion, Nix seemed to be asking Briar most of the same questions he’d asked Dalton. He hoped Briar was able to fill in more blanks for the detective than he had.
The noise of Briar’s Jeep passing close by had jarred him from a doze, but it had taken him several seconds more to drag himself to full consciousness. Several seconds more to see the hulking shadows slinking into the clearing from the woods nearby, and more seconds still to realize that he was watching an ambush unfold. He’d looked away for several seconds to retrieve the rifle and set himself up to fire a warning shot.
In truth, he’d seen little of what had gone on between Briar and her assailants. The one thing he remembered, the one element of the attack that had stuck in his head after the rest had faded into chaos, was how desperately she’d held on to her little boy when one of the attackers had tried to wrest him away.
Clearly, Logan meant everything to her.
The boy was asleep on the sofa beside Briar, curled up under a crocheted throw. Dana had offered to take him to his bed, but Briar hadn’t wanted to let him out of her sight. Dalton wondered how she would handle it the next evening when she had to leave him with someone so she could work her patrol shift.
He could solve that problem for her, he realized, the solution weaving itself into place in his sleep-deprived mind. Staying here at this cabin, in the middle of nowhere, only made her
