The Highlander Next Door (7 page)

Niall stopped his truck next to the familiar red compact car half-driven into the bushes, his hopes dashed that the absence of a bridge had been enough to deter Birch from her mission. But it was obvious the spitfire had simply waded across the fast-moving brook, which for her would be thigh-high in places. The only thing that kept him from roaring in frustration were the slip marks in the gravel on the opposite bank, indicating she hadn’t fallen and been swept downstream. That the tracks were dry, however, said he was behind her by at least an hour.

A lot could happen in an hour.

Hell, a confrontation could turn deadly in the blink of an eye.

Niall engaged the four-wheel-drive and edged his truck into the water, ignoring Shep’s whining as the dog stood on the passenger seat with his nose pressed against the windshield. They made it halfway across before the tires began fighting for purchase on the various-sized rocks, Shep giving a snarl when the truck lurched violently enough to send him tumbling over the console. “Will you relax,” Niall muttered, shoving the dog away and gunning the motor to make it up the opposite bank. “I’m not letting ye out to run ahead. We’ll go another half mile and make the rest of our way on foot,” he added, also ignoring the fact he’d developed the habit of talking to his dog.

But hell, it had to beat talking to himself.

Niall eventually stopped and turned around by repeatedly driving the truck’s nose and tailgate into the bushes until he was facing the way he’d come, then backed up the narrow road and stopped between two large trees to cut off Vaughn’s escape route. He tossed the key on the floor as he got out ahead of Shep, deciding to leave
his
means of escape unlocked on the chance he’d have to tell Birch to make a run for it, then patted his leg to signal his first officer to stay beside him and broke into a ground-eating lope.

Spotting the unpainted two-story house a short while later, Niall veered into the woods and crouched on the edge of the clearing—Shep standing beside him on full alert, the dog’s nostrils flaring like a blacksmith’s bellows—and took note of the fairly new pickup and short-bodied logging truck parked next to a barn. But except for a large workhorse and two young cattle grazing in a small field and a dozen or so chickens milling about the yard, the place appeared deserted.

The only thing wrong with the peaceful scene was the heaviness he felt in the air, reminding Niall of the aftermath of hard and bloody battles when the deafening peal of clashing swords and screams of men would suddenly give way to an eerie silence. He stood up and reached under the back of his jacket and pulled out the compact pistol, jacked a shell into the chamber and checked the safety, then returned the weapon to the holster tucked inside his belt at the small of his back. He may have reached the advanced age of thirty-three without needing a gun, but then, he’d never really had to worry about anyone shooting at him nine hundred years ago, either.

“You go first,” he said, nudging Shep with his knee. “Try to look pathetic and lost,” he added, only to sigh when the dog bolted for the house.

Figuring Shep’s nose had told him everything they needed to know, Niall sprinted across the clearing and followed the dog along the side of the house and up onto the porch. He opened the screen door but hesitated, looking around the yard as he slowly twisted the knob, fully aware he needed a warrant to enter a person’s house uninvited. But if that person had left in a hurry without tightly closing the door, he decided when Shep gave an impatient growl, and the wind blew it open and a man’s dog ran inside . . . well, going in to retrieve his dog was the neighborly thing to do. Especially since Shep appeared certain there wasn’t anyone waiting inside with a gun.

Aye, Vaughn should be more mindful about locking up behind himself, because the door suddenly swung back on its hinges and his four-legged first officer charged inside. Giving up all pretense of being neighborly, Niall stepped into a sparse and obscenely neat kitchen all but humming with that same oppressive silence.

Well, it was silent but for the sound of Shep scratching at another door. Niall spotted the thick wooden bar being held in place by two metal brackets and grinned in relief, since he couldn’t see any reason to lock a door unless whoever was on the other side was perfectly fine and likely spitting mad. He lifted the bar and cracked open the door, half expecting Birch to come charging toward him armed with her bear spray, only to find nothing but dark, musty air on the other side. “Stay,” he told Shep as he slowly opened the door to reveal a stairway leading down to a cellar.

But still no spitfire.

Forget driving him crazy; the woman was determined to kill him with worry.

Niall bit back a curse when Shep bolted past him and all but tripped down the stairs in his eagerness to get to the bottom. “We’re going to have to work on that
stay
command,” he muttered, following more slowly as the old steps bowed and creaked under his weight, stopping when he reached the bottom to let his eyes adjust to the stingy sunlight streaming through a small window in the fieldstone foundation.

Following the sound of claws scratching against wood again, Niall found Shep trying to tear his way through another door, this one apparently locked from the inside. Aye, Sam may have a point about policemen needing opposable thumbs, Niall decided as he gave the door a sharp tug—only to find himself scrambling to catch Birch when she exploded toward him.

“Sweet God, woman, it’s me,” he said, folding her into a fierce hug as he closed his eyes in relief and merely weathered her ineffectual blows. “You’re okay now, Birch. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Either he finally got through to her or she finally wore herself out, because she suddenly went as still as a stone. “Oh
mon Dieu
, I thought you were Ike Vaughn. Ah . . . you can let me down now.”

Not that she felt ready to be let down, since she was hugging him back just as fiercely. “Would ye mind much if I held you a bit longer?” he said, slowly turning to look for something to sit on. “Just until
I
stop shaking?” Sweeping his arm under her knees when she leaned away, Niall sat on an old wooden trunk with her in his lap. “I’m serious,” he said, cutting off her protest. “Ye gave me quite a scare.”

Her face flushing, Birch looked down when Shep nudged her hand, and Niall couldn’t help but notice she let the dog lick her fingers. “I’m sorry I attacked you,” she whispered, darting him a quick glance before returning her attention to Shep. “I thought you were Misty’s father coming back to . . . to . . . I’m sorry I hit you.”

“I’m not,” Niall said with a chuckle. “I was relieved ye came out swinging. What I’m referring to is the scare ye gave me when I saw your car at the brook but then got here and found the place empty.” He nodded at Shep when Birch looked up in surprise. “Ye have the pooch to thank for sniffing you out.”

She looked down again, this time giving Shep’s ear a scratch. “I wouldn’t really ever spray him,” she said, finally relaxing into Niall.

“Speaking of your bear spray, where is it?”

“In my jacket on a peg upstairs. How did you know to come looking for me?”

“Your mum got worried when you didn’t answer your cell phone, and she told Peg where you had gone this morning and why. May I ask where your phone is?”

“In my jacket with the spray.” She finally looked up, and Niall felt the knot in his chest finish loosening when he saw a spark of fire return to her eyes. “Are you going to arrest Ike Vaughn for locking me down here?”

“Did he hurt you, Birch?”

The woman went from relaxed to deflated. “No. He certainly hollered a lot, but he never touched me. He just dragged Misty upstairs and locked the door.”

“You were already down here, then?”

“Mrs. Vaughn—her name is Sally—was alone when I arrived. She invited me inside when she saw my pants and boots were wet, and took my jacket and hung it on a peg by the door and made me tea.”

“So Misty wasn’t home?”

Birch pointed at a small bed in the far corner. “I didn’t know it at the time, but she’s apparently been locked down here for the last week. When I asked Sally where Misty was, the woman went deathly pale and asked how I knew her. Figuring I wasn’t disclosing anything she didn’t already know, I told her what Misty’s friend had told me this morning and explained that I could bring her daughter back to the shelter with me. I also told her that once Misty was settled, I could sit down with her and her husband and we could discuss their . . . options. Have you stopped shaking yet?”

“Almost. So Mrs. Vaughn brought you down here?”

Birch snapped her head up. “Don’t you even think about arresting her. Sally was hoping I could
help
Misty.” She took a calming breath and went back to fingering Shep’s ear. “While we were having tea, I explained what the Crisis Center is all about, and Sally asked if it was only for young pregnant girls. And when I told her it’s for any woman who feels threatened, I got the impression she wanted to come to the shelter, too. The three of us were down here when Ike came home. Sally had said he was working up back in the woods. You don’t feel like you’re shaking.”

In truth, Niall was surprised she’d let him hold her this long, which had him believing that even though Vaughn hadn’t actually touched her, the bastard sure as hell had scared her. “Aye, I’m feeling much better now,” he said, pushing Shep out of the way and lifting Birch to her feet, only to realize that now his pants were damp, too. He stood up and walked to the corner, his gut tightening when he saw Sally Vaughn’s attempts to make her daughter’s prison comfortable, noting the colorful quilt and stuffed animals, the tiny radio on the nightstand, and the worn rug on the dirt floor beside the bed. “How long ago did the Vaughns leave?” he asked, remembering he hadn’t met a vehicle on his way in or seen any sign that one had driven out the road this morning.

“About half an hour ago. They’re probably all the way to Turtleback by now.”

“Did you hear a vehicle leave? There’s still a pickup in the yard.”

Her eyes widened and she looked toward the stairs—even as she sidled closer to him, Niall couldn’t help but notice. “He’s coming back,” she whispered, hugging herself. “He’s stashing them in the woods and coming back to deal with me.”

Aye, judging by her reaction, the altercation with Hazel’s fourth husband wasn’t the only time Birch had found herself dealing with an angry man. “He’d best be bringing a small army with him, then.”

“You should let him see you’re armed,” she rushed on, pulling open his jacket. “Your holster’s empty!”

Instead of responding, Niall pushed Birch behind his back when Shep gave an ominous growl seconds before loud footsteps stormed into the kitchen and the cellar doorway darkened with the silhouette of a male.

“What the—
Shep
?” the man said in surprise, slamming the door closed just as the dog reached the top of the stairs. “Niall, are you down there?” the now-muffled voice continued through the door.

“Is that you, Reggie?” Niall asked, heading up the rickety stairs to the sound of the heavy wooden bar sliding into place. “Dammit, boy, don’t lock the door.”

“Did you talk to Misty this morning?” the teenager said through the wood.

“Nay, she left with her father and mother nearly an hour ago.” Niall crowded past Shep and pushed against the door. “What are ye doing here, son? Have you been seeing Vaughn’s daughter?”

“He’s going to kill her.”

“Then unlock the door so I can help you go after her.”

“I don’t need your help. I only came to get the bag Misty packed so we can run away. We were supposed to leave tonight, but she texted me and said some lady showed up here this morning and that her father caught them.”

“She has a cell phone?” Birch cried out as she raced up the stairs, making the old stairway groan and shudder under the added weight.

“Shep, go down,” Niall said, freezing in place as the dog scrambled away.

“Reggie,” Birch continued, apparently oblivious to the danger, “are you the baby’s father?”

“I need to go,” the boy said instead of answering. “Misty’s old man is crazy and I don’t know what he’ll do to her. Her last text said she thought he was taking her and her mom to an old logging camp up at Spellbound Stream’s headwaters. I’m sorry, Niall, but I can’t let you stop me.”

“I have no intention of stopping you; only helping.”

“You’ll get out of here eventually,” Reggie went on, “but I need to buy some time before you can tell Julia. I . . . I’m sorry.”

“Wait!” Birch cried. “Reggie, I—
we
want to help you. Misty’s mom is in danger, too. And Shep might be able to lead us to them. He can follow their scent.”

“You that lady from the Crisis Center?”

“Yes. I’m Birch Callahan. Think about this, Reggie. What can you possibly do all by yourself when you catch up with them? We can—”

“You ruined everything! I gave Misty a cell phone a couple of months ago, but it won’t work in the cellar, and she could only call me when they let her come up to take a shower. I was gonna help her escape tonight, but then you showed up. I know where she’s going and can contact her when it’s time to make a run for it.”