Page 53 of Beneath the Mountain Sky (McBride Brother Lumberjacks #1)

He opens his mouth to argue with me. I know I am going to piss him off because he ordered me to stay behind him, but I step around and push past him, cautiously advancing to the kitchen, where her song fills the air.

I cautiously step through the jamb and glance inside.

She stands with her back to me, looking out a window, rocking side to side, completely oblivious that her home has been infiltrated.

Stay calm.

That’s easy for me to tell myself, harder for me to actually do with so much at stake.

My heart slams violently against my ribs, blood rushing in my ears as I take another step into the kitchen.

I clear my throat, the sound shockingly loud in the peaceful, quiet space.

She startles, turning toward me quickly.

My breath catches.

Oh, my God.

Relief floods through me, washing away all those doubts, those worries.

All I can see is Niall cradled against her chest.

Apparently healthy, whole, well-cared for.

Thank God…

Her eyes widen as they land on me, and she stills, instantly on guard at seeing someone in her home.

I quickly hold up my hands. “I’m sorry to startle you, Amy. I knocked, but no one answered.”

It’s a lie.

But considering how far back she is in the house, if she didn’t hear the ATV approach outside, she wouldn’t have heard a knock, either.

Her wrinkled brow furrows deeper, and she clutches Niall even closer to her protectively. “Who are you?”

The vise around my chest tightens at the movement from the woman who helped take my life and baby. She’s protecting my own child from me .

“My name is Willow. You know me. We met at the clinic several times when I was younger.”

It’s been years since she worked at the clinic as a nurse. Easily in her late sixties now, Earl’s older sister looks every bit like the mother I wished I had and found in Connie.

Graying reddish hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, kind eyes locked on us. She was always so sweet to anyone who came into the clinic needing help. But now, all I can see is the woman who helped a madman.

Still, I somehow force a smile.

You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.

That’s what Connie always used to say.

Maybe that was why the bees always gave Killian so much trouble when they never did me—even they could sense his wild bitterness.

I glance back at Killian, and he steps into the light behind me.

Amy retreats a half step.

A big man like him, looking the way he does right now—downright feral—I don’t blame her.

“You know Killian McBride?”

She tilts her head slightly, then nods. “Yes, I believe I helped set your arm when you broke it when you were in, what? Third grade?”

Killian nods. “Around then.”

Her gaze darts between us. “What are you two doing here?”

His glacial eyes lock on the baby, and he slides the gun behind his back as he steps into the kitchen farther. He’s smart enough to know that if he pulls it, this could end badly.

I take a cautious step toward her.

Please, God, don’t let me be wrong about this. Don’t let me be wrong about her.

“We’re here for our son.”

* * *

KILLIAN

Our son.

Those words still have a stranglehold on me.

My heart beats faster, my skin tightening over taut muscle and bone. But it’s actually seeing him that makes my lungs seize.

The way Amy cradles him against her chest, all that’s visible is his tiny face turned halfway toward us. His eyes closed, lips parted slightly as he sleeps comfortably in her arms.

Our son. Our son. Our son.

Her brow furrows as she looks at us. “What do you mean by ‘your’ son?”

She glances down at the baby in her arms, one that was ripped so violently from Willow’s only a few weeks ago.

Willow inclines her head toward Niall. “You’re holding him.”

Amy shakes her head, retreating another step until her back hits the counter behind her. “No, this is my great nephew, Earl’s grandson.”

Willow goes completely rigid beside me.

I step forward, not wanting to startle Amy, but I also don’t want to give her space to try to do something crazy like run with him. “No.” I shake my head. “He isn’t. I don’t know what Earl told you, but…”

The older woman sputters, and her gaze darts between the baby and the two of us. “He said Roberta came back with their son and that this is his grandson.”

I grit my jaw, clenching my teeth together so hard they ache, wanting to scream.

That’s a fucking lie.

There is no way Amy didn’t know what was happening, what her brother was doing to Willow…

I want to scream at her to get her hands off him, to rail at her for being an accessory to kidnapping, and even worse, but I can’t risk something happening to Niall.

My body trembles with barely restrained rage, and Willow seems momentarily stunned, watching the woman carefully as if she’s assessing how to best approach her.

Finally, Willow takes a step forward. “That’s not true, and you know it, Amy.

” She inches forward another step, but the long counter between them acts as a barricade, preventing her from getting to Amy and Niall unless she takes the time to walk around it.

“You know Roberta didn’t come back. You know he thought I was Roberta and that he” —she points to our son—“was the baby she took from him twenty years ago.”

A single tear slips down Amy’s cheek as she shakes her head. “No.”

Willow stands her ground. “ Yes. ”

We both know Earl was too far gone mentally to have realized he would need to stage a ruse as complicated as what happened with Raven.

Willow said he was never lucid enough to know who he was—or wasn’t —so there is no way in hell he could have understood how essential it would be to send those notes and gifts to Raven, to get Willow to write them in her own handwriting and reference things only she could know so as to not raise suspicions.

He needed help.

From someone familiar with the town and the people in it.

Someone he trusted.

Like Amy, who knows everyone because of her work in the clinic with Doc Broward for so many years.

She retired only a few years before Willow left, would have understood her relationship with Raven—and the fact that Raven would have investigated her friend’s disappearance if she weren’t convinced she left of her own accord and was somewhere else, happy and safe.

Willow glances over at me as the tears well in her eyes, her growing frustration registering in her twisted lips, as if she’s biting back what she really wants to say to this woman, the same way I am.

“We know you helped Earl, Amy. We know you arranged for the gifts and notes to go to Raven. What I need to know is why? ” Her voice cracks.

“ Why didn’t you help me get away from him? ”

I place my left hand on her lower back, ignoring the pain in my arm, offering her what comfort and support I can, while struggling to maintain my cool, despite my vibrating rage.

Goddamn that man for what he did to her, for putting her in this position…

A sob slips from Amy’s lips, and she clings to Niall, clearly having no intention of simply handing him over. “I-I…”

I barely manage to bite back the growl trying to climb my throat. “You what ?”

The old woman’s brow furrows, pain flashing across her teary gaze. “I didn’t know what to do…”

It’s as close to an admission as I need to confirm everything we suspected.

Willow sags slightly, then rests her palms flat on the counter to keep herself upright. “Tell us what happened.”

In all the memories that came back to her, Willow never mentioned Amy. Never saw her up at that dilapidated cabin. All she remembers is being asked to write the notes…by Earl .

Tears stream freely down Amy’s face now, and she starts rocking again, to soothe herself or the baby.

Maybe both. She glances down at Niall, refusing to look at us.

“He-he comes and goes on his ATV, stops by when he needs supplies and comes to town. He makes sure I get what I need out here.” Her green eyes shift up to meet mine, then move to Willow.

“And one day, he just…showed up with your truck. I recognized it. Knew it was yours. But he said Roberta was back. ”

Willow’s hands fist on the counter. “Did you see me?”

Amy quickly shakes her head. “No. No. Never. He took you up the mountain and never brought you to the house. But I knew…”

I take a step toward her, unable to hold back. “What did you know, Amy? Why did you help him?”

Another sob wrenches from deep in her chest, waking Niall and making him squirm.

Willow shifts toward the edge of the counter, like she’s about to make a grab for him, but Amy inches closer to the door that leads out of the kitchen and to the endless wilderness.

I grab Willow’s arm, stopping her advance.

She trembles just as badly as I do right now. I can feel Willow’s frustration bubbling over in every quiver of her body against my hand, but she somehow manages to maintain her composure.

Not panicking.

Amy swallows a few times, shaking her head.

“I knew something wasn’t right. That Earl hasn’t been completely himself for a long time, living up there alone.

But I didn’t know he had you until he came back down a few weeks later.

He kept rambling about Bobby and the baby coming.

” Her gaze drops to the fussy Niall, and she adjusts her hold on him.

“It clicked in my head how much you looked like Bobby did back then and that he hadn’t bought that truck from you… ”

This time, I don’t bite back my growl. “But you didn’t go to the sheriff!”

She issues another sob. “No.” Several strands of reddish-gray hair slip from her bun as she vigorously shakes her head. “I couldn’t. Earl is all I have left. My only family. My only connection to the outside world. He takes care of me. He?—”

Willow slams her fist on the counter, the sound making Amy jump. “He kidnapped me. He abused me. He kept me captive in that cabin for a year. He stole my baby! ”

I snarl, tightening my grip on the gun. “And you helped him.”

Amy sobs, tears sliding down her cheeks. “I did. I’m so sorry. I-I…” She looks at Niall. “I just wanted my nephew back.”

Liam.

This woman knows damn well Niall isn’t the baby Roberta fled with twenty years ago, but she deluded herself into believing the lie. To give herself what she wanted.

Our son.

“Amy…” I try to keep my voice level despite my rising anger. “Tell us about the notes. How did you get Willow to write them and get them to Raven?”

Anything we can learn from her now will be useful later, when the prosecutor reviews the case and issues charges against her and her brother.

She sniffles, looking at Willow. “I remembered you two were best friends. The last time I was in town before this happened with Earl, I had seen you having coffee and croissants together at Claire’s.

I knew she would worry if you just…disappeared.

When Earl came back down the next time, I gave him some postcards I had from some of my own travels, along with a note I said was for Bobby. ”

Willow shivers. “I remember it.” Her gray eyes cut over to me.

“She told me she would ensure I had everything I needed for the baby if I cooperated and wrote notes to Raven. She told me to include facts only I would know and that if I tried anything, like slipping in any information to indicate things weren’t as they appeared, that she could cut off our supplies. ”

Which would risk both Willow’s and the baby’s life.

This woman may appear sweet and unassuming, but this was premeditated.

Diabolical on a level that rivals what her brother did.

Only she knew what she was doing.

She knew he was delusional and holding Willow against her will, yet she let this all continue.

Facilitated it.

None of this would have happened if not for Amy Byers.

Raven would have realized something was wrong when she couldn’t get a hold of Willow and didn’t hear from her. She would have eventually gone to Tony and asked for help in finding her. And Tony would have come to me.

Willow clenches her fists so tightly that her knuckles whiten. “How did you get them sent from those locations?”

Amy averts her gaze, adjusting her hold on Niall, who has resettled. “They’re all close. Drivable. I used your truck to go to each location and mail them, to ensure the postmarks were right…”

This was calculated.

Cold.

She’s as much of a monster as her brother.

And I’ve heard all I need to.

I slide the gun into my waistband to free up my hands. “Earl was taken into custody after he shot at us.” Her gaze falls to my bloody arm. “He’s going away for the rest of his life for what he did. It’s over now. It’s time for you to give us our son.”

It’s time to end this.

For Willow.

For Niall.

For me.

For all of us.

Amy chews on her bottom lip, considering my words, clinging to the baby she helped steal .

This lonely woman living in this crumbling house thought she could have a family again by taking mine.

Her legs start to crumple, and I rush forward to catch her before she hits the floor or drops the baby. As I hold her steady, my son pinned between us, she looks up at me. Her red hair graying at the temples, matching that of her brother’s…

And Liam’s.

I stare down into her eyes filled with so much confusion but also pain.

It’s nothing compared to what she caused Willow and me.

“You need to give him to us.”

I don’t know what she sees in my eyes, whether it’s determination, anger, or agony. Likely, all of the above. But she nods and allows me to take the baby from her arms gently.

His tiny weight settles in my palms, and all the breath rushes from my lungs again.

He squirms and lets out a squeal, apparently not happy about the change of position, the loss of the body heat, and the comforting hold he’s grown to know over the last few weeks.

And I don’t have a fucking clue what to do with him.

I haven’t held a baby since Liam was one.

Don’t know how to comfort him.

How to ensure he knows he’s safe and loved.

What the hell do I do?

Willow rushes over, sliding her hands into place and taking him from me, settling him to her chest, and burying her face against his tiny head, sobs wrenching from deep in her chest.

Tears trickle from my eyes.

Amy grips the edge of the counter to keep herself upright. “I am so sorry. I didn’t— I’m-I’m so sorry…”

I turn away from her as she finally collapses onto the old linoleum.

Her words don’t mean anything.

Nothing she can say will take back what she’s done or give us what we’ve lost.

Just like nothing I can do will ever make up for what I said to Willow that day that sent her running in the first place.

My fear of failing as a father, of losing her because of it, caused me to miss out on so much. But now I am one, and seeing Willow standing here, holding our son, it finally feels like the nightmare is over.