Page 52 of Out of Time (Undaunted Courage #3)

THIRTY

BY THE TIME THEY EMERGED from the woods, Brad’s brain was on overload trying to integrate the new information Cara had relayed during the walk back with the facts he already knew.

Steven’s dire financial situation. Micah’s death.

The expensive jewelry Cara had seen. The flashlight he’d found, and Steven’s reference to the cave. The man’s late-night excursions.

All of those disparate pieces were somehow related, and it was up to him to figure out how.

On the plus side, he had far more to work with now than he’d had an hour ago.

The faint wail of a siren sounded in the distance as they walked across the lawn toward the cottage, and the back door of the main house opened.

He paused as Natalie stepped onto the galérie. The place would soon be swarming with emergency crews, and keeping her in the dark any longer than necessary would be cruel.

“Why don’t you go on to the cottage and chill while I talk to Natalie?”

Cara’s brow puckered as she looked toward the house. “No. I’ll go with you.”

“This isn’t going to be easy, and you’ve been through enough today.”

“I have to be there when you tell her, Brad. We’ve grown close during my stay, and she’s about to get the shock of her life. I want her to know she’s not alone.”

Throat constricting, he squeezed the hand of the remarkable woman beside him who never seemed to put herself first. “Okay. We’ll do this together.”

She held on tight to his fingers as they headed for the galérie.

The older woman remained in the shadows under the overhang as they approached, cane gripped in one hand, fingers of the other wrapped around the railing.

She watched them as they ascended the steps, eyes sad, complexion pale.

“Natalie, why don’t we go inside for a few minutes and talk?” Brad motioned toward the back door.

“Steven’s dead, isn’t he?” Her tone was flat. Resigned.

Brad sucked in a breath as Cara stiffened beside him.

How could she know that?

But sometimes people sensed when someone they loved was gone.

And since she’d intuited the truth, there was no point in sugarcoating it.

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

Her features crumpled.

Cara tugged her hand free of his and crossed to the older woman. Pulled her into a hug.

Natalie clung to her, lashes spiky with moisture. “I knew there was something wrong once I realized it was Steven sneaking around at night. I had a feeling it would all come to a bad end.” A quiver ran through her words.

“Let’s go inside. I’ll make us some tea.” Cara stroked the woman’s back, her own voice tear-laced.

After a few moments, Natalie eased away and turned toward the house.

Brad moved forward and took her arm in a steadying grip.

“Thank you.” She sent him a grateful look.

He guided her to the living room while Cara brewed tea for Natalie and poured a cup of coffee for herself and him, but he waited until she joined them before launching into his story.

Both women listened without speaking as he told them about his suspicions and the evidence he’d compiled linking Steven to Micah’s death, along with the information he’d gathered about the man’s finances.

When he got to the part about today’s cliffside drama, Natalie’s complexion lost what little color remained.

“You mean Steven was going to push you over the edge?” Shock rose off her in waves as she turned to Cara and clasped her hand.

“But he didn’t. Once Brad showed up, I knew I’d be fine.”

“Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry.” Natalie touched Cara’s cheek, distress etching deep brackets beside her mouth.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. Steven fooled everyone.”

“And poor Micah...” She pulled a tissue from her pocket. Dabbed at her lashes. “This is an even more tragic story than Marie’s.”

“And we don’t know all of it yet.” Brad rejoined the conversation. “Natalie, do you have any idea why Steven would have such a valuable piece of jewelry in his possession?”

“No. And if his financial problems were as severe as your research suggests, where would he have gotten the money for such a purchase?”

Excellent question.

Perhaps the guestroom would hold some clues.

“Would you mind if I go through his room?”

“Not at all. It’s down the hall, first door on the left.”

He glanced at Cara. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Natalie and I will finish our tea.”

He left the two women in the living room and strode down the hall to Steven’s bedroom, pausing to place a quick but important call en route.

His subsequent thorough search yielded pay dirt.

A headlamp like miners used. Hand-drawn maps of what appeared to be cave passages. An inventory of items, and a letter from Steven’s father. A soiled bag full of stunning antique jewelry. And a dirty, wrapped parcel that must contain the paintings referenced on the inventory.

It didn’t take a genius to do the math.

Steven had intended to sell his grandfather’s World War II contraband on the black market to fix his financial problems.

It was possible, of course, that he’d never intended to kill anyone.

But somewhere along the way, when his plan had been put in jeopardy, he’d taken the huge leap from black market dealer of stolen goods to murderer.

A leap only someone without the merest shred of a conscience could have made.

Meaning it was impossible to dredge up the tiniest scrap of empathy for the man.

Brad took the bag of jewels, the inventory, and the letter back to the living room.

“Did you find any answers?” Natalie wadded the tissue tighter in her hand as he entered.

“Yes.” He gave them a recap of his search, then handed Natalie the letter and inventory.

As she scanned it, he opened the bag of jewels and spread them on the coffee table.

Cara gaped at the glittering array. “Those must be worth a fortune.”

“Indeed—and they must be returned to the rightful owner. The paintings too, just as my uncle directed.” Natalie passed the letter and inventory back. “Can you make that happen, Brad?”

“Yes. I’ll contact the FBI Art Crime Team. They’ll know the correct procedure to follow.” The doorbell rang, and he rose. “I’ll get that.”

Thirty seconds later, he opened the door to find Father Johnson on the other side.

The priest from the historic church where locals had worshipped for almost two centuries must have dropped everything and driven faster than was prudent after their phone chat.

“Thank you for coming so fast, Father.” He stepped back and ushered the man in. “Like I told you on the phone, I thought it would comfort Natalie to speak with you.”

“I’m always happy to tend the flock, and Natalie’s been a faithful parishioner for decades. Thank you for thinking of calling me.”

Brad led him into the living room.

“Natalie, you have a visitor.”

The older woman shifted sideways on the couch. “Father Johnson!” She started to stand.

“Don’t get up.” He waved her back.

Cara rose from beside Natalie. “Why don’t you take my seat? I’d like to go freshen up.”

“I’ll walk back to the cottage with you.” Brad waited for her in the doorway. “Natalie, I’ll stop by again before I leave. And I’ll be back later with dinner for you and Cara and me. Father, you’re welcome to join us.”

“Thank you, but I have a sick call later this afternoon.” He sat beside Natalie.

Cara slipped into the hall and Brad fell in beside her, the murmur of conversation following them until they exited through the back door.

“Did you call the priest?” Cara looked up at him as they crossed the galérie and descended the steps.

“Yes.”

“That was kind of you. As was the offer to provide dinner.”

He took her hand. “I hope you don’t mind one more deferral of our date, but I didn’t think Natalie should be alone this evening. I know it won’t be much of a date, and certainly nothing like the one I had planned. I’m sorry if—”

“Brad.” She stopped. Tightened her grip on his fingers.

“Don’t apologize. Our dinner for two can wait.

There’s a more pressing need here tonight.

If you hadn’t suggested this, I would have.

” She smiled up at him, the warmth in her gaze seeping deep into his heart.

“No fancy restaurant date would have impressed me half as much as your thoughtfulness and compassion.”

“And here I was afraid you might be upset.”

“Then you have a lot to learn about me.”

“And I’ll enjoy every minute of it.” They continued to the cottage, stopping by her front door. “I promise I’ll make up for tonight. We will have a real dinner date. One to remember.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Until then, why don’t we go inside where it’s more private and I’ll give you a preview of dessert?”

Without a word, she dug out her key, inserted it into the lock, and opened the door.

He followed her in, closed it behind him, and held out his hand.

When she placed hers inside his, he drew her toward him.

She came without protest, the soft curve of her mouth an invitation that was impossible to resist.

Never breaking eye contact, he lifted his other hand. Traced the arch of her eyebrow. Brushed his knuckles over her cheek. Trailed his fingers across her lips.

At the catch in her breath, his pulse picked up and he slowly, very slowly, leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

This long-awaited moment was to be savored.

Her hands crept around his neck, and he wrapped her in his arms, pulling her close until no more than a whisper separated them and the world faded away.

How long the kiss went on, Brad had no idea. But at last, with a triumph of will over desire, he broke contact. Rested his forehead against hers as he came up for air.

“You know...” She cleared her throat when her voice rasped. “I never overindulge on d-dessert, but I could go for second helpings of that one anytime.”

At her husky comment, a chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. “I think that could be arranged. Write me in ink on your calendar for Sunday night—if you’re willing to come back from Cape in time for dinner.”

“I’ll camp out here all weekend if necessary. I am not missing our next date.”

“I like your enthusiasm.”