The younger man pushed her out of the way and drew his own weapon, firing at the approaching target. The old man staggered and went down. “Larry the Loser? What the hell is he doing here?”

  She watched in horror as the younger man walked over and picked up the gun the old man had dropped. He pocketed it. Everything had happened so fast that she hadn’t even moved. Now, as she started to bolt for the door, he turned to point his gun at her.

  “Tell me you aren’t going to give me as much trouble as your grandmother did my uncle,” the man said.

  “Your uncle?” she managed to get out. This must be Robby, the guy old man had mentioned.

  “Bernie. He said to say hello. You realize he’s your grandfather, right?”

  Annabelle felt as if she’d fallen down a rabbit hole. “Yes, my grandfather.”

  “So, just give me whatever is left that she took from my uncle and I’m out of your hair, so to speak.”

  She groaned. “I just told that man I don’t know anything about any loot.”

  “You threw a lot of stuff away. You’re sure you didn’t come across some jewels? Rubies, pearls, diamonds, emeralds?”

  “My grandmother didn’t have anything like that. She didn’t wear jewelry, so she didn’t even have costume jewelry.”

  “Didn’t wear jewelry?” He scoffed at that. “My uncle weighed down that woman with diamond necklaces and earrings. On her birthday, he gave her an emerald ring that set him back a small fortune. You’re telling me she got rid of all of his gifts?”

  “Apparently. I suspect that’s how she lived as long as she did. I never saw any jewelry, ever.” She took a step closer to the door.

  He waved her back with the gun in his hand and a shake of his head. “We’re still talking here.”

  * * *

  MAKE A GRAND GESTURE. Dawson couldn’t get the phrase out of his head. What exactly did his mother expect him to do? Show up like he had the last time, with an engagement ring and a bouquet of roses—both things he couldn’t afford. That had been his grand gesture and look where it had gotten him.

  No, he was fresh out of grand gestures. But as he drove through the blizzard toward home, he couldn’t get Annabelle off his mind. He hadn’t liked leaving her in that house alone.

  He wasn’t concerned with ghosts. He didn’t think she would be, either. She was a strong woman and she was handling all of this remarkably well.

  Still, when he reached the turn-off to his house, he kept going in the direction of town. He told himself it wouldn’t hurt to drive by her place. It was late, since, after talking to his mother, he’d gone out to the barn and worked on his old tractor for a while. It had seemed a symbolic thing to do. Also the damned thing wasn’t running again.

  The snowstorm roared around him making it difficult to see where the road started and ended. He felt the need to drive faster, to get there quicker, and told himself he was letting his imagination run away with him. Maybe he was more spooked by what they’d found at the house than Annie was. Annie. He did much better when he thought of her as Annabelle.

  Through the falling, whirling snow, he caught a glimpse of the lights of Whitehorse. He told himself she’d be in bed, sound asleep, not having given a thought to him.

  But still, he sped up a little on the outskirts of town. It wasn’t far now.

  * * *

  ROB STUDIED HER. He thought she was telling the truth. He’d been hanging around long enough to know that this woman had been some kind of supermodel until she fell on hard times and came back here to sell her grandmother’s house. He’d even heard that her fancy sports car out in the yard was almost repossessed for lack of payment. Someone at the local bar had seen Dawson Rogers write the repo man a check. The car had already been hooked up to the wrecker. A few more minutes and it would have been gone.

  “Look, I need to call my uncle with this news. He won’t be happy. Normally he would tell me to torture you until you told me the truth. But the fact that you are his flesh and blood and Baby Doll’s granddaughter, I think he’ll cut you some slack. You have to be honest with me, though, okay?”

  Her mind had been racing. “You found the tunnel,” she said as she was putting things together. “I would imagine you already looked down there and in the garage. I don’t know of any more hiding places. I never knew any of this about my grandmother. It all came as a shock, including the dead man in the wall.”

  Rob was considering that when he heard a sound behind him. He spun, just not quickly enough. For a moment, he couldn’t figure out what had hit him. But glancing over his shoulder, he saw the sword blade sticking out of his back. When he looked at the old man he’d thought he killed, he saw that he was holding the shell of his cane.

  Rob lifted the gun to fire, but as he turned, it felt as if someone had cut his strings. Before he could get a shot off, he slumped to the floor at the old man’s feet. “Bernie isn’t going to like this, Larry,” he choked out before everything went black.

  * * *

  ANNABELLE WATCHED ALL of this play out before her eyes as if in a bad dream. It wasn’t until the younger man slumped to the floor that she found her feet.

  She made a run for the door, but the old man was faster than he looked even wounded. He grabbed a handful of hair and jerked her back. His rancid breath washed over her face as he pulled her close and whispered, “He might have believed you, but I’m betting you’re going to tell me where the loot is before this night is over because I could care less if you’re Bernie’s granddaughter.”

  She could hear the storm raging outside. The old man jerked her hair harder, making her cry out in pain. She could see that he was bleeding, but clearly the gunshot wasn’t going to kill him. Apparently he’d been listening to her conversation with Rob.

  “Let’s go in this room down here,” Larry said. “Your bedroom. I saw through the window that it’s about the only room with stuff still in it. Is that where the loot is?”

  “I told you just like I told the other man. There is no jewelry.”

  “Right,” the old man said, giving her a hard shove. “Maybe I can help jog your memory.”

  She stumbled into her room, banging against the closet door where her grandmother’s clothing still hung. Her mind raced to think if there was something in here that she could use for a weapon. She spotted her hammer on the dresser.

  Larry went to the closet. Keeping one eye on her, he began to tear Frannie’s clothes from their hangers. One gawdy sweatshirt after another hit the floor.

  Annabelle inched a little closer to the dresser and the hammer sitting on top. Larry saw her out of the corner of his eye and lunged at her, throwing her across the bed. He smacked her across the face, holding her down as he reached to grab the cord on the blinds. She tried to kick him in the groin only to have him slap her harder.

  The cord snapped off and he roughly rolled her onto her face on the bed and began to tie her hands together behind her back.

  “You’re hurting me,” she cried out.

  “I’ve only just begun. You try anything and I’ll kill you because, according to you, you know nothing, right? I can hog-tie you and I will if you move again.”

  She rolled to her side and watched him as he went back to the closet. He pulled down boxes of old shoes, throwing them onto the growing pile until the closet was empty.

  He was breathing hard when he came back over to where she lay. “Okay, girlie, now we’re going to get down to business.” He pulled a knife from a scabbard under his pants leg. She tried to recoil, but he grabbed her hair again as he laid the edge of the blade against her cheek. “You were your grandmother’s favorite, according to the woman across the street who I visited for a while recently. These little old ladies are so helpful. If Frannie confided in anyone, it would have been you. Tell me where it is!”

  * * *

  DAWSON SAW THE lights on Annie’s bedroom and the living room the moment he pulled up. He couldn’t explain what had him so afraid. Just a bad feeling. He rushed up to the house and pounded on the door. She would think he was crazy. Think he was butting into her life. Again. But he didn’t care. He had to see her. Had to see if she was all right.

  The light in the bedroom went out.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” he said as he pounded harder. “Annie, you might as well open up, because I’m not going anywhere until you do!” he yelled.

  The light came back on in the bedroom. A few minutes later, the door opened a crack.

  Annabelle’s pale face peered out. “What do you want?” she demanded, her voice cracking.

  He noticed there was a red mark on the side of her face. Had she been asleep?

  “You need to leave.” Her blue eyes seemed to plead with him. “Please.”

  “I just had to be sure you were all right. I know it sounds crazy but... Could I come in for a moment?”

  She shook her head. “No. Now, please go.” She began to close the door.

  As she was closing the door, his bad feeling was even stronger, now that he’d seen her. Before she could get the door all the way shut and locked, he slammed his hand into it, forcing her back so he could enter.

  Bursting into the empty living room, he shoved to the side. As he turned, he found some old man holding a gun to Annie’s temple.

  “Close the door,” the old man ordered. “Lock it. Play hero and she dies.”

  Off to the side, he could see a body with a sword sticking out of it. His throat constricted. He’d been right about Annie being in trouble. But now he might have made it worse.

  * * *

  ANNABELLE LET OUT a cry as the man jabbed the gun against her temple and twisted her arm behind her as he dragged her to him. He was much stronger and quicker than he looked.

  “Close the door,” Larry ordered. “Now!”

  Dawson did as the man asked. “What’s going on?” He sounded so calm.

  “He thinks my grandmother had the jewels from the heist and that I know where they are,” she said, her voice breaking. If only Dawson had just left like she’d asked him. She couldn’t bear the thought that he was going to die because of her.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Dawson snapped. “She didn’t even know about the heist or her grandmother’s relationship with Bernie McDougal.”

  “Or about my brother being murdered and walled up in her grandmother’s house?” the old man said.

  “I was the one who wanted to know what was behind that wall. Let her go. She doesn’t know anything.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. But unless you want to see her die, you’ll do exactly what I say.” Larry motioned with the gun for Dawson to go down the hall toward her bedroom.

  She didn’t believe for a moment that he would let them go when he didn’t find anything. Or even if he did.

  Dawson was ahead of them as they started toward the bedroom. She feared what would happen once they reached there. Larry still had her arm pulled behind her, but the gun was no longer to her head. She knew it was risky, but she saw no other way. “Dawson!” she called and spun around, even though it hurt her arm.

  She kicked Larry as hard as she could in his private parts. As she did, she grabbed the gun. The old man doubled over, but his grip on the gun was still too strong for her to wrestle it from him. She feared he would get off a shot at Dawson before she could. From behind her, she heard the sound of Dawson’s boots on the old hardwood floor as he rushed toward them. As he did, he pulled the sword from Robby’s body.

  He drove the blade into the man’s side, forcing him back. Larry’s grip on the gun gave. She jerked it from his hand as he stumbled back and dropped to the floor.

  Dawson took the gun from her and held it on the man. It had all happened so fast. She felt dizzy, fear still coursing through her even with a sense of relief. Was it really over? Or would there be others who would come looking for the loot?

  Trembling, she listened to Dawson make the call to the sheriff. Then he pulled her into his arms as they stood over the old man until they heard the sound of sirens. Moments later, deputies were streaming through the front door.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Annabelle didn’t know how long she’d been asleep when she felt something warm and wet touch her cheek. Her eyes flew open. She jerked back, a laugh escaping her lips as Dawson’s puppy gave her another kiss.

  “Sadie, no,” he cried as he rushed into the room. “She has been wanting to come see you for hours. I thought I’d closed the door all the way after I checked on you earlier. How are you?”

  “Good, thanks to you.”

  “Well, when you’re ready, I made you something special for breakfast.” With that, he called the puppy, who scampered out and the door closed.

  Annabelle looked around for her clothes and groaned when she realized that last night she’d thrown on one of her grandmother’s sweatshirts and her jeans. She pulled on the sweatshirt, thinking about her grandmother. Was she really like Frannie? Her grandmother had been a survivor. Annabelle guessed she could say that about herself too.

  “Something smells good,” she said as she walked into Dawson’s kitchen.

  “I thought you might be hungry. You slept a long time. It’s almost noon.”

  She couldn’t believe it. Then again, last night she remembered his arm around her all the way out to his house. He’d helped her inside and into the bed. She remembered trying to thank him, but he’d already closed the door. The next thing she knew, she was waking to Sadie’s kisses.

  “You saved my life last night,” she said, her voice breaking. “If you hadn’t come back to look in on me...”

  “For once my instincts were right,” he said and turned back to dishing up the Mexican quiche he’d made.

  The smell of it brought back other memories of the two of them. Dawson had always been a great cook. There wasn’t anything the man couldn’t do.

  “Your instincts weren’t wrong thirteen years ago,” she said as he put a slice in front of her along with a bowl of fresh fruit. “I wanted so badly to marry you. The ring, the roses...” Her voice broke again. “But I couldn’t.”

  He nodded, his brown eyes serious. “I know. There were things you had to do. I was incredibly selfish asking you to give up your dream.”

  “I’m not going back to modeling. I know you said you’re seeing Amy now, but—”

  “Annie, you can’t make a decision like that so soon after everything that’s happened.”

  “I’m not going to change my mind. Also, I’m going to give Amy Baker a run for her money. I want you back, Dawson.”

  He shook his head. “Annie.”

  “My life was so up in the air the night we made love. But I’m perfectly clear on what I want now. I love you. I’ll wait for you. I’ll talk to Mary Sue about keeping the house and I think I can get a job down at the grocery store. If not there, then—”

  He reached across the breakfast bar and took her face in his big hands. Bending, he kissed her. She forgot all about the quiche. All about everything except being in this man’s arms again. She kissed him back as he swept her up and carried her to his bedroom.

  They made love slowly until neither of them could stand it any longer. And then they let the chemistry burn between them in a fire that Annabelle knew would last the rest of their lives.

  Later, lying naked in his arms, she looked up at him. He was her Montanan and she was finally home.

  * * *

  “WHEN I SAID maybe you needed a grand gesture,” Willie cried when they came in the kitchen door, “I didn’t mean almost getting yourself killed.” She rushed to her son, cupping his face in her hands and just looking at him, as if too thankful to speak.

  “But I got the girl,” he said and smiled.

  “Oh, you boys are going to be the death of me,” Willie said and stepped to Annabelle and hugged her tightly. “You’re staying.”

  She nodded. “I’m not going anywhere.” Dawson put his arm around her.

  Willie smiled at them. “I’m so glad the two of you are all right.”

  “The nightmare is over,” Dawson said.

  “I wish that were true. It won’t be over until the jewels from the heist turn up,” Annabelle said. “We can’t even be sure that my grandmother had them. Obviously, my grandfather still believes she does and so do his...associates. He believes she stole them when she took off without a word and disappeared. He’s been looking for her and the loot for more than fifty years. I doubt he will stop now.”

  Willie shook her head, as if in wonder, and Annabelle realized she was staring at her ugly sweatshirt. “It was my grandmother’s. She has a closet full of them.”

  “I bet she does,” the older woman said. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I noticed you were wearing a clown one the other day. What is this one?”

  “A unicorn,” Annie said with a groan.

  “May I?” Willie asked as she began to pry at one of the green stones that made up the ground the unicorn was standing on. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen an emerald, but I’d swear this is one.”

  “What?” Dawson and Annie said in unison.

  Willie handed the stone to her son. “I think we’ve found what happened to the missing jewels. Your grandmother knew there would be others coming to find them, so she hid them in broad daylight.”

  Dawson looked at Annie. “I think she’s right. You say there are a dozen of these in her closet?”

  Annabelle nodded in disbelief. “We need to call the sheriff.”

  * * *

  “ARE YOU SURE you want to keep the house?” Dawson asked as he finished setting up the last of the furniture in the spare bedroom. Fortunately, they’d been able to retrieve a lot of it from the charity shop, assuring them it would only be temporary.