TUCKER CAHILL SLOWED his pickup as he drove through Gilt Edge. He’d known it would be emotional, returning after all these years. He’d never doubted he would return—he just hadn’t expected it to take nineteen years. All that time, he’d been waiting like a man on death row, knowing how it would eventually end.
Still, he was filled with a crush of emotion. Home. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it, how much he’d missed his family, how much he’d missed his life in Montana. He’d been waiting for this day, dreading it and, at the same time, anxious to return at least once more.
As he pulled into a parking place in front of the sheriff’s department, he saw a pregnant woman come out followed by an old man with long gray hair and beard. His breath caught. Not sure if he was more shocked to see how his father had aged—or how pregnant and grown-up his little sister, Lillie, was now.
He couldn’t believe it as he watched Lillie awkwardly climb into an SUV, the old man going around to the passenger side. He felt his heart swell at the sight of them. Lillie had been nine when he’d left. But he could never forget a face that adorable. Was that really his father? He couldn’t believe it. When had Ely Cahill become an old mountain man?
He wanted to call out to them but stopped himself. As much as he couldn’t wait to see them, there was something he had to take care of first. Tears burned his eyes as he watched Lillie drive their father away. It appeared he was about to be an uncle. Over the years while he was hiding out, he’d made a point of following what news he could from Gilt Edge. He’d missed so much with his family.
He swallowed the lump in his throat as he opened his pickup door and stepped out. The good news was that his brother Flint was sheriff. That, he hoped, would make it easier to do what he had to do. But facing Flint after all this time away... He knew he owed his family an explanation, but Flint more than the rest. He and his brother had been so close—until his senior year.
He braced himself as he pulled open the door to the sheriff’s department and stepped in. He’d let everyone down nineteen years ago, Flint especially. He doubted his brother would have forgotten—or forgiven him.
But that was the least of it, Flint would soon learn.
* * *
AFTER HIS SISTER LEFT, Flint moved the battered cardboard box to the corner of his desk. He’d just pulled out his pocketknife to cut through the tape when his intercom buzzed.
“There’s a man here to see you,” the dispatcher said. He could hear the hesitation in her voice. “He says he’s your brother?” His family members never had the dispatcher announce them. They just came on back to his office. “Your brother Tucker?”
Flint froze for a moment. Hands shaking, he laid down his pocketknife as relief surged through him. Tucker was alive and back in Gilt Edge? He had to clear his throat before he said, “Send him in.”
He told himself he wasn’t prepared for this and yet it was something he’d dreamed of all these years. He stepped around to the front of his desk, half-afraid of what to expect. A lot could have happened to his brother in nineteen years. The big question, though, was why come back now?
As a broad-shouldered cowboy filled his office doorway, Flint blinked. He’d been expecting the worst.
Instead, Tucker looked great. Still undeniably handsome with his thick dark hair and gray eyes like the rest of the Cahills, Tucker had filled out from the teenager who’d left home. Wherever he’d been, he’d apparently fared well. He appeared to have been doing a lot of physical labor because he was buff and tanned.
Flint was overwhelmed by both love and regret as he looked at Tuck, and furious with him for making him worry all these years.
“Hello, Flint,” Tucker said, his voice deeper than Flint remembered.
He couldn’t speak for a moment, afraid of what would come out of his mouth. The last thing he wanted to do was drive his brother away again. He wanted to hug him and slug him at the same time.
Instead, voice breaking, he said, “Tuck. It’s so damned good to see you,” and closed the distance between them to pull his older brother into a bear hug.
* * *
TUCKER HUGGED FLINT, fighting tears. It had been so long. Too long. His heart broke at the thought of the lost years. But Flint looked good, taller than Tucker remembered, broader shouldered, too.
“When did you get so handsome?” Tucker said as he pulled back, his eyes still burning with tears. It surprised him that they were both about the same height. Like him, Flint had filled out. With their dark hair and gray eyes, they could almost pass for twins.
The sheriff laughed. “You know darned well that you’re the prettiest of the bunch of us.”
Tucker laughed, too, at the old joke. It felt good. Just like it felt good to be with family again. “Looks like you’ve done all right for yourself.”
Flint sobered. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
“Like Dad used to say, I’m like a bad penny. I’m bound to turn up. How is the old man? Was that him I saw leaving with Lillie?”
“You didn’t talk to them?” Flint sounded both surprised and concerned.
“I wanted to see you first.” Tucker smiled as Flint laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently before letting go.
“You know how he was after Mom died. Now he spends almost all of his time up in the mountains panning gold and trapping. He had a heart attack a while back, but it hasn’t slowed him down. There’s no talking any sense into him.”
“Never was.” Tucker nodded as a silence fell between them. He and Flint had once been so close. Regret filled him as Flint studied him for a long moment before he stepped back and motioned him toward a chair in his office.
Flint closed the door and settled into his chair behind his desk. Tucker dragged up one of the office chairs.
“I wondered if you wouldn’t be turning up since Lillie brought in a package addressed to you when she came to pick up Dad. He often spends a night in my jail when he’s in town. Drunk and disorderly.”
Tucker didn’t react to that. He was looking at the battered brown box sitting on Flint’s desk. “A package?” His voice broke. No one could have known he was coming back here unless...
Flint’s eyes narrowed as if he heard the fear in his brother’s voice. “I thought maybe you’d sent it on ahead of you for some reason.”
Tucker shook his head. “Apparently someone was expecting me,” he said, trying to make light of it when the mere sight of the box made him sick inside.
“Well, I’m just glad you’re back,” his brother said. “Whatever it was that sent you hightailing it out of here... We’ll deal with it as a family. I only wish it hadn’t taken you so long to return.”
“I’m sure you have a lot of questions.”
“You think?” Flint sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I knew something was going on with you your senior year.”
Tucker nodded, his gaze shifting to the box sitting on his brother’s desk. He swallowed. “It wasn’t something I could talk about back then.”
“And now?” Flint’s phone rang. He buzzed the dispatcher to hold all his calls unless they were urgent. “I’m sorry. The phone’s been ringing off the hook. You probably haven’t heard. One of the locals found skeletal remains in Miner’s Creek.”
“Actually, I did hear. That’s—”
Flint’s phone rang again. He groaned as he picked up, listened and rose from his desk. “That was the coroner. I have to run next door. Not sure how long it’s going to take. Where are you staying?”
“I just got in.”
“You’re welcome to stay with me and my wife, Maggie. Or you can always go out to the ranch. I think your room is as you left it. Hawk and Cyrus have been busy running the ranch. No time to redecorate even if they had an inclination to do so.”
Tucker nodded. “I’m looking forward to seeing the place—and the rest of the family. So you’re married. Congratulations.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry I have to run.” Flint came around his desk to put a hand on Tucker’s shoulder again. “I’m glad you’re back. I hope it’s to stay.” He looked worried. Not half as much as he was going to be, Tucker thought.
“I’ll be sticking around.”
Flint sighed. “Then we’ll talk soon. You have a lot to catch up on.”
As his brother went out the door, Tucker rose and stepped to the desk and the box sitting there. Just as Flint had said, it was addressed to him. He didn’t recognize the handwriting—not that he figured he would. Picking up the pocketknife lying beside the box, he still hesitated, afraid of what was inside, but unable not to open it to find out.
He sliced the tape across the top and carefully turned back the flaps. A faintly moldy scent rose from the box along with the rustle of newsprint. For a moment, he didn’t see anything but wadded-up newspaper and what appeared to be pages from a magazine.
Hesitantly, he pushed some of the paper aside and blinked, unsure for an instant as to what he was seeing. With a startled gasp, he jerked back as though bitten by a rattlesnake. Heart pounding and sick with disgust, he reached in and removed the wadded-up paper until all that remained in the box was the tiny battered naked doll.
One dull dark eye stared up at him—the other eye missing from the weather-beaten toy. Shaking all over, his stomach heaving, he lurched around his brother’s desk to throw up in the trash.