Chapter One

Ben snapped awake with the sound of a gunshot echoing in his mind. He stared blindly into the dark room and quivered, his skin damp with cold sweat. Breaths came and went raggedly as he fought to quell the flood of emotions. Images flashed through his head as the dream slowly faded into the darkness. A spreading crimson stain stark on a grimy white t-shirt, strobing red and blue lights, the tire of his patrol car, the pavement, the station, a young boy with startling blue eyes. He swallowed hard and forced away the last dregs of the nightmare.

He sagged back to the mattress and covered his face with his hands. God, what had he done? Only the quiet sounds of the night and the gentle snores of his dog answered him. His body still trembled with the incredible surge of guilt. That boy was an orphan because of him. What was his name? Ben wondered. Luke McKindel. The name exploded in his mind and he groaned. He would never forget the name. How could he? He’d shot the boy’s father on a cold, rainy night in mid-September on the unforgiving streets of Seattle, just six days after the boy’s twelfth birthday.

His mind caught on the memory Captain Bill Granger leading the boy through the station. Bill had taken the boy to his office to wait while he addressed Ben and the other officers involved in the shooting. Ben hadn’t paid much attention to what Bill had said beyond the announcement that the kid was the son of the man who’d died. Ben stared through the office window and watched as the boy’s bright eyes flitted around Bill’s rustically-decorated office. He was tiny for a twelve-year-old, Ben had thought. Maybe four and a half feet tall, scrawny and pale. How could someone who looked so weak and frightened possibly survive in this world on his own? The boy had looked at Ben and for the briefest moment, they had locked gazes. Even now, years later, Ben wanted to wretch at the fear and uncertainty in those blue eyes.

It’s my fault, he thought again.

Knowing the bullet that had killed John McKindel had come from his gun was nothing compared to the guilt he felt over the boy’s sudden and terrifying change in fate.

Ben glanced at the obscenely perky red numbers of his bedside clock and flopped the spare pillow over his eyes. It was half past four in the morning. It was rather fitting, Ben thought, considering that four and a half years ago he’d killed a man. It didn’t seem to matter that John McKindel had pulled a gun on Ben’s fellow officers, that the man had tried to kill them. All that mattered was that Ben had killed him and, far worse, left the man’s twelve-year-old son an orphan.

With a grunt, Ben flipped back his blankets and pushed himself out of bed. His golden retriever didn’t even stir. He found his way into the kitchen of his rented house and opened the refrigerator. He reached blindly for the jug of water in the blinding light and fumbled with the cap. At last he tipped the bottle back and let the frigid liquid slide down his throat.

“This has gotta stop,” he muttered. He swallowed the rest of the water and closed the fridge. “That’s three times in a month.”

He wandered into the wide living room and flipped on the little lamp beside the couch. Despite himself, he smiled when he picked up the picture beneath it. His mother had taken it years ago, at a picnic just after his graduation. His good friend Aelissm Davis––who also happened to be Bill Granger’s favorite niece––was standing behind him, reaching up to give him rabbit ears and in his arms he held a laughing June Montana. The surprised smile on her face was one of his most cherished memories of that day.

There were other pictures of the three of them scattered around his house and he walked around, glancing from one to the next, allowing the fond memories to envelope him and chase away his nightmare. They’d been such an odd little group, with Ben being older than Aelissm by two years and June by three an being two grades ahead of them both. They’d had other friends, as a group and apart, but somehow they’d stuck together from elementary school. June and Aeli had already been friends for a few years, introduced by June’s step-father and Aeli’s beloved Uncle Bill. If Ben recalled correctly, the two men had been in the army together and remained friends long after they’d chosen separate careers. And how, exactly, had Ben gotten roped into the mix?

Montana. Particularly, Northstar and Devyn, the birthplace of both Ben and Aelissm. They’d bonded instantly over tales of places they both knew and June had come along for the ride, naturally being interested in the state with which she shared a name. He remembered her as being a very inquisitive child and remembered with a laugh how that curiosity had developed into a startling insight. The bond of friendship that had begun with a coincidence had solidified after June’s first trip to Northstar.

“The Northstar Gang,” he murmured. “That’s what my mother used to call us.”

Like a breath of cool wind on a stagnant summer day, longing embraced him. He knew what he wanted, what he needed. A little over a month ago, he’d realized his nightmares were becoming more frequent, not less, and since then, he’d been claimed by a steadily growing anxiety and a desire to return home. He pictured that series of small valleys in the southwest corner of Montana and knew what he had to do. Staying here, in Western Washington, wasn’t an option anymore. He had to get away, before he lost the chance to escape once and for all from the dreams and the guilt. And June and Aeli were in Montana. He missed June, especially, and in the past week, since the second nightmare, he had been wanting to see her again. How long since he’d last seen her? Eight years. He really could have used her friendship in the past years. She’d’ve known what to say and do to help him past this mess he’d gotten himself into. He could have called her at any time, but he hadn’t, afraid that he’d find his own assessment of what he’d done reflected in her laughing blue eyes. To see condemnation in her gaze would have been more destructive than going without her guidance and kind words. Somewhere, deep beneath the layers of depression and self-loathing, Ben knew June would never think that way of him, but it was a risk he’d been unwilling to take. Now, he wondered if there was anything left but to chance losing one of the best friends he’d ever had.

He shook his head to dispell the morbid musings. Climbing back in bed, he closed his eyes, determined to finish the night in peace. Keeping June’s smiling face in his mind for reassurance, he spent the remainder of the small hours of the morning pondering his options. As dawn slowly lightened the world, the reality of his life began to edge into his mind, pushing his fond reveries to the back.

The depression that settled over him as soon as he rose for the morning was impossible to shake. He spent much of the day with a fake smile and a passably cheery disposition. He didn’t want to upset the customers he served at Donovan’s Bar and Grill with his pitiful existence. He only knew that as he stood there, balancing a heavy tray of steaming food on his hand, his heart yearned for something different, something more than this. He was wasting his life mired in guilt and nightmares. There had to be more out there for him, some way to get past this.

“Uh, excuse me, sir,” said the woman at the table he’d been headed towards. “But when you’re through with that, do you think you could get us some water? The busboy seems to have forgotten us.”

“Of course. Here’s your steak, ma’am.” He guided the plate to the empty table space in front of her with the grace and ease four years of waiting tables had wrought from him. He turned to her husband. Four years that should have been spent working his way up to detective, like Bill had once inspired him to do. “And for you, sir, lobster tail and unsalted French fries. Enjoy your meal and I’ll be right back with the water.”

As he glided into the kitchen, Ben wasn’t thinking about water. He was thinking about quitting his job and leaving Washington entirely. He grabbed a pitcher of ice water and ambled back out into the dining room of Donovan’s. Maybe he’d just walk up to the manager and give his two weeks’ notice. So what if it seemed rash and insane? The owner had thought the same three years ago when Ben had turned down a promotion to manager. To be honest, Ben hadn’t planned to stay at the restaurant a year, let alone four. He made his way to the table and poured the water, asked if the guests if they were enjoying their meal, and if they would like anything else. When they declined, he strode back into the kitchen, where he found the man who had taken the offered position of manager talking to one of the three cooks on duty. Frowning, Ben sauntered over and tapped his boss on the shoulder.

“Oh, Ben, what a pleasant surprise,” Joel said, a little startled but smiling like always. He excused himself from the cooks. “Sorry I haven’t had a chance to say hello yet tonight.”

“I understand. How was your vacation?”

“It was great. I’m sorry it’s over. But Julie and I took enough pictures that it’ll take us months to go through them all. So, my friend, how has life been treating you?”

“About the same as ever, but that doesn’t mean I like it,” he said.

Joel frowned. “That doesn’t sound good. What’s up?”

“I need a vacation.”

“Oh? About time, Ben. How long do you need?”

“Not that kind of vacation. I’m giving you my two weeks notice. I need to get out of Washington for a while, maybe for good.”

“It’s not something––”
“No, Joel, it has been great working for you, but I need to get away. I’m going home.”

“I thought you called Poulsbo home.”

Ben shook his head. “Montana is home.” He looked away, then back. “I’d really like to leave as soon as possible, but I’ll stay as long as two weeks. If you can find someone sooner…”

“You’ve done a lot for me over the years, Ben, and I think I can do you this favor. I actually got an application yesterday that I wanted your opinion on. But… we can talk about that after your shift is over.” Joel narrowed his eyes and studied him quizzically. “I’ve always wondered why you turned this job down.”

Ben shrugged. “Working in a restaurant was never my idea of a dream job. And I never planned to stay at it as long as I have.”

“Until today, I’d never pictured you as someone who would just up and decide to quit a job you’ve been at for four years.” Joel laid a friendly hand on his shoulder. “I’ve seen your file, Ben, and I know you were a cop and that you resigned for ‘personal reasons’. I know we aren’t exactly best friends, but I hope you consider me enough of a friend that I won’t offend you when I say that whatever’s been eating you up isn’t worth you wasting your life.”

“It probably isn’t,” Ben agreed. “But getting past it is easier said than done. I’m hoping that going back to Montana might help me put some perspective on the matter.”

“I hope so, too. How long do you have left on your shift?”

“Ten minutes.”

“Well, then finish up your last table and we’ll look at that application together before you go home tonight.”

Ben smiled his thanks and went back out to the table to find the couple chattering, though neither had eaten much. They asked for boxes and he complied. He took their payment for the check, then waited for them to leave. They’d left him a generous tip and he wondered if it wasn’t a sign that he’d made the right decision to go back to Montana. June would have laughed at him for the thought and called him superstitious. As he walked back into the kitchen, he wondered what she looked like now. He remembered her at seventeen, at her graduation––two years after his own. She’d been slightly taller than average, long-legged and, as the result of an adolescent growth spurt, slender enough to be called coltish. The age-old advice told him the daughter often followed the mother and Trisha Blue was a beautiful woman.

Joel dragged him off to the side and Ben distractedly agreed that the applicant looked promising. He barely heard Joel tell him that he’d need to stay around for a few days longer, to help train the girl. Taking off his apron and depositing his pad and pen with the rest, he left the restaurant. He was still thinking about June when he climbed into his truck for the short drive home, still wondering how she would react to seeing him again after eight years.

“June Montana,” he murmured. “Why am I thinking about you so much?”

There were other reasons to return to the place where he’d spent his early childhood. His sister Jane, older by six years, had moved back years ago, met and married a ranch-hand on the same ranch where they’d spent the best years of their young lives. Her daughter Becky, now fourteen, had been begging him to come see her. What had been stopping him from going?

He pulled in his driveway and shut his truck down. He sat there for a few moments, amazed that it hadn’t occurred to him sooner that he could just leave. Of course, there was still the chance that he wouldn’t be able to stay in Montana. What if he couldn’t find work? What if it wasn’t what he expected? So, he’d be smart and keep up on his rent and bills. Just in case.

The following day, Ben stopped by his landlady’s house to pay her his bi-weekly visit. And rent. She greeted him at the door with a wide, warm smile, dancing green eyes and a big hug. With flaming red hair––now nearly silver––and one of the sweetest dispositions Ben had ever encountered, Jeanie Miller had become a friend of his family’s when they’d first rented from her twenty-one years ago, after the move from Montana to Washington.

Waving her hand in a come-hither motion, she invited him in and closed the door. She ushered him briskly into the kitchen and promptly poured him a cup of coffee. Ben couldn’t help smiling. Mrs. Miller was a one-of-a-kind sweetheart who’d known him before the shooting and didn’t judge him one way or the other for what he’d done. To her, he was still the same old Ben Conner and, for that, he was more grateful than he could find words to express.

“So, Ben, what gossip do you have for me?” she asked as she stirred her coffee with a cinnamon stick.

“Now, Mrs. Miller, you know me better than that,” he replied, the corners of his mouth lifted. “I don’t gossip.”

Her emerald-colored eyes twinkled merrily. “Oh, yes. Deary me, how could I forget. What news do you have for me?”

“That’s better.” Ben chuckled and took a sip of his coffee. “I do have news, but I’ll tell you in a minute. How long’s it been since you talked to my folks?”

“Oh, about twenty minutes.”

“What did they have to say?”

“Sounds like they’re really planning to go back to Northstar.”

“Really.” Frowning thoughtfully, he let his gaze wander out the window of her brightly-adorned kitchen.

“Ben, you really shouldn’t keep yourself so apart from your parents. They love you.”

He sighed. “I know they do. It’s just difficult. After what my father said after the shooting….”

“He didn’t mean it then and he certainly doesn’t believe it now. The whole situation caught him off guard, is all. He knows you were just doing your job. What happened isn’t your fault, Ben.”

Ben hadn’t spoken to his father much since James Conner had called his part in the death of John McKindel a heinous act. It didn’t matter that his father had come over to apologize the next day. The damage was done and, in his current mindset, Ben had agreed too completely with James’ assessment. So, it wasn’t that he hadn’t forgiven his father for the comment. It was more that he didn’t concur with his father’s altered opinion and that had become a wall between them. The reason why he rarely spoke to his mother was a less complex. He’d simply gotten tired of her trying to cheer him up when it couldn’t be done. He hated the pain he caused her when she failed to ease his guilt and depression.

“I know it’s not my fault. I know I shouldn’t feel guilty. My heart won’t believe my brain. I don’t think it ever will unless I find out that kid is alive and okay.”

“Have you ever thought to search for him?”

Ben shook his head. “I asked Bill once, before I quit, if he knew where the boy would be sent. He wouldn’t tell me. I’m not sure he knew. So, my folks are talking about moving back. Never thought that would happen.”

Jeanie’s brows furrowed. She was obviously concerned for him, but took his unsubtle hint and let the matter go. “Well, Eleanor’s parents have both been dead over two years now. And James is retired. There’s nothing keeping them here, really. Except you.”

“And they’d rather be back home in Northstar, close to my sister and her family. I know.”

Mrs. Miller nodded. “Jane did come up as a reason why the wanted to go back. Becky’s fourteen now. And they’ve missed a lot of her life, being so far away.”

Ben wondered if his parents had finally given up on him. They should have gone back last year, after James retired, but he suspected they’d stayed in Poulsbo––a place James still resolutely hated––hoping to pry Ben out of his melancholy. He certainly didn’t blame them for wanting to leave and go home. Hell, wasn’t he planning to do the same thing? Maybe going home to Northstar was the smartest thing he could do for himself. June and Aelissm were there, his sister and her husband and their daughter Becky were there, and, if his parents really did pack it all up and move back, they’d be in Northstar, too. Going back was certainly starting to seem like returning to his roots and returning to who he’d been before the shooting.

“I’m going to be taking a vacation,” he said. “A long one.”

“Oh? Would you like me to watch Casey for you?”

“No. He’s coming with me. I gave my two weeks’ at Donovan’s yesterday.”

Jeanie straightened, her silver brows lifting. “I take it you’re not planning on coming back?”

“I honestly don’t know yet. But I don’t know how long I’m going to be gone and, let’s face it, Donovan’s was always only a temporary solution.”

“May I hazaard a guess as to where it is you’re going?”
“I don’t think you need to guess.”

“Northstar. What brought this on?”

“I’ve been having more nightmares lately. One woke me up at four-thirty yesterday morning. I was looking at some photos of my friends June and Aelissm––you might remember them.”

Mrs. Miller smiled fondly in remembrance. “I do. Sweet girls, the both of them.”

“Anyhow, I got to thinking about them and how much I miss them. And how much I could have used June’s advice these last few years. When I talked to Bill a few weeks ago, he mentioned that they’re both in Northstar. Maybe that’s what got me thinking about it in the first place.”

“With so many reasons to go home, I hope you find what you’re looking for,” Jeanie said, placing a soft, cool hand to his cheek. “You deserve happiness, Ben, whether you believe it or not. And you certainly aren’t going to find it with Angie Sullivan. I remember how you used to look at June. I see that same light in your eyes again now, just at the mention of her name. Go home and find peace, Ben. But, by god, you’d better keep in touch, young man!”

Laughing softly, he leaned down and kissed her cheek. “You bet I will.”

“What do you want me to do about your house?”

“I’ll keep it, for now. I’ll mail the checks for rent and the bills. Just in case.”

“Always the practical one,” she remarked. “But this time, I think it’s a waste. You won’t be coming back.”

Four years ago, JP had been certain his prize was lost when Adam Winters strolled through the doors of the Bedspread Inn to confront Aelissm Davis and Patrick O’Neil. He’d spent a tense hour standing in the back corner of the dining room as the events that had brought Winters to Montana in the first place came to a conclusion, waiting to be singled out. Alternately shaking his head at Winters’ spineless forfeit and praying the man would continue to ignore him, JP had finally found the opportunity to escape the crowded dining room. He’d spent the rest of the night in a cold sweat, fighting to maintain control. He couldn’t let his weaker side take over. If he did, he’d lay down and let his chance to claim his woman roll right past him, like he had before. He’d ruined it once and he was damned if he was going to let that happen again. Still, unless or until the threat of discovery was gone, it was probably best if he laid low because, right then, there had been too many variables. So, he’d given in, let his other half take the reins.

In the intervening years, he’d slowly come to realize there was no danger to him. Adam Winters had either forgotten about the man he’d spent so many nights drinking with in the lounge of the Paradise Motel in Devyn or had kept his promise and decided not to broach the subject with either Aelissm Davis––Aelissm O’Neil, he corrected––or her best friend, June Montana. His deluded companion had since moved to Bozeman, married the young woman who’d diverted his attention from Aelissm and, if the rumors he’d heard were true, they’d recently added a little girl to their family. Perhaps things hadn’t turned out so badly for Adam Winters. A wife and daughter were nothing to complain about, certainly. But JP still thought he’d taken the coward’s way out. He’d settled for Amber instead of fighting for Aelissm.

That was something JP refused to do. He wanted June Montana and no one was going to stop him from getting her. Besides, one thing he’d learned in the last few years was that there was no Amber for him. June was the only woman who could fill the gaping hole in his heart. For that all too brief time years ago, she had. He smiled at her as she brushed past on the way to the Ramshorn kitchen, shivering a little inside when her lips curved in response. Taking another sip of his coffee, he watched her saunter out of sight around the corner into the kitchen. Damn, she was beautiful. Tall, graceful, with an athletically slender build and elegant curves. And oblivious of her appeal.

Beside him, Autsin Maguire, a fellow Northstar ranch hand, shook his head and smiled. “If only I were a younger man,” he said.

His son, Shane, lifted his brows in amusement. “Good thing you aren’t. She’s my best friend’s mom!”

“So?”
“Luke’ll pulverize me next time we play football if I don’t defend her honor from my lecherous old father.”

The other ranch hands sitting at the counter with them chuckled in amusement. Austin’s eyes glittered with laughter.

It wasn’t long before his companions went back to their meals. It was late morning, certainly later than any of them usually ate breakfast, but they’d been up since before sunrise, moving the Royal R herd up to the summer allotments. Jessie Robinson had had oatmeal ready for them, but that wouldn’t get them through the day. So, during the break before they headed down into the valley to move cows for the Hammonds, they’d decided to get something a little more filling. JP had suggested the Ramshorn, knowing June was working this morning. No one thought anything of it, since the Ramshorn was also closer to the Royal R than the Bedspread Inn.

JP watched June glide through the dining room to check on her customers from the corner of his vision.

When she’d seen to everyone––there were only three other tables besides the ranch hands––she settled behind the thick log bar and again picked up her school work. Frowning, he turned his attention more fully toward her. She was a dedicated, talented teacher. Even Shane, who hated science, loved her classes. He said she made it both fun and easy to learn. The same qualities that made her such a great educator also made her difficult to get close to. JP tried not to sneer. She put her job and her students before all else, including––or especially––the men she dated. He could attest to that all too well. She’d told him as much, once. The memory still grated and it took more effor than it should have to force his emotions back under the surface. There would be a reckoning for that soon enough.

Shaking his head, he corrected himself. There was one person who came before even teaching in June’s life.

Her foster son. Luke.

Luke McKindel, as he’d been back then, was now Luke Montana and had grown from a short, skinny, scared-of-his-own-shadow pre-teen to a tall, strong and charismatic sixteen-year-old with far too much confidence for JP’s liking. Everything else he had––June’s undivided devotion, an athletic ability that made JP want to puke and a sharp intelligence––was topped off with hair the color of late afternoon sunlight, laughing blue eyes and a boyishly-handsome face. He had it all. And he deserved none of it. Not after he’d stolen June from JP.

It wasn’t June’s fault. June was only doing what came naturally to her. It was the boy who had turned her from him. He deserved to suffer for it.

The fury that boiled at thought of him was nearly impossible to contain. JP’s fingers clenched around his coffee mug, the knuckles painfully white, as mindless rage consumed him. Only by momentarily allowing that other side flicker to the front was he able to swallow his hatred. As soon as his pulse slowed and his grip on the mug loosened, JP subverted the weaker part of him, effectively wrapping its fragile nature in a cacoon of sweet vengreance. His gentler half was pained by June’s rejection and her declaration of loyalties, but couldn’t find the strength to right the wrongs. Just like he couldn’t face the trauma of his brother’s horrible suicide after a nasty divorce. That’s why JP had taken matters into his own hands then and why he was so firmly in control again now. JP hadn’t balked at the splatter of blood and brain matter on the walls of his brother’s bedroom, nor gagged at the gaping hole in his beloved sibling’s skull. He wouldn’t back down if a little more blood needed to be spilled to get his satisfaction, either.

Smirking privately to himself, he lifted the coffee mug to his lips and sipped. He couldn’t let his anger get the best of him or he’d never win. He’d end up chasing a hopeless dream forever if he couldn’t maintain his focus.

“Well, c’mon boys. It’s time we’re getting down the the Hammond spread,” Austin said. “June, thanks for the coffee!”

She poked her head out and smiled. “You’re welcome. Don’t work too hard today, boys.”

“Never,” JP replied with a laugh.