Ian cleared his throat and nodded toward the prostrate form at his feet. “We’d better see to him. He’ll be coming around soon.”
Before Mark could respond, they were interrupted. Belatedly drawn by the noise and commotion from the cottage, others had come to investigate. Sometime during the pandemonium that followed, Bailey realized that Ian was gone.
SHORTLY AFTERWARD, Owens was taken away. Almost excited at having a real live escaped convict in his jurisdiction, Chief Roy Peavy himself supervised the arrest, looking uncharacteristically commanding in his crumpled uniform. Like the others, he suspected that Owens had been involved in the “accident” the night before, and predicted that Owens’s prints would be found in the stolen truck.
“He didn’t even care if he killed anyone else trying to get to me,” Cara whispered with a shudder.
Mark slipped an arm around her shoulder. “He won’t bother you again, honey. No one will ever threaten you again.”
Her cheeks pink, Cara looked up at him. Bailey felt a lump form in her throat at the look in Cara’s eyes. She suspected that Cara had been concealing her true feelings for months, and was just now allowing them to show.
It appeared to Bailey that Mark’s patience and perseverance had finally paid off. She was delighted for both of them.
Mae had fussed over Bailey until Bailey had begged her to go rest. The latest excitement had been almost too much for Mae. She had finally allowed Elva to lead her away.
“Cara, you should put Casey to bed,” Bailey murmured, nodding toward the little girl who was so drained that she was swaying on her feet. “She’s wiped out.”
“I know. I just want to thank you again for what you did.”
Bailey smiled wearily and squeezed Cara’s outstretched hands. “I’m just glad it’s all over. You’re safe now.”
“Yes.” Cara looked dazed at the realization. “Safe,” she whispered.
“Take Casey on in,” Mark urged her. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
And then Mark and Bailey were alone.
“You obviously can’t stay here tonight,” he commented, nodding toward the broken front door.
“No. I’ll sleep in one of the rooms in the inn. I just want to collect some of my things.”
Mark touched the lump at the side of her head. “You’re sure you’re all right? I wish you’d let me take you to the doctor.”
“It’s just a lump, Mark. I’m getting used to them by now. Really, I appreciate your concern, but I don’t want to see another doctor tonight.”
He glanced around the trampled room. “What happened to, er, Bran?”
Bailey didn’t blink. “He had some things to do.”
“Would you like me to wait for you to get your things so I can walk you to the inn?”
“No, thank you. I may take a while to pack. You should go to Cara.”
“You don’t mind being out here alone now?”
“No.” She smiled weakly. “I don’t think anyone would dare pester me after all the commotion tonight. And if someone does become a nuisance, I swing a mean computer.”
He searched her face, hesitated a moment, then nodded. “All right. But if you’re not inside in an hour, I’m coming after you,” he warned.
She smiled. “Don’t push your luck, Winter.”
He returned her smile, and moved toward the doorway. He stopped halfway there and bent to pick something up. When he turned, he was holding the framed photograph m his hand.
Bailey stood very still as Mark looked at the photograph in silence for what seemed like a very long time. She couldn’t read his expression.
Finally, he lifted his head. “Here,” he said, holding it out to her. “You’d better put this somewhere safe. It looks… very old.”
She took it from him gratefully. “I will,” she whispered. “Thank you, Mark.”