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  BLOOD BROTHERS

   

  Diana Rittenhouse mystery 2/5

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  Kate Merrill

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

   

  BLOOD BROTHERS

   

  COPYRIGHT @ 2014 by Kathleen E. Merrill

   

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Merlin-Janus Studio, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

   

  Cover art: Kate Merrill

  Merlin-Janus Studio, Inc.          

  Mooresville, NC

   

  Publishing History

  First Edition 2014

  Print ISBN 978-0692333457

   

  Published in the United States of America

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  For

  Herbert James Merrill

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

               

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

               

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  Prologue…

   

   

  The moment Diana turned into the familiar lane, gravel crunching under her tires, her stomach coiled like a frightened snake. The fear was visceral, unexpected, and the sky so very blue.

                She gripped the steering wheel to silence the thunder clapping in her chest. When she lifted her eyes to the arching canopy of green leaves, she saw only an endless claustrophobia of dappled shade. Last time she traveled this lane, she was lying in an ambulance speeding in the opposite direction. She was flat on her back, in a blur of pain. A bullet hole burned in her shoulder, while she choked on the sensation of water closing over her head.

                She took a deep breath to kill the memory, but the loamy odor of damp summer did nothing to erase the horror. It seemed her recovery had taken an eternity, but in reality, the shooting incident occurred only months ago, and by now her wound was fully healed. Her mind, however, was still convalescing.

                Diana snorted in disgust. Someone should list her in the Guinness Book of World Records: most blunders by one woman in any given lifetime. Her past unraveled like a shredded quilt of

  bright patches and darks---first marriage, then divorce---children, then an empty nest--- professional success, then failure. It seemed her life had trudged along punctuated by short sprints of joy and tragedy, and although most mortals shared similar peaks and valleys, they managed to string those extremes out over a decent interval of years.

                Perhaps Diana’s headlong flight was to blame, the vanity of believing she could start fresh in North Carolina? Maybe the move had attracted evil Fates to her doorstep, like flies to carrion?  The move certainly initiated a tailspin, propelling her helplessly into the new millennium.

                Ashes to ashes. Last year Diana’s former car exploded in flames. The bomb was intended for her, but instead it injured the special new man into her life. Matthew was the sweet southern sunshine to her cold northern winter, and he was waiting at the end of this road.

                Rounding the next curve, her emotions ran wild and her heart stopped cold. When she left the forest, the blinding noonday sun caused shimmering white heat to rise from Jedidiah Porter’s fallow fields, while Lake Norman lay brilliant and blue on all three sides of the triangle bounding the old estate.

                Diana blinked and caught her breath. It all began right here…the murder and the madness. High on a promontory, the ramshackle Porter homestead canted in dark silhouette and the pecan trees swayed listlessly in a benign breeze. A familiar red and white Ford pickup was parked off the dusty clay driveway, under the shade of an ancient willow oak, and a man lounged idly against its fender. He stood with one boot heel hooked back on the running board, while his hand stroked the enormous black head of the dog that brought them together.

                Even at that distance, in spite of the bill of a straw fishing cap shadowing his face, Diana felt his warm eyes seeking hers. The lure was as strong as trouble itself, but did she want it?

                You bet.

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   
<
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  ONE

   

   

                Lay the past to rest…

   

                The sun burning down on Diana’s skin felt cold as she closed the distance between them. Ursie, the Doberman, broke away from Matthew and bounded towards her. The dog’s lips were pulled back in a vicious snarl, teeth and fangs glinting white, but by now she know this was just Ursie’s way of smiling. She dropped to her knees and opened her arms as one hundred pounds of dog flesh toppled her onto her backside.

                “Hey, girl!” Diana gasped as Ursie gave her a wet, slobbery kiss. “God, I missed you!”

                Matthew’s boots sent little puffs of red dust into the air as he trotted to where Diana struggled like a turtle on its back. He coaxed Ursie off, and with one great yank, she was on her feet.

                “Hey, lady, I’m glad you missed my dog, but did you miss me?”

                Matthew held her at arm’s length, his deep brown eyes smiling and his sensuous mouth curved in a grin. His big hands were hot on her bare arms, melting away the chill, replacing it with a blush of intense shyness.

                Diana’s mind was a riot of conflicting emotions. During those months of healing, she had avoided Matthew. The intense feelings he awakened were frightening, too much to manage along with the mending of her body.

                Matthew, never a man to waste words, watched her in silence. “Well, last time we were together, we stirred up a hornet’s nest of trouble, and that’s a fact,” he said at last.

                “That isa fact,” Diana echoed the sentiment as she backed off to a safe distance and brushed the dirt from the rump of her jeans.

                He followed her maneuver with laughing eyes. “You look mighty fine, Diana.”

                Heat rose to her face as beads of perspiration rolled between her breasts and gathered at her waistband. The day promised to be a June scorcher. Matthew had warned her to wear old duds, and dress light, but Diana was too self-conscious to be seen in shorts. Her long legs were winter white as the belly of a dead fish, so she had chosen jeans and a faded denim work shirt, hoping they would bring out the blue of her eyes beneath an unruly crop of short, prematurely white hair. She wanted to look more youthful. But at that moment, as the subject of Matthew’s scrutiny, she felt every one of her forty-one years.

                “I feel fine,” she said, sensing Matthew didn’t want to discuss their past troubles any more than she did. “What about you? Are you all back to normal?”

                “Normal?” He chuckled. “Not sure about that.”

                She returned his frank appraisal and liked what she saw. Matthew was a few years older than she, but he was blessed with the lean, firm physique of a much younger man. By any standard, Diana was a tall woman, yet Matthew towered above her and carried himself square and erect. Only his hands, the rough hands of a working man, the deeply etched laugh lines at his eyes and the corners of his mouth, and the slight thinning of his soft brown hair, hinted at his maturity. Diana also admired the sunburn line hidden under his cap--- tan below, pale above, the badge of a man who lived outdoors.

                He shifted self-consciously under her gaze and ruffled Ursie’s head. “We best get going. We came to work, remember? Bobby and Juanita are waiting.”

                On cue, Ursie broke free and bolted towards the house, but suddenly she yelped and slowed to a limp.

                “What’s wrong is she hurt?” Diana demanded.

                “She stepped on a rusty fish hook, and the darn thing got stuck in her paw. Vet cut it out, gave her a tetanus shot and a couple of stitches. She’ll survive.”

                “Why didn’t you call me?” Diana regretted the words as soon they flew from her mouth. After all, Ursie’s well being was none of her business.

                Matthew stood stock-still and searched her eyes. “You know how many times I’ve tried to call you? Where have you been, Diana? I’m not one to converse with an answering machine.”

                “Sorry.” She walked ahead, unable to face him. Her conflicted feelings were not Matthew’s problem.

                He followed in silence, the sound of his boots rustling in overgrown weeds was the only disturbance in the deeply quiet fields. As they neared the house, Diana’s sense of foreboding deepened. The first time she climbed this hill, she met the fearsome old recluse, Jedidiah Porter. Jed was supposed to be her very first real estate client in North Carolina, but instead he was murdered, found floating dead at his dock. The events that followed nearly cost Diana her life. She had, in fact, lost her job, when her Broker in Charge proved to be the killer.

                Matthew caught up and guided her into the shade of a lone sycamore tree. “Bad memories?  I know how you feel about this place. It’s hard to be here again.” His gesture encompassed the fields, the farm, and the lake. “But it’s time to lay the past to rest.”

                She stared into the shaded grass and spotted a stand of yellow wildflowers. Matthew was right, of course, but she still felt a measure of guilt for the tragedy. Old Jed was killed out of greed for this land, potentially worth millions to the developers Diana had worked for. In the end, irony of ironies, Jedidiah had willed his land to the state, to be used as a public park.

                Matthew read her mind as he knelt to pick a daisy. “Way I see it, some good came from all that misery. Jed’s son, Bobby, inherited this house. Now he and Juanita have a chance to make a real life together.”

                Speak of the devil! When Diana glanced down at the farmhouse, she spotted Bobby Porter balanced atop a ladder, scraping loose paint from the sagging eaves. Last year Bobby couldn’t hold a job. He drank too much and ran through women like play toys.

                “I see what you mean, Matthew.”

                She waited expectantly for Matthew to give her the daisy he had picked, but instead, he used the flower to tickle Ursie’s nose. The dog sneezed, eased herself up from the grass, and then limped over to lick Diana’s hand.

                Diana was di
sappointed, but she’d get over it. Looking back at the house, she saw a woman step out from the dark doorway. The woman shielded her eyes against the sudden light, and then looked in their direction.

                “There’s Juanita,” Diana said. “I’m surprised she’s still with him.”

                “Yeah, she’s lasted longer than most.” Matthew bent to pick a fistful of blue violets nestled near the tree trunk. He straightened up, then reached out to touch Diana’s arm. He pressed the flowers into her hands. “These are for you.” He smiled. “They match your eyes…”

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  TWO

   

   

                Playing house…

   

                “Hey, you guys!” Bobby noticed them, jumped off the ladder, then sauntered over to greet them. “C’mon in. Juanita has a little surprise!”

                “Hey, buddy!” Matthew shouted back. “Hope it’s not one of those little surprises that gets born nine months later.” He winked at Diana, who hung back while the two old pals pumped hands and clapped one another on the back.

                “No, ain’t nothin’like that.” Bobby blushed, then glanced at Diana. “Juanita wants to tell you herself. She’ll have my hide if I spill the beans.”