CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 25

She needed a gun.

If not Neal's, another one.

Which she didn't have.

But to intimidate Gideon, which she fully intended, she'd need a weapon. A serious weapon. One that didn't require her to be close to him. Yep, Brooke thought, she needed a gun, and even though the thought was foreign to her, that never in her wildest dreams had she thought she would want to be near a firearm, she had to get her hands on a gun.

Neal's little Beretta would do.

If she could get it.

The problem was that she needed the key to the safe to get Neal's pistol and she didn't want to explain to him why she wanted it. So, despite the urge to confront Gideon right this very minute, she had to force herself to be patient, to bide her time, and to come up with a plan.

As luck would have it, Neal came home from his weekly golf game earlier than expected. "Rained out. Had to stop at the turn," he explained as he stepped through the door and was met with a yipping, excited Shep. "Hey, who's this?" He crouched to pet the dog. "Who's a good boy, huh? Who's a good boy?"

Shep whined and excited and was rewarded with major scratches and pets.

Looking up from the excited dog, Neal asked, "How did this happen? How did you find him?"

"Leah ran into a guy who had him," Brooke said, trying to keep the acrimony out of her voice. "In the park."

"Really?" Frowning, Neal glanced to the windows looking out on the street and the wooded park beyond.

As if she'd been listening at her bedroom door, Leah ran downstairs.

"You want to tell him what happened?" Brooke guessed, and Leah did. Eagerly. Detail by minute detail. When Marilee joined them she added in the part about the bracelet wound through Shep's collar, even showing it to her father, including the charm with the sailing ship and engraving.

He eyed the date. "Beginning of summer. June."

"Right." Her throat went dry.

"I've already posted pictures of the bracelet on the Internet," Marilee said as she snagged a box of Oreos from the cupboard. "Social media—hoping someone will come forward and claim it. Then maybe we'll figure out who the guy is so, you know, we can, like, reward him or something."

"Good idea," Neal said.

After taking several cookies from the package, Marilee whistled to the dog and headed back up the stairs.

Neal watched her leave. When she was out of earshot he asked, "How's it going?"

"Between Marilee and me?" Brooke asked and, at his nod, said, "Better. Though I think being up all night is taking its toll. On all of us. But Marilee's perked up since Shep came home, and at least she's talking to me again."

"That's good." He took a swallow. "Did you talk about last night?"

"No." Brooke shook her head. "For now—this afternoon—I'm letting it pass. I thought I'd give it some time. Ferment, you know. Let us all think about it. But we do have to emphasize that what she did was wrong. And I'm not just talking about sneaking out with Nick, but the whole Allison Carelli thing." She sighed. "I don't know how she could keep it from us, from the Carellis."

"She's not the only one. Several kids knew."

"Yeah, but she's our daughter."

He nodded, raking his hand through his hair. "Teenagers. Sometimes you don't know what they're thinking."

"Peer pressure," Leah chimed in.

Neal said, "But we have to talk to her tomorrow. Before school on Monday. I take it there's no word on the other girl?"

"Penny Williams?" Brooke felt that same old worry she always did when the girl's name was mentioned. It had been so long since anyone had seen her, hope was fading that she was alive or would turn up again. "No," she said. "I've been on a text thread with some of the moms from school. There's lots of speculation, but it seems to me that the two incidents are totally unrelated."

"God, I wish she could be found."

"Me too."

He blew out a long breath of air. "It's exhausting."

"And really scary. I know." She leaned a shoulder against the refrigerator. "I'm tired too. Don't want to fight with Marilee. I mean, I will. Just not right now."

He frowned, as if mentally wrestling with something, but finally nodded as he walked to the refrigerator. "Yeah. Sure. We should give Marilee a little space to think things over."

"I'm trying. But she's still in trouble and knows it. Big trouble."

He found a bottle of Coors in the fridge. "So, am I supposed to believe you're learning patience in your old age?"

"Old age?" She made a sound of disgust, and as he flipped the top of the beer bottle across the counter and it bounced against the coffeepot, she sent him a knowing look. "And then there are those of us who are immature beyond their years."

Neal actually laughed aloud, some of the tension finally breaking. "You're right!" He wrapped one arm around Brooke's waist and swung her around the room while still holding on to the bottle of Coors with the other.

"Stop!" she protested but actually giggled as he set her on the floor again. How long had it been since they had been this comfortable with each other, had teased each other playfully?

He took a long swallow from his beer, gave her a wink, then gave her a quick pat on the rump before he announced that he was going to "hit the showers."

Only then did Brooke see Leah in the archway to the living room. She'd obviously watched the entire exchange. All joy in her face had drained.

"What?" Brooke asked.

"I wish I had that," her sister whispered as she gazed to the staircase where Neal had disappeared.

"Had what?" Brooke asked.

"Oh, you know. I didn't mean . . . not Neal, but . . . I was thinking aloud that I wish I had that—what you and Neal have—with Sean," she corrected, obviously flustered and stumbling. Her cheeks turned pink.

"But it's over with Sean. Right?"

"Yes, yes. Right. Uh, look," she swept a glance at her watch, "I'd better get back to packing up." And with that she too went upstairs, though Brooke couldn't imagine how much packing she would need to do after being here so short a time.

It didn't matter. Brooke had a small window in which to do what she had to. So she went up the stairs into the master bedroom, and when she heard Neal turn on the shower she found his damp clothes in a pile on the chair in the bedroom, riffled through his pockets and, praying she had time, extracted his keys. In a flash she was downstairs, in the den, sorting through the keys until she came up with the smaller key for the safe. Her heart was pounding, her nerves strung tight as she listened to the sound of water running. Her fingers fumbled with the combination and muffed it, spinning past the final number.

Biting her lip, one ear cocked to the noises outside the door of the den, she gave it another try, heard the tumblers fall into place, inserted the key, twisted, and opened the safe.

The Beretta was inside.

A small pocket pistol.

Perfect.

She picked it up, snagged two clips next to it, and closed the safe just as she heard the water stop running overhead.

Damn.

She had to work fast.

Barely breathing, she closed the safe and stuffed the keys and ammo into her pocket. Pistol in hand, she slipped out of the room, across the hall, and down the stairs to the garage, where she stashed the weapon and clips under the passenger seat of her Explorer. Stealthily, she mounted the stairs, swept through the laundry, and up the final half flight to the main level.

Leah was in the kitchen at the sink. Uncapping a bottle of Tylenol, she started when Brooke appeared and dropped the bottle, nearly knocking over a glass of water. "Jesus, you scared me." Scraping up the pills that had escaped, she eyed her up and down. "What're you doing?"

"Just getting something from the car."

"What?" Leah asked, tossing back a pill and chasing it down with a big gulp.

Brooke realized her hands were empty. "I mean, I thought I left my phone in the car, but I didn't."

"Oh." Leah took another swallow of water and tossed the rest into the sink.

"Headache?"

"Yeah." Leah nodded. "Trying to get rid of it. I get these sometimes. Probably tension. You know, I'm going to have to deal with Sean. Or his lawyer. And . . . well, whatever."

"And it's been kind of a wild twenty-four hours."

"Kind of?" Leah shook her head. "I couldn't live this way. Much as I envy you, as I said . . . but . . . Brooke, this"—she stretched her arms to include all of the house—"this is pure chaos!"

You don't know the half of it.

"Usually not so much." But she recalled that Leah had lied to her about the money she'd borrowed, and that Neal had equivocated as well. With everything else going on, Brooke had put it out of her thoughts. But there it was again. Front and center.

Her sister was definitely part of the chaos, much as she disparaged it.

"I'd go out of my mind," Leah said.

"Sometimes I think I am."

"Well, I don't blame you." She glanced at the clock and said with more than a hint of sarcasm, "I really hate to leave when we're having all this fun, but I'd better go up and finish packing." She paused. "You're still up for driving me to the airport?"

"Of course." Brooke planned to use the time to not only ask Leah about her deal with Neal but also to confront Gideon once she'd dropped her sister off at the airport. After all, there was no time like the present.

She was done with him.

Done with his calls.

Done with his motorcycle roaring past.

Done with his charades of cop and pizza deliveryman.

Done with his damned bracelet.

Done with his spying and threats.

Done with his dead rat left to intimidate and terrorize her.

This time, no matter what else happened, she'd make sure he got the message.

Neal's gun would see to it.