Missing (38 page)

 
"You know, you're just like your freaky little uncle. He meddled where he didn't belong, and it got him killed," Roland said, then pushed the knife a little harder against her skin. "So soft," he muttered. "It won't hurt a bit."

 
Ally was trying to come to terms with what he'd said about Uncle Doo when everything came undone.

 
Before Roland could shove the knife in, he saw something from the corner of his eye. Just as suddenly, his body went numb. He could hear Ally screaming as she slid out of his arms, but he could no more have stopped her than he could have saved himself.

 
In slow motion, his mind registered that the knife he'd been holding was no longer in his hand. There was a moment of panic, then steel was slicing through flesh and bone, but not Ally's. His. His arms felt like rubber, his hands flailing uselessly at his neck as he went down. Cradled by concrete and with the sun in his eyes, he had yet to see who had brought him to this place.

 
Feelings began to intensify as his pulse echoed in his ears—the precious sound of his life, fading with each beat. The coppery taste of his own blood was on his lips, the scent of Ally Monroe's shampoo as her hair slid through his fingers in his nose, and in his ears an emotionless voice telling him something—something he strained hard to hear.

 
Then, when he did, his last thought was one of regret. He should have left town. Wes Holden didn't lie. He'd warned him to leave Ally alone.

                              
* * *

 
Ally didn't know what had happened or that Wes was even there until he picked her up in his arms.

 
"I've got you, baby.... I've got you. It's over. He can't hurt you again."

 
Ally began to tremble, then she started to weep.

 
"They're dead. They're dead. He said my brothers are dead...and oh, Wes...oh, Wes...he killed Uncle Dooley, too."

 
Wes could hardly grasp what she was saying, but if he could have killed Roland twice, he would have done it right then.

 
"Oh, baby...I'm sorry...so sorry."

 
Charlie appeared and grabbed Wes by the arm.

 
"Get her out of here," Charlie said. "Devine and I have got the scene until the authorities arrive."

 
Wes quickly carried Ally back into the room, kicking the door shut as he went. He laid her on the bed and then ran into the bathroom for a wet cloth. Moments later he was back and sat down on the bed beside her.

 
"Ally...honey...let me see your hands."

 
She sat up. Her fingers were trembling as she felt along her neck, feeling for the cut and the blood, remembering the knife against her throat. Then she put her arms around Wes's neck.

 
"You saved me," she whispered. "You saved my life."

 
Wes tossed the wet cloth aside and pulled her into his lap. She was shaking hard—so hard. Every breath was followed by a sob, but she didn't break. She was tough, this woman of his heart.

 
"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. If I'd known you were in any danger, I would never have left you alone."

 
"It's not your fault, it was Storm's. All of this. It was his fault, wasn't it?"

 
Wes closed his eyes as he held her and tried not to think of what he'd seen up on the mountain.

 
"Yes."

 
"My brothers... Did Agent Hurley find them? Storm said they were dead."

 
Wes said a quick prayer for the lie, then nodded.

 
"Yes, darling...he found them."

 
"I need to see them, please."

 
Unconsciously, he tightened his hold.

 
"No, honey, no. You don't...you can't...."

 
"But—"

 
"Honey... the fire... they just—"

 
Ally moaned, but she didn't argue. For that, Wes was thankful. He hadn't exactly lied. He'd just led her to believe what she needed to know, so he could keep her from a more horrible truth.

 
"Oh, Wes, how am I going to tell Daddy?"

 
"Ally, honey, unless you want to, you'll never have to do anything alone again. I'll be right beside you when it's time."

 
"Okay."

 
"Now, let me take a look at your hands."

 
She leaned back as he held them palms up, then grabbed the washcloth from the table where he'd tossed it, and began cleaning the grit and gravel from" the scrapes.

 
"Wes?"

 
"Hmm?"

 
"Our house...it's gone, isn't it?"

 
He paused, then looked up.

 
"Yes, honey, but your uncle Dooley's house is still there."

 
She tried to smile, but it was hard to come by. She didn't want to go back. She would never be happy on the mountain again.

 
"What's going to happen to Daddy? To us?"

 
Wes laid the cloth aside, then cradled her face.

 
"Wherever we are, your father will be with us."

 
"I don't know if he will leave this mountain," Ally said.

 
Wes heard more than concern for her father in her words.

 
"What do you want?"

 
"To be with you."

 
“That's already a done deal, darlin'. What else?"

 
Her lips were trembling, her eyes swimming with unshed tears.

 
"I don't think I can be here anymore."

 
"Do you mean here in Blue Creek?"

 
She nodded. “Too many bad memories."

 
God, he knew just what she meant.

 
"It's all right, baby. I understand."

 
"So what happens now?" she asked.

 
There was a long moment of silence as Wes considered his words.

 
“We do as everyone has done during times such as these. We pick up the pieces that are left of our lives, weep for the dead, and live the best life that we can for those who can no longer live it for themselves.”

 
“Oh, Wes, what a gift you are to my life.”

 
“As you are to mine,” he said softly, then added, “So...have you ever been to Montana?”

 
Ally shook her head slowly.

 
“What would you think about going there?”

 
“To live?” she asked.

 
“Yes.”

 
“If you are there, then I think it would be fine.”

 
“The sky is closer to the ground and the space wider then you can imagine,” Wes said.

 
“Sounds like heaven.”

 
Then there was a knock at the door.

 
Wes pulled her close, kissing her hard and fast, before going to answer.

 
The loose ends of their lives had yet to be tied before they could begin to tie knots of their own, but when they began, there would be no more need to look back.

 
The worst was over.

 
Colonel John Wesley Holden was no longer missing in action.

 
Thanks to Ally, he’d found his way home.