Page 38 of Old Money, Deadly Secrets

Dog let out a huff of air. “The clinic is a pile of ash, Will. It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to the town,” Will reminded him firmly. “I remember what you told me before the accident. After the clinic was firebombed, you realized Monterey needed the ER more than just a separate consultation office. You said they needed a real 24/7 urgent care facility because the nearest hospital is nearly an hour away. I’ve already authorized the architects to move forward with those expanded plans. The blueprints now include two trauma bays and a full diagnostic suite. It’s exactly what you wanted.”

Dog looked out the window, his expression cold. “What I wanted was to be the one on the front lines in those trauma bays. A one-legged medic is a liability, Will. I can’t stabilize a patient if I can’t even stabilize myself.”

“Money isn’t the obstacle, Barkley,” Will said softly. “You have the resources to build the finest facility in Virginia. You have the staff ready to go. The only thing missing is the man who had the vision to start it.”

Dog didn’t respond. The fire that had driven him to build the Blue Ridge Center had been snuffed out in that meadow. All he could see now was the failure, the moment he’d let himself be distracted by the sound of Margaret’s voice, by the way she looked in the autumn light, instead of watching his own feet.

“How is she?” Dog asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it.

Will didn’t bother hiding his irritation as he chose his words, his voice edged with steel. “Margaret is at the Farm. I’ve been managing the federal freeze on the Winslow estate. It’s a total disaster. Charles’s assets are tangled up in a dozen investigations. She has nothing: no access, no resources, nothing but the goodwill of Bear and the Blue Ridge Protectors keeping her afloat. If you think she doesn’t need you, then you’re either blind or dead to what’s happening. It’s time to pull yourself together and fight, or you’re going to lose everything before you even had a chance.”

Dog felt a flicker of the old protectiveness, but he shoved it down. “She’s safe there. Bear won’t let anyone through the gates.”

“She’s more than safe, Doc,” Jake interjected, leaning against the wall. “Link says she’s back in ‘Queen’ mode. She’s got the kids in a routine, and she’s spending most of her time in town. Apparently, she’s been seen at the Highland Diner. Meeting with Sheriff Brody and some local contractors. She isn’t sitting around waiting for you to call.”

Dog felt a sharp, unexpected pang of jealousy mixed with guilt. He had told her to go away. He had told her he was done. He had expected her to retreat into her grief, not to go back into the world he had failed to protect her from.

“Besides,” Jake continued, his voice dropping into a more serious, tactical tone. “Swede called this morning. The bounty on both of you is effectively dead.”

Dog’s head snapped toward him. “Dead? Charles’s network doesn’t just give up.”

“They didn’t have a choice,” Jake said with a grim smirk. “Swede put the word out through his channels on the dark web. He made it very clear that the funding for those contracts is now at the center of a federal treason and RICO investigation. He let the right people know that anyone even looking at those hits would have Homeland Security and the FBI tracing the crypto back to their front doors before they could chamber a round. No one’s interested in a payday that comes with a life sentence in Gitmo.”

Jake let that sink in for a moment before pushing off the wall and walking to the foot of the bed. “She knows it’s over, Barkley. She knows Charles is gone, the threat is gone, and for the first time in fifteen years, no one is holding a leash. She’s taking full advantage of that freedom. She isn’t the victim you pulled out of that car anymore. She’s a woman with a mission, and she’s doing it all without you.”

“Good,” Dog said, his voice sounding like a lie. “She took me at my word. That’s what’s supposed to happen.”

“Is it?” Jake turned his hard gaze on him. “Because you look like a man who just realized he won the battle but lost the point of the war. You drove her off because you couldn’t stand her seeing you broken. Now she’s out there being whole without you. How’s that ego holding up now?”

“That’s enough, Jake,” Will said, sensing the escalating tension. He stood and patted Dog’s shoulder. “I have to get back to the office. I’ll leave the new blueprints on the tablet for you. Look at them, Barkley. Remind yourself that you still have work to do.”

26 - MARGARET

The walls of Moose and Elena’s farmhouse were thinner than the reinforced stone of the Winslow estate, yet they held a warmth Margaret had never known. Morning light filtered softly through gauzy curtains, casting a honeyed glow on the worn wooden floors. She woke to the house in gentle motion, hearing the low rumble of Moose’s deep voice in conversation and the rhythmic clatter of pans and dishes from the large kitchen where Elena was already coaxing reluctant teens into the day’s meal preparation. The aroma of fresh herbs from the small vegetable garden outside drifted in through a cracked window, mixing with the comforting scent of rising bread.

Margaret lay still for a moment, letting the sounds wash over her. Emily and Charles Jr. were upstairs, still navigating the strange freedom of a life without rigid schedules, tutors, and nannies. They were children pressed into grown-up roles for so long; now, in this imperfect and unruled space, they were learning to be just that: children. Yet that freedom came with uncertainty and hesitation. Margaret knew they stumbled through the silence between lessons, the unpredictability of choice, and the weight of adulthood resting awkwardly on their small shoulders.

Elena had created a home for young adults who had recently aged out of foster care and found themselves with nowhere else to turn. It was a sanctuary where they could live while learning how to navigate the challenges of life on their own. Outside, the garden beds were planted in neat rows, bursting with green beans, ripe tomatoes, and fragrant basil, tended by young hands that were discovering more than just how to grow food. Inside, the house hummed with life. The laughter of two eighteen-year-olds, a boy and a girl who had only just stepped into adulthood and independence, filled the rooms, a sound of hope and belonging. In this place, these young people were beginning to piece together the childhoods and futures they had once been denied.

Here, amidst peeling paint and creaking floorboards, Margaret found herself listening to the soundtrack of a household learning what it meant to be whole. The comforting chorus of voices and movement drew her toward the small guest room down the hall.

She paused in the doorway, watching Charlie sit cross-legged on the floor next to Moose. Her son was intently trying to mirror Mike’s method of lacing up a pair of rugged hiking boots, his tentative movements steadied by the big man’s calm presence.

“Do you have it, Charlie?” Margaret asked softly.

The boy looked up, a small smile touching his face. He didn’t flinch at the sound of his name anymore. For ten years, he had been Charles Montgomery, a name he carried like a heavy, ill-fitting coat. But here, under the wide Virginia sky, he was becoming just Charlie. Margaret had reclaimed him, syllable by syllable, stripping away the shadow of the man who had shared his name.

“I think so, Mom,” Charlie said, his tongue poking out in concentration. “Mike says if I’m going to help with the horses, I can’t have tripping hazards.”

Moose glanced up at Margaret with a hopeful look. “Would it be alright if I take Charlie and Emily down to the stable for a bit? It’ll give them some exercise and teach them about caring for the horses.”

Margaret nodded, warmth seeping into her chest. “That sounds perfect.”

“Is the nice man coming back today?” Emily asked, looking up from the intricate Lego set Will had brought. She was carefully fitting together tiny bricks, her concentration breaking only when she spoke. “The one with the shiny blue tie?”

Margaret realized Emily was talking about Will Berkshire. Will had visited briefly to handle the initial emergency guardianship paperwork, bringing a suitcase full of toys and a level of polished charm that had captivated the children. To them, Will was the face of the Berkshire name, the only one they had ever met. They had no idea about the other brother, the one who still had hold of their mother’s heart.