Harm felt his heart miss a beat and his blood go cold.
“What do you mean, ‘She’s gone’?” he growled, leaning down into the smaller agent’s face.
The young woman flinched and went pale.
“She…she called the waitress over,” the woman managed to stammer, “paid the check, got up and came down here. I thought she’d gone to the ladies’ room so I waited a few seconds and then followed her. I didn’t want to make her suspicious. When I got there, the door to one of the two stalls was closed so I went in the other one and pretended to use the toilet. When I came out, it was some other woman.
“I got back out here as quickly as I could and then realized there’s an exit up there, just before the ladies’ room door. It leads to the side of the building. Nate’s out checking the parking lot and the woods now. The trees come up to within about fifty feet of the door.”
“Okay,” Harm breathed, trying to think, “she can’t have gone far. Go on out the front and scout the street. Make like you’re window-shopping or something.
“I’ll go out and help Nate. We’ll meet back at my car in five minutes. My radio and cell phone are packed in my bags. She didn’t want me to bring them and I couldn’t take a chance of her spotting them. If you see anything, contact Nate on his radio. Now get going.”
Jan scurried away and Harm almost ran down the narrow hall to the door, opening about midway down the side of the building. On his left, down near the rear corner, sat two big, green dumpsters, one open, one closed. To his right, part of the gravel parking lot and the road beyond. Directly in front of him and curving as far as he could see, a stand of tall pines against a pale blue sky.
It would be so easy he thought. Pretend to be coming or going to the men’s room, hanging by the side door. A gun jammed in her back, a hand clamped over her mouth, “make a sound and I’ll kill you,” a car parked just outside the door. Gone in a matter of seconds.
But how could this have happened? He’d watched the road and had seen nothing; there hadn’t been a car parked here when they’d pulled up. He was sure of that. No one could have known where they were going, where they’d stop.
A figure emerging out of the trees riveted his attention, bringing his hand instinctively to his shoulder holster before his brain remembered that too sat in the SUV, packed in his bags. But it didn’t matter because he recognized Nate, jogging quickly toward him.
“Nothing,” he said simply, panting to catch his breath.
“It wouldn’t make any sense, anyway. He’s not going to drag her into the woods to do whatever he’s got in mind. He’d want his own place, his own sweet time.” Harm wiped his hand across his dry mouth and tried to reason rationally but all that came to his mind were terrified eyes and a cruel, victorious smirk.
“You want me to call for reinforcements?” Nate asked cautiously.
“No, not yet. Let’s see what we can find out first. Jan’s gone to check out the street. Go back to your car, get on the radio and notify everyone we’ve got on the road, behind and ahead, to keep an eye out for her. He’s probably got her in the front passenger seat so he can gloat. Tell her all the romantic things he’s got planned for her. He won’t be expecting us to have people posted so we might get lucky. I’ll meet you and Jan at my car in about three minutes.”
Nate nodded and hurried toward the street.
Acid and adrenaline pumped into Harm’s already overcrowded stomach and churned with his breakfast, knotting his insides. He felt a stab of pain but he pushed it out of his mind. There couldn’t be anything in his brain except Elgin. Especially not the pictures trying to seep around his mental barricades…images of what this maniac would no doubt do should he slip through their fingers once more.
Pushing everything away but the search, he waited a few more seconds and then followed Nate, rounding the corner and striding toward the sidewalk.
Jan strolled casually down the street about a block up to his right, a slightly bored tourist lady killing some time but actually scanning cars, license plates, people and store interiors. After a half-hour walk through this sleepy little burg, Harm knew she would be able to draw a detailed map of the place including the location and description of every car and person she saw.
On the other side of the parking lot from his car, Nate sat in a blue minivan, the back crammed with what looked like camping gear, speaking on a cell phone. The windows were up and the casual observer would think, from the calm expression on his face the call nothing more than checking road conditions or conversing with a friend. After all, even in a small place like this, a cell phone would not bring any undue attention.
The only other activity he could see centered at the gas station to his left, a national brand, big and modern for such a small town but where two men were filling up their vehicles, a big new pick up and an older, dark green sedan. He couldn’t see anyone else in the vehicles.
Keeping his pace normal and even, Harm walked toward the station. The pickup, on the far side of the island, faced the direction they’d come from. It didn’t seem reasonable that a man would throw his kidnap victim in the back of an open truck but he couldn’t take the chance.
Coming up to the island, he pulled a couple of paper towels from the dispenser, leaning over slightly so he could peer into the truck bed, empty except for a spare tire. The driver glanced questioningly at him and Harm smiled a little, bringing the towels to his shirt and pretending to rub.
“Breakfast,” he explained sheepishly. “Nice truck.”
“Thanks,” the man replied and turned back to the pump.
From where he stood, Harm could also see into the sedan, empty too. But he had no way of knowing what…or who…might be in the trunk. The driver stood in the station paying for his gas and Harm couldn’t get a good look at him through the glare of the sun shining through the window.
Tossing the towels in the trashcan, he circled behind the car, noting make, model and license plate. He bent down, as if to look at something on the ground and listened carefully for any noise coming from the trunk, but he heard nothing..
Inside, the man signed his credit card slip. Good, Harm thought, it will give us a name and address should we need it. He also had two bottles of soda and six assorted candy bars.
Harm moved to a rack of maps and guidebooks just inside the door and began scanning them as if looking for something. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the man as the clerk put his purchases in a brown paper bag. Medium height, broad shoulders, Butch-cut brown hair, light blue, short-sleeved tee shirt, faded light blue jeans.
As he reached the door, Harm moved slightly, bumping his back into the other man’s chest. Immediately, he turned to the other man’s face, just inches from his own. Long, horse face, dull eyes the color of his jeans, no more than twenty-five he guessed.
“Sorry,” Harm told him.
“Okay,” the young man mumbled and pushed out.
“Getcha something?” the clerk asked.
“No. Just looking, thanks,” and he too stepped out in time to see the green sedan pull away and down the street going away from the city.
He’d make sure his people up ahead were alerted to the car and driver but Harm’s cop gut told him that baby face and vacant stare didn’t belong to a kidnapper and murderer.
His gut wrenched again and he turned back toward the parking lot, already plotting the strategy of the hunt.
Out of the corner of his eye, a shop door opening across the two-lane street caught his attention. Turning his head, he stopped short and literally did a double take.
She’d paused just outside the door, zipping her fanny pack closed with one hand and juggling her sunglasses and a brown paper sack in the other.
Heart pumping, he dashed across the pavement, earning an angry honk and the traditional gesture as he narrowly avoided a car coming from the other direction.
By the time he reached her, Elgin had slid her dark glasses over those deep eyes, her face a calm mask.
As he grabbed her by the shoulders, perhaps a bit more roughly than he’d intended, relief and anger welled up inside him. Harm literally didn’t know whether to kiss her or turn her over his knee and spank her.
“Where the hell have you been?” he demanded.
With a quick shake, Elgin slipped from his grasp.
“Don’t touch me,” she shot back.
“I asked you a question.”
“In the grocery store, if you must know.” She jerked her head behind her. “I needed a few things.”
He could tell from her voice they were headed for another screaming match but right then, he didn’t care.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were leaving…where you were going?”
“Stop treating me like a child,” she fumed, her voice rising in anger and frustration. “I’m perfectly capable of crossing the street by myself and counting my change.”
“Then stop acting like a child. A spoiled, stupid child at that. And why didn’t you go out the front? The waitress told me she thought you’d gone to the powder room.”
Instantly, the anger disappeared, her body sagging slightly. She sighed deeply and looked down at the sidewalk between them.
“Because,” she answered in a quiet little voice, “I was afraid…afraid someone might be watching, waiting. I knew that if anyone was there, they’d think I’d gone to the ladies’ room and I could slip out the side door and then sneak back and check out the parking lot and street without being seen. It was silly, I know, but…well…”
It had been silly, and potentially very dangerous for her to risk running around, even for a moment, by herself. But it had also been very clever to think of using the side door for her escape.
“Well,” he relented a little but still trying to sound stern, “please just don’t do it again. When I realized you were gone, I…” the words died in his throat but not before she seized on them.
“You were what?” Her head tilted quizzically to one side and her whole body moved toward him a little.
“Nothing,” he growled, now not wanting to own up to any personal feelings he might have had. “Let’s just get out of here.”
Turning, he felt her hand on his wrist, her skin warm and soft but the muscles tense underneath.
“You were what?” she repeated and he imagined those beautiful eyes narrowed to thoughtful, inquisitive slits. And he knew also he wouldn’t get away with anything but the truth.
“I was worried,” he practically spit. “Okay?”
The muscles in her hand relaxed and she stared up at him for several long seconds.
“You…were worried?” Surprise dripped off her words, not an acid, cynical tone but one of almost childlike wonder. It both excited and annoyed him.
“Of course,” he tried to wiggle out. “Your boss is paying me a lot of money to keep you in one piece for three months. Wouldn’t look very good to lose you the first day.”
“Oh,” she answered simply, her hand dropping back to her side. Without another word, she moved away, stopping at the curb only long enough to check the road in both directions and then heading directly back to the SUV.
Damn it!
He should be roaring mad at her. Stuck in a God-forsaken, dinky-ass, wide spot in the road to nowhere, not a clue where they were headed, with this foul tempered, bubble-headed nut job…for three months no less…who’d just scared the shit out of him and made him look like a jerk in front of his best agents. Why he hadn’t spanked her on sight he didn’t know.
Yet, after everything, with a single word and that wounded look, she’d managed not only to undo his rage but make him feel guilty as well. And his stomach was killing him.
“Damn,” he muttered as he started back across the street, “it’s only day one.”
It had been coming on gradually, lurking like a stalking predator waiting its chance to strike. He’d tried to ignore it, force it away but it had continued its slow, inevitable march and he knew now for sure. He was going to be sick.
Never prone to car sickness, even as a child, the combination of the huge, greasy meal, the anger and adrenaline of her vanishing act and the increasingly steep, winding road had converged and descended on him.
Terrific, he mused, not only did I take the bait about breakfast, but she knew about this lousy snake road. She made me look like an idiot and now she gets the satisfaction of watching me heave as well.
Get off it, stupid, another voice piped up in his head. Sure, she dared you to take on that Godzilla-killer snack but you’re the one who fell for it. And you should have known by the scenery and the climbing road you were headed into the mountains. What did you expect? An eight-lane super highway? Granted, she might be a bitch, but you’re a jerk so I guess we’re even all around.
“There’s a rest area up here on the right,” she told him without looking at him. “I’d like to stop, please.” They were the first words she’d spoken since the sidewalk in French Creek.
“Sure,” he responded, trying to sound casual but secretly overjoyed. If he could get to the restroom, at least he wouldn’t have to pull off the road and put up with her smirking.
Slowing the SUV into the large, empty lot, he parked in a spot directly in front of the small restroom building. His stomach rumbled like an active volcano but he still had to play it cool. Waiting as she retrieved her paper bag and a blanket from the back seat, they exited.
“I’m going to sit over there on the grass,” she nodded to her left, “under the trees.”
“Okay. I’ll be right back. Don’t go wandering off.”
Thankfully, he had the men’s room to himself. Kneeling on the surprisingly clean but chilly cement floor, he leaned over the toilet and stuck his finger down his throat. A gag and the volcano erupted.
In about five minutes, shaken and slightly dizzy but the load in his gut lifted, Harm came back out into the bright sunshine, slipping his dark glasses on, as much to hide his pale face and red, watery eyes as for protection from the sun.
She’d spread the blanket just under the shade of the towering trees but facing out on a vista of pine-carpeted mountains and foothills rolling back toward the flat farmland stretching to meet pale blue, cloudless sky at the horizon.
“This is a beautiful spot,” he remarked as he sat down on the small blanket, his leg only about six inches from her.
“It is,” she agreed reaching into the bag beside her. “But you’ll probably enjoy it more with these.” She handed him a plastic quart bottle and a small box. “Those little pink pills really do relieve the nausea and the seltzer will help settle your queasy stomach.”
“How long have you known?” he asked, surprised by her gifts but braced for the razzing he felt sure would come.
“I didn’t. Not for sure anyway. But after that Country Breakfast and knowing what this road is like…well, actually I expected you’d be sick before this.”
She pulled her legs up, circled them with her arms, set her chin on her knees and considered him for a few silent moments.
“I didn’t actually think you’d order it after you read what it came with,” she said slowly, “and after you did, I thought for sure, even as big as you are, you couldn’t, wouldn’t finish it.”
A smile lifted the corners of her mouth a little.
“After you did, you looked, as Mimi, my little Jewish friend would say, like you were about to plotz. You know, explode from overeating. When you got up to go to the men’s room, I thought maybe you were going to be sick then.”
The smile disappeared.
“I…I felt sort of responsible so I figured the least I could do would be get you something for the indigestion. I didn’t want to say anything to you because I didn’t want to embarrass you about the breakfast. Make you think I was rubbing it in. I thought I’d run across to the store and be back before you missed me. Then, if you did start to feel bad I could just whip out the tablets and seltzer and tell you I always carry them into the mountains, just in case. I even thought of suggesting we lay over in French Creek until you were feeling better but…”
“But I came charging at you like an angry bull,” he finished, popping a couple of the pink tablets in his mouth, chewing them and washing them down with the bubbly seltzer.
“No, you were right. I should have waited and at least told you where I was going. I could have told you I just needed something. It never occurred to me that you might worry.”
An apology. Not the words exactly, but the sound of her voice, her body language.
Stunned, he took several sips of water and turned his head as if studying the view.
It was totally unexpected and she’d caught him off guard. Again. Why did it seem that just when he thought he had her figured out, she’d turn into something else?
“I guess I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he admitted without looking at her. “I should have known you were okay. I mean, I didn’t see anyone following us and I checked the rearview mirror pretty carefully.”
He turned back to face her then.
“Almost as carefully as you did.”
Her smile, warm and genuine, lit up her whole face, even, he imagined, those beautiful eyes still hidden behind the sunglasses.
“Was I that obvious?”
Almost in spite of himself, he smiled back.
“Only to someone paying close attention. For the most part, you look cool, calm and collected.”
Elgin laughed, triggering a pleasant tingle from somewhere south of his belt buckle through his entire body.
“I wish. Inside, I’m just one raw, exposed nerve ending.”
“You hide it very well.”
“Something I learned as a child but I wonder sometimes if it’s a blessing or a curse. All I know right now is that I just want to sit in the sun and read and not think ever again, about anything. I’m so tired of being scared all the time.”
Without thinking, he laid his fingers gently on her arm. Instantly, the tingle became a lightning strike, welding him to her.
“You don’t have to worry about being scared,” he assured her. “You have my word on that.”
“Take the next off-ramp,” she told him, a small note of excitement in her voice. “State Route 2. At the light, make a left and pull into the vista point.”
Doing as she directed, Harm pulled the SUV off the road and into the parking lot of a scenic overlook. Elgin jumped out of the car almost before he could get it stopped. She almost ran to a low rock wall running around the lip of the flat area.
“I love this place,” she sighed as he came up beside her. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”
Below them, the same textured green-black carpet of pines that had surrounded them since they’d left French Creek, flowed down to the very shore of a huge lake, lying in a bowl of rugged mountains like a polished sapphire. The sun, hanging in a cloudless pale denim sky, sparkled off the calm surface like a spotlight on the facets of a perfectly cut gem.
“It’s called Haunted Moon Lake,” she said. “Just beyond that curved point over there, off to the left, is where we’re going. Spirit Cove. The western side of the lake, over there’s been developed and has gotten quite ritzy. Several very trendy, upscale little tourist trap villages. But Spirit Cove is the only thing on this side of the lake that passes for civilization. We’ll pick up some supplies and then the cabin’s about another ten miles up the road.”
She seemed giddy, almost childlike. Far removed from the cool, sophisticated bit-…woman, he knew.
And the scene was lovely. It reminded him of the place where he and Jeanne had spent that last…
Stop it, he barked internally, unnerved by the unexpected and unwelcome bit of flotsam dredged up from his memory, momentarily catching his mind and his heart on its sharp point.
That time, that place, everything about that lay gone and far away. Buried. Only the trees and the water and the sky had momentarily brought them back. With an effort, he forced the thought back down and slammed the mental compartment shut again.
The place she’d pointed to from the lookout had seemed very close but the two-lane blacktop road snaked and meandered casually down the mountain, the lake playing peek-a-boo with them through the pines. It took more than a half-hour for the SUV to crawl out of the woods and suddenly into a large open space between the water and the lake. A small sign, painted yellow letters carved into brown wood announced, “Welcome to Spirit Cove.”
Bigger than French Creek, it sported rows of little shops on the left hand side of the road while the lake and snug-looking vacation cottages, small, old fashioned motels and open public beaches clung to their right. Several cars were parked along the street in front of the shops and the traffic had swelled to perhaps ten cars creeping through as the tourists rubbernecked, cameras and children’s heads stuck out the windows.
“Spirit Cove Mercantile is up on the left,” Elgin directed, “right after the Skywood Lodge. It used to be a local bar. You know, beer on tap, whiskey out of a jug under the bar, and a pool table. Not a bad place ‘til the tourists started coming. Next thing you know, the owner’s stocking white wine and imported beer. Stuck a sofa in front of the fireplace and got cable for the television. Now, instead of baseball scores and football, you get stock prices and golf. Yuck!” She shuttered in disgust.
Harm grinned. “I dunno. I would have said you were definitely more white wine spritzer than beer. And I can’t imagine you risking breaking a nail playing pool.”
“Funny,” she shot back, her smile and teasing tone matching his, “I would have said you were Chardonnay and golf myself. Even in blue jeans, you still have that faint but distinctly unpleasant stench of Yuppie superiority about you. Of course, I could be wrong. You might just be a plain, garden variety, obnoxious alpha male.”
Precisely the sort of barb she’d been needling him with since they’d met, now, devoid of venom, it seemed actually sort of funny.
They passed the bar and turned immediately into a small parking lot. A single story, house-sized building with pine log exterior and picture windows crammed with merchandise sat wedged snuggly against a steep cliff. Along the entire front of the building ran a wide, deep, covered porch, complete with soda vending machines and an assortment of ladder-back rockers. Above the porch, a small sign announced, “Spirit Cove Mercantile” in red lettering across a bright white background.
Inside, Harm gazed in surprise at the amount of merchandise the deceptively small building held. To the right, aisles of groceries from snack foods to staples ran the entire length of the store, big refrigerator cases taking up the back wall. Beer, soda, wine and dairy products of all kinds sat side by side. To his left, the aisles combined drug, hardware, camping and marine supply store.
“Elgin, my love!” shrieked a blur racing from the back of the store. In an instant, she became wrapped in pale blue arms and darker blue designer slacks, her face disappearing in a huge, wet kiss.
“Oh my God, El,” the voice continued, letting her up for air, “why didn’t you tell me you were coming? You look gorgeous. How long are you going to stay? Are you working on a book? I hope you’re staying for the Fourth. Fireworks are going to be absolutely fabulous this year. Helped plan the program myself. Well, you’ve absolutely got to stay. That’s all there is to it. I’m having a little get together at my place and when I tell people Gillian Shelby’s going to be there…well, it will be the event of the season although up here that’s not really saying much. Oh, and I just got a whole rack of your books in and I’ll absolutely die of gratitude if you sign a few. Give you an extra ten- percent off anything in the house. So how have you been?”
Elgin laughed. “I’m fine, Marty, just fine. But give me a chance to catch my breath. I just got here.”
“Oh, of course, I know. You must be exhausted after that drive. Supplies, right?”
“Uh-huh. I’m just going to pick up a few things now but we’ll be staying the whole summer. Right through Labor Day.”
Pale white hands with a trace of pink polish clapped together. “Labor Day? My God, that’s absolutely wonderful! We’ll go picnicking and take ‘The Belle’ over to that alpine road company Vegas and see a show and…did you say ‘we?’”
“Yes, Marty.” She pointed to Harm, standing about a foot behind him. “This is Campbell Harm. He’s my secretary. I’m working on a book and he’s helping me.”
Marty turned a round, pale face to Harm. Only then did he realize Marty was a man. Well, perhaps man might be too strong a term. Male. Probably. Pale blonde, almost white hair hanging in a sort of shag around his moon face, pale gray eyes, thin nose, unnaturally pink cheeks and full lips in that ghostly body.
He put out a long hand and gave Harm a limp shake, running those eyes up and down him like an expert appraiser of horseflesh.
“I thought your secretary was a lady named Martha,” he said suspiciously.
“That’s right,” Elgin agreed pleasantly. “Martha Jackson. I’m surprised you remember her. Well, Martha is a city girl. Hates all this fresh air, and pine trees give her hives. She’s taking the summer off and Campbell kindly offered to fill in.”
Marty sighed. “I suppose he’s unbearably straight?” Disappointment coated his words like a child who’s just discovered there’s no more chocolate ice cream.
“Sorry, darling,” she sympathized, putting her fingertips on his arm, “Gillian Shelby likes her men a little kinky, but definitely straight.”
“Oh well,” he sighed. “You get on with your shopping. I’ve got to go over and stand behind my new cashier to make sure he doesn’t sell the cash register. Morgan Brantly’s son, Byron. Home from college. Begged me to give him a summer job. Great ass, but if he were any dumber, he’d be getting plant food through a tube twice a week.” Marty rolled his eyes, made a martyr’s face and walked away.
Elgin grabbed a small cart and began slowly going through the aisles. When they were sufficiently out of earshot, Harm leaned down.
“What was that?” he asked in a conspiratorial whisper.
“Martin Van Scoyk. Marty to practically everyone. He owns the place. Don’t worry. He’s harmless.”
“He sounded like my great aunt Clara at Christmas. I was waiting for him to pinch your cheek.”
“That’s just his way. Marty and I go way back and he’s just glad to see me, that’s all. Besides, Marty lives over the top. You’ll get used to him.”
“Don’t bet on it.”
At the checkout counter, Marty scooted Byron out of the way as Harm reached for his wallet. Elgin beat him to it.
“Be a love and put this on my account, Marty, would you? And while your ringing up, I’ll sign those books.”
Once more in the SUV, the supplies stowed safely in the back, Harm turned and glared at her. “What was that all about?”
“What?”
“First you pay the restaurant check and now you have The Fairy Prince put everything on your tab here.”
“So?”
“So, I’m perfectly capable of paying my own bills.”
Tickled, Elgin giggled.
“What’s so funny?” he demanded.
“You are. That is so typically male.”
“It’s embarrassing,” he responded, his anger rising. “I don’t like being embarrassed. Especially in public places and especially by a woman.”
“You don’t need me to embarrass you,” she told him caustically, “you do a bang-up job of that yourself. Besides, the money you use comes out of the money Sheila’s paying you which comes out of her share of the money I make writing so I don’t see what the difference is.”
“The difference is, what the hell do you suppose people are thinking when they see you paying our bills.”
Elgin’s smile returned. “They think you’re a big, dumb jock, gigolo. The women are green with envy and so, I can assure you, are the men. I can also assure you that Spirit Cove’s grapevine will not lose a moment getting this tasty little piece of gossip on the wire. By tomorrow noon, everyone within fifty miles will know that city lady who writes those dirty books is keeping a man at her place for the summer. Marty will probably have to re-stock my books a dozen times before Labor Day.”
Harm blinked in disbelief. He’d been so concerned with his trap, he hadn’t considered anything else. Of course, that would be the first conclusion people were going to leap to. Calling himself her secretary wouldn’t help. In fact, it sounded lame even to him. People were naturally going to assume…
Oh swell, he thought as he turned the key, what else?