“I have a present for you,” he told her as they sipped their coffee on the deck. The early sun filtered through the pines and the cloudless sky promised a beautiful day but a chill hung in the air and they had both put on heavy overshirts before coming out.
“A present?” she repeated in mild surprise. “For me?”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s not going to explode or anything, is it?”
“Nope,” he grinned, sticking his fingers in his shirt pocket. “Here.”
He opened his fist to reveal a beautiful gold locket, carved with a delicate Celtic knot and hung on a short, sturdy looking gold chain.
“Oh,” Elgin gasped, completely shocked by the jewelry and the unexpected gesture. “It’s…it’s beautiful. But why?”
“Don’t worry about it. Just take it.” His open hand moved closer to her across the table.
Tentatively, she reached out and ran a finger over its surface, feeling the almost imperceptible design. “Not unless you tell me what the catch is.”
“What makes you think there’s a catch?”
“Because there’s always a catch,” she assured him.
“Suppose I told you I just wanted you to have it?”
“I’d ask how come you just happen to have a gold pendant on you?”
He looked into those deep, intelligent dark eyes and knew again she wouldn’t settle for anything but the truth.
“It’s a homing device,” Harm sighed. “It gives off a signal.” He held up his watch and punched one of the little buttons on the outer rim. Immediately, the numbers vanished and a tiny pulsing dot on a grid appeared. “I can track you anywhere in a two mile radius. That way, we don’t have to spend every waking moment together. Give us both a little breathing room.”
“And…and you honestly expect me to wear that…that electronic dog collar?” Her voice hardened to steel.
“It is not a dog collar,” he corrected, his own voice growing colder, “electronic or otherwise. It’s a necessary precaution for your own safety. It weighs next to nothing, it’s very attractive and if you’d stop being such a stubborn bitch, you’d wear it and be grateful I don’t get a real collar and leash. And a muzzle while I’m at it.”
“You stupid bastard…” she began but he stopped her.
“Look, wear the damn thing or don’t,” he growled, dropping it on the table in front of her. “It’s no skin off my nose. Me? I’m gonna take my binoculars and go for a long walk. There’s gotta be more to look at around here than your grumpy face.” Pushing back his chair, he stood up, grabbed his field glasses from the table and stomped down the deck steps toward the woods on the other side of the parking area.
Fuming, Elgin picked up her coffee mug, slouched deep in her chair and considered both the situation and the pendant shining on the wood tabletop.
A homing device, she thought angrily. Disguised as a present…a beautiful piece of jewelry to flatter and trick her like some idiot six-year old. Well she’d show him! She’d throw it off the dock into the lake. He could listen to the fishes on his Dick Tracy watch and be damned.
Don’t be silly, countered the rational part of her mind, it makes perfect sense. After all, you don’t know that the stalker hasn’t managed to follow you up here. It’s a small enough safety measure to take. And it will give you a certain amount of privacy, freedom. That is why you came up here, isn’t it? That and to write your book. You can even make the pendant a sort of ‘love token’ from the hero to the heroine. ‘Keep me close to your heart’ sort of thing.
Well, since you put it that way…
Elgin considered the small gold circle on the table. Very pretty, she admitted grudgingly. She didn’t normally wear necklaces, but she could slip it under her clothes and no one would know she had it, including she surmised, even herself.
The sound of a twig snapping echoed through the trees like a gunshot, bringing her out of her mood. No doubt he’d walked off his pout, and she’d agree to wear the necklace as a safety precaution only.
She heard the bottom step creak and the thud of a heavy boot on the wooden stairs. Inexplicably, she felt glad that he’d decided to come back. Not that she’d missed him exactly…
An unfamiliar shape, large and heavy materialized, moving rapidly up the steps. In the instant she recognized Harm hadn’t returned, a short, frightened yelp escaped her as she dropped her coffee mug and stood up, turning over her chair in the process.
He stopped dead, blinking in surprise at the sight of her.
“I…I’m sorry,” he told her anxiously. “I…I didn’t mean to startle you. I didn’t realize anyone was here. Forgive me, please. Are you all right?” He took a step toward her and instinctively, Elgin backed away, almost tripping over the chair.
“Who…who are you?” Her voice, filled with panic, little more than a squeak.
“Chad Comstock,” he replied. “I…I really didn’t mean to break in like this. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll leave. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
Tall, lean and muscular, he stood blocking the stairs and the French doors. Black hair worn slightly shaggy, a square, rugged face, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses.
“What are you doing here? This is private property. Didn’t you see the gate across the road?”
“I’m sorry. I climbed over the gate. I bought the Graeters’ house, up by the road about eight months ago. I’m an artist.” He held up a large sketchbook and wooden box she hadn’t noticed before.
“This is just about the only place a fella can get down to the lake near here. I’m afraid I’ve been coming down here to sketch. The dock, the beach, even I’m afraid, your deck. The sunsets are marvelous here. Marty…Mr. Van Scoyk said you lived in the city and didn’t come up very much. I’m afraid I sort of took advantage of the situation. Forgive me, please.”
Those full lips parted into a shy, boyish grin as he pulled off his glasses. Granite colored eyes, dark, intense mirrored that grin.
Elgin felt her initial fright melting like spring snow.
“It’s all right,” she managed, “really. You surprised me, that’s all. I…well, I didn’t expect you.”
“At least let me help you clean up the mess.” He took another step toward her.
“There’s no need,” she told him quickly. “It’s just coffee and most of it will just go through the deck spacers.”
“I feel terrible,” he told her quietly. “You could have burned yourself. Or cut yourself. Fallen over and broken your neck. It would be a shame for anything to happen to such a lovely neck.”
For a moment, Elgin had that giddy roller coaster dropping sensation that leaves you breathless and lightheaded. Terrifying and exhilarating all at once. His very presence raised goosebumps of excitement and prickles of something she couldn’t quite name.
Color raced to her cheeks and she bent down quickly, pretending to concentrate on the smashed fragments of mug. Even squatting down beside her, she felt overwhelmed and small, not just by his size but by his being there, so close she could feel the softness of his navy blue flannel shirt as his arm brushed against her.
“Well, I think that’s all of them,” she commented, trying to regain her composure as they stood up again.
“Here, let me have those,” he insisted, taking the heavy ceramic pieces from her and cupping them in his own large, strong hands. “Show me where the garbage is so we can get rid of these.”
“You don’t really…”
“Yes, I must really. Soft, lovely hands like those shouldn’t do anything more strenuous than peel the occasional grape. And since it’s my fault the mug got broken, if anyone deserves to bleed, it’s me.”
“All right, if you insist.”
“I do.”
In the kitchen, he deposited the pieces in the garbage pail under the sink.
“Well, I think that about takes care of everything,” he smiled. “I’ll get out of your hair now and, much as I enjoy sketching from here, I promise to stay on my side of the fence. Cross my heart. And I really am sorry about scaring you. If I’d known the house belonged to such a lovely lady, I would have arrived on your doorstep with roses and champagne instead of barging in with big feet and sketch book.”
That smile seemed to wrap itself around her.
“Don’t worry. I’m usually not so jumpy. I guess I haven’t shed my big city nerves yet.”
“Well, I’m usually not so unbelievably boorish. It’s just this is such a terrific place to come and work. The light. The view. The peace and quiet.
“The first day I found it, I actually did come to the door and knock but the place seemed to be empty so I went down and sat on the dock. In no time, I found myself here almost every day. Like something pulling me back. I’m going to miss it.”
“There’s no reason you can’t come down and sketch,” she smiled. “I’m usually out walking or on the lake or even upstairs working. No reason we can’t share the place.”
“That’s very kind of you. I’d like to come back. Maybe now that I know the owner, I could even get you to open the gate so I can drive down. Bring my easel and paints and do some real painting. Try for one of those gorgeous sunsets. Or something else of great beauty.”
“I think that can be arranged. I’d love to see your work.”
“Well, I’ve got my sketchbook. Charcoals mostly, but a lot of this place. I’d like for you to see them.”
“Good. How ‘bout I get us some more coffee and you can show me what you have.”
“Ahoy there!”
Elgin peered over the railing in the direction of the hail. Marty stepped on to her dock, the mooring line of a small sailboat, in hand.
“Ahoy, Marty,” she called back, waving and smiling. She watched him secure the boat and thread his delicate way to the deck.
“Oh.” His voice, face and body registered surprise at the sight of the strange man sitting so close beside his friend, a sketchbook open on the table in front of them.
“I…uh…hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“Of course not, Marty,” she assured him, getting up and exchanging hugs and kisses on the cheek. “I’m always delighted to see you. Marty Van Scoyk, this is Chad Comstock. Chad, Marty.”
“We’ve spoken at your mercantile, Mr. Van Scoyk,” Chad smiled as he stood and extended his hand.
“Marty, please,” he replied with an unenthusiastic shake. “Mr. Van Scoyk was my father. And yes, I remember you now. Bought a place up here about a year ago.”
“The Graeters house, yes, eight months ago.”
“Sit down,” she pushed him toward a chair. “Can I get you some coffee?”
“No, no, I’m not staying. Actually, I would have called if you had a phone like normal people but since you don’t and you keep that damn gate locked, I had to bring the little boat up here. If you’re not going to have civilized communication up here, the least you could do would be to dredge out a channel big enough for me to bring the motor runabout up. It takes absolutely hours by sail.”
“It takes less than forty minutes from your dock to mine,” she teased. “And one of the reasons I come up here is to get away from telephones. Not to mention that I love having you come to visit. Now come sit down and have some coffee and look at these wonderful sketches Chad does.”
“I really can’t stay.”
“You can spare me enough of your valuable time for a cup of coffee,” she continued. “And I think you really ought to look at these sketches. I think they’d be a wonderful item for you to carry in the mercantile. Original, one-of-a-kind sketches of the lake, signed by the artist? You know as well as I do that these Yuppie tourists would eat them up with a spoon. You could have a whole display on that back wall where you keep all your other overpriced tourist crap.”
“Well, maybe just half a cup. And I suppose I could look through the sketches. You know I absolutely adore art.”
He’d made a complete circuit of the property, moving silently through the heavy pine forest along the rocky shoreline to a barbed wire fence where her property ended just short of Eagle Point, following it up to the top of her property, across the gated road and down to the other end. Hiking back toward the house, he felt surer than ever that he’d stumbled onto the perfect layout for his snare.
The first detector would be at the gate. A young man, athletic and determined would have no trouble getting over the gate but there he’d have no place to leave a vehicle on the main road or anywhere along this road. Anyone arriving, would have to leave his or her car at the gate and proceed on foot.
Where the fence had been cut into the forest, a narrow band of scrub oak, thorny weeds and man-high Poison Oak bushes had taken over making the barbed wire doubly difficult to get over or through. Still, he’d make sure that detectors were positioned on each side of the road, just in case his quarry had an adventurous streak.
He’d seen nothing on either side of the barbed wire fence on each side of her property but thick pine forest. Following his exchange of e-mails on his PDA late the preceding night, he knew the agency was busily running down all the information he needed about the owners of the adjacent property and Martin Van Scoyk. When he turned on his mini-computer at the appointed hour tonight, he’d be able to download that information and give detailed instructions for the motion detectors’ placement.
That left only the lake itself.
Except for the little sandy patch and dock in front of Moon’s End, there didn’t seem to be anywhere a person could bring a boat, even a small one, ashore. The trees grew down to the shoreline; in most places the bank had eroded to sharp, almost vertical bluffs. A strong, determined swimmer in a wetsuit against the cold water might make it and he’d picked a couple of potential landing sites for detectors, but only to cover all bases.
A motion detector would be placed just where the dock met the land and in a tree overlooking the little stretch of sand. Several in strategic places around the house and the electronic trap would be set.
Of course, he’d have to get her out of the house for most of a day so that his people could come in and set things up. Perhaps a day’s hike to show him the land. Or a picnic. Or even a day spent sightseeing on that ridiculous little boat. Whatever, it would have to be done in the next day or two. As soon as he received word that the men and equipment were ready.
Harm heard the laughter even before he emerged from the trees into the parking lot. Not just Elgin’s warm, feminine laugh but a deeper, baritone guffaw. Sprinting just short of a run, he heard unfamiliar voices as he closed the distance to the deck.
“So anyway, I said, ‘Well what did you expect, Bill? Didn’t I always tell you never trust a woman with a big mouth?’” Gales of laughter met him as he reached the deck, stopping dead at the sight before him.
Elgin, the little gay guy from the mercantile and a large stranger sat around the table, coffee cups and a half-empty tray of breakfast pastry in front of them. The man sat next to her, the arms of their chairs touching, his arm draped casually over the back of her chair.
“Hmm…hmm,” he cleared his throat.
Immediately, the laughter died away and all eyes turned nervously to him. He flashed back to his days as a beat cop, catching couples in parked cars. Anger and something else flickered inside.
“Oh, Camp, I didn’t know you were back.” Her face turned beet red and she could barely look at him.
“Hmmmp,” he grunted.
“Camp, you remember Marty Van Scoyk from the mercantile?” Her voice fairly quivered with anxiety. “Marty, my…my secretary, Campbell Harm.”
“Mr. Harm.”
“Hmmmp.”
“And this is Chad Comstock. He’s one of my neighbors from up the road. He’s an artist. He’s been using the place to do some wonderful sketches of the lake.” She pointed nervously to a large sketchbook on the other side of the table.
“In fact, Marty liked them so much, he’s going to put them up for sale in the mercantile. I think I might like to have a couple for the cabin.”
Comstock stood up and extended his hand, a skin-deep smile flashing. “Harm, nice to meet you.”
“Hmmmp,” punctuated this time by a single shake.
“Would you like some coffee?” she offered, “or a bear claw? You must be famished after your walk. You’ve been gone for ages.”
They stared at each other for several long, uncomfortable moments. Finally, Marty roused himself.
“Well, I really must be running along,” he told them, rising to his feet. “I’ve got absolutely tons of work to do and I have to spend the afternoon babysitting with Byron. You won’t forget now, will you Elgin darling?”
“No, Marty, you can count on it.”
“Good. Well, ciao everyone.” Turning, he stumbled right into Harm who took a single step to his left to allow the little man to make his escape. Harm watched him trundle quickly down to the dock, untie the little boat, set sail and turn for home.
The shallow water around the dock rippled and the sailboat didn’t make any noise as it maneuvered nimbly back toward the lake. He filed it in his brain under ‘potentially useful information.’ Then he turned back to the stranger.
“Well, I guess I better be getting along, too,” he announced, reaching for his book and box. “I’ve got a lot of things I need to do and I’ve gabbed the morning light away.”
“I’m sorry,” she told him, gazing up into his face. “I feel bad for keeping you from your work.”
Comstock smiled; a genuine smile this time. “I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed myself more. And now that I know I’m welcome, you’ll probably get tired of having me around.”
She laughed again, a warm sound filled with real joy. Harm felt his stomach tighten and his mouth turn down even further.
“I’m sure that won’t happen. Feel free to bring your easel and oils down anytime. Maybe if I’m nice to the artist, he’ll give me a break on a sunset painting for the fireplace.”
“Consider it done.”
They hung there for a moment more, her face turned up to his, their lips only a few inches apart.
Harm plopped down in the chair, still warm from the little man’s butt and reached for a pastry. The spell shattered and the moment passed.
“Well, I’ll see you later, Elgin,” Comstock told her reluctantly. “Goodbye. Oh, and goodbye to you, too, Harm.”
“Mmbllemm,” he answered, raising his hand.
“Goodbye, Chad.”
She stood at the top of the steps and watched until he disappeared up the drive. Enraged, she turned on Harm.
“How…dare…you!” she snarled.
“Me?” he managed after a slug of left over coffee washed down the pastry.
“Yes ‘you.’ I can’t believe even you’d be that rude to my guests. That was utterly unforgivable, even for a crude, selfish lout like you. You practically chased them away physically.”
“Yeah, well, what did you expect? You keep forgetting that my job is to keep you from being killed by a guy who may have already committed one murder and who tried to run you down in the street. So what do I get for my pains? Appreciation? Cooperation? Shit no! All I get is attitude.
“Not only are you a pain in the ass, you’re a stupid pain in the ass in the bargain. You wander away in a strange town without telling me where you’re going. You won’t wear a simple little homing device so I can keep track of your skinny little ass without having to put a leash on you. And then, after I take my life in my hands to go out in the woods to make sure there’s no one waiting for you with an axe, I come back and find you cheerfully coffee-klatching with your friendly neighborhood gay and a guy you never laid eyes on before!”
“Chad is not a stalker.”
“Oh? And you know this for a fact?” Harm’s voice dripped acid and ice.
“He’s much too…too nice, too normal to do anything like that.”
“When the police were hauling body bags out of John Wayne Gacy’s basement, his neighbors stood across the street and couldn’t believe that ‘nice, normal’ guy was a sexual sadist and a murderer. Trust me, if guys looked like stalkers and rapists and murderers, Ted Bundy wouldn’t have racked up eighty kills.”
Her body froze then, the color draining away from her face, her lower lip curling over her teeth. He didn’t need to see her eyes behind her sunglasses. He could feel the fear and uncertainty. Like so many times lately, without a word, she’d made his rage boil away to embarrassed sorrow.
“I…I hadn’t thought of that,” she whispered, dropping heavily into a chair beside him. “I have to admit he did frighten me when he first showed up out of nowhere. But he’s no nice and an artist and we have a lot of things in common and…and he’s been up here a lot longer than this…this person’s been stalking me. I’ve never met him before. We don’t know any of the same people. It…it just couldn’t be…”
“Look, I’m sorry I growled at you. And you’re probably right. He’s probably just what he seems to be. Only please promise me you’ll be a little more careful? This job is tough enough without you inviting home strays. Okay?”
She smiled then and Harm felt lighter.
“Okay,” she agreed, reaching under her shirt and producing the pendant. “See? I’m wising up already.”
“Good,” he told her, his anger gone. “Maybe we can get through this summer in one piece after all.”
“Ellie!” he cried, scooping her up in his arms like a child and spinning her around.
“Jim.” They exchanged warm hugs and a kiss that seemed to Harm a little too long and a little too enthusiastic.
“Let me look at you.” He set her down and took her in from head to toe.
“My God but you just get prettier every time I see you.”
“Thanks, Jim,” she laughed, putting her fingers on his huge forearm. “It’s nice of you to say, even if it isn’t so. But you look terrific. I think you’ve lost a few pounds since last year.”
“Put on some during the winter. Always do when things slow down but now that the tourist season is here I drop it and then some. Nothing like hard work to keep a body fit.” He paused and surveyed her again.
“God but it’s good to see you again. When Marty called and told me you were back up at Moon’s End and that you wanted to rent a boat to go out on the lake, I got number eight ready myself. Packed the cooler with hard cola although you watch it. A little alcohol and a lot of sun can be a mighty dangerous combination.”
“Don’t worry, Jim,” she told him playfully. “You know I never have more than two at a time. And anyway, I brought along company.”
Turning, she nodded to Harm standing behind her about three feet.
“Jim Fisher, this is my secretary, Campbell Harm. Camp, this is one of my oldest and dearest friends, Jim Fisher. My aunt and uncle used to bring me up here every summer for a couple of weeks. Jim practically adopted me.”
Harm stuck out his hand and it disappeared in the huge paw. “Camp, please,” he panted as the vice closed on his fingers.
“And I’m Jim,” he replied good-naturedly.
“Glad to meet you.”
Massive leapt to Harm’s mind. At least three inches taller than his own six foot two, a whiskey keg head, bare but for a steel gray buzz cut, black eyes like gun ports in the rock hard battlement of his long, square face. The eagle beak bent slightly to the right and a telltale lump on the bridge told of at least one break. Full lips, even pulled up in the delight of seeing Elgin gave him a hint of hardness. A heavyweight’s body, all broad shoulders and muscular arms, callused, scarred hands, legs like tree trunks, stretching the denim of his jeans seemingly to the breaking point.
“Jim taught me to sail and water ski and fish,” she continued brightly, squeezing Fisher around the middle. “Even bait my own hook. Also gave me my first hard cola and taught me to slow dance. Remember?”
“Fourth a July,” he responded almost wistfully. “year you turned fifteen. And I didn’t give you that cola; you stole it while I was talking to Dolly Biggs.”
He grinned down at her and then at Harm. “Scrawniest little kid you ever saw. Tomboy. All bony elbows and skinned knees.”
The rugged face softened and he ran a finger lightly down her cheek. “Summer you were twelve, you were a barefoot kid in raggedy cutoff jeans, swingin’ from the trees and shaggin’ flies in the outfield. Next summer, you were sportin’ boobs and sandals and worryin’ about the freckles on your nose. Seems like yesterday.”
“I don’t even want to think about that long ago,” she laughed. “But I still do freckle.”
“And they’re still cute as the Dickens,” Jim told her, planting a quick peck on her nose. “But you didn’t come all the way up here to hang around reminiscing with this old fart. Boat should be ready by now.”
Turning back toward the end of the dock, Fisher shaded his eyes and squinted.
“Yo,” he called.
About a hundred feet away, a figure shuffled toward them, waving his hands and seeming to be engaged in an animated conversation with the air. At the sound, he paused, looking quizzically to each side and behind him. Fisher raised a giant hand and motioned him forward.
“That’s Tom,” he explained. “Don’t know his last name. Showed up about three weeks ago askin’ could he work for some food. Looked like a skinny stray dog so I told him to go on up to the snack bar and get a burger and fries and coke but he told me he wouldn’t take nothin’ less he worked for it. Well, I know what it’s like to have nothin’ but your pride so I told him to get a broom and kinda sweep up. Few minutes later he comes back and tells me he saw a outboard engine and if he fixed it, could he get somethin’ to eat and stay the night.
“I knew that engine couldn’t be fixed. Gonna strip it down for parts. But I figured it’d give the old guy somethin’ to do for a couple hours and then he could eat without feelin’ guilty so I said, ‘sure.’ Well, in about three hours he had that thing purrin’ like a contented kitten at its mother’s tit.
“Told him if he wanted to stay on for the summer, he could use the spare room out back a the boathouse and I’d feed him and give him walkin’ around money ‘til Labor Day. Only rules are no booze, no drugs, no women, and be polite to the customers. Talks to himself and I got a feelin’ he’s about two deuces shy of a full deck but he keeps to himself pretty much, nobody’s complained and he knows more about engines than anybody I ever saw, includin’ me.”
“Yes sir, Mr. F?” the old man croaked as he sidled up to his boss.
“Number eight ready?”
“Sure is. Just put the poles an’ bait in myself. Tank’s full an’ she’s rarin’ to go.”
Fisher gave Elgin a last squeeze. “Bring in whatever you catch. I’ll build a camp fire out back and roll ‘em in corn meal and pan fry ‘em in butter.”
“With greasy homemade French fries, and corn on the cob baked in aluminum foil in the fire, and pork and beans?” Harm thought she sounded like a delighted child.
“And fresh strawberry shortcake with extra whipped cream if you eat all your dinner.”
“Oh,” she squealed, “an old fashioned fish fry. Just like old times.”
“Just like old times,” he agreed softly. “But right now, you and your friend better git or those lake trout’ll all be home for their afternoon nap.”
He held out his hand again. “Nice to meet you, Camp. You take good care of my Ellie.”
“I’ll do that, Jim.”
They followed Tom down the wooden dock, listening as he continued muttering and mumbling to himself.
“Well, here she is,” he announced gesturing to a sleek white and blue runabout, perhaps fifteen feet long with a deep “V” nose, open with cushioned seating.
“Doesn’t look much like a fishing boat,” Harm commented as he surveyed her.
“Ain’t,” the old man replied. “Just about the fastest little critter we got. Most folks rent it ta ski er ta go ta that gamblin’ den ‘cross the lake. Little outboards is fer fishin’.”
“Well, eight has always been my lucky number,” Elgin laughed. “And it’s nice to have if we decide we don’t want to fish anymore.”
His thin shoulders went up and down once. “Suit yerselves.”
Harm stepped into the boat, helping Elgin aboard and then sliding automatically into the driver’s chair, putting both hands on the wheel and turning it a couple of times.
“So, where to?”
“If you’ll get out of my seat,” she told him coolly, “I’ll show you.”
He stared at her, blinking, mouth open. Elgin thought he looked like a surprised guppy. It took a couple of seconds for her meaning to sink in.
“Your seat?”
“Of course. I know this lake like the back of my hand.”
His fingers tightened on the wheel.
“You can tell me where to go.”
“I intend to,” she shot back, “but after you move so I can take us to the fishing spot.”
“I got us up here following your directions. I think I can navigate this lake.”
“Look, I’m not attacking your manhood, just your lack of experience with this lake. I’ve been boating up here since I was ten. It makes sense that I should drive the boat.”
A loud guffaw made them turn back to the dock. Tom stood, mooring line in his bony hand, laughing heartily.
“You two sound just like old married people,” he said between chuckles. “Squabblin’ an’ bickerin’ and carryin’ on. You best put yer jacket on an’ move young fella. You ain’t gonna be in this boat ferever an’ when it gets cold tonight, you might want her ta do you a favor.” He dissolved into more laughter as the rope landed in the open bow and he moved away.
Without another word, Harm cranked up the engine and edged slowly away from the dock. At the entrance to the little marina, he turned a questioning face to Elgin.
Frowning, she pointed to their left. As soon as he cleared the marina, Harm opened the boat up, feeling the cool spray and the slight bounce of the hull under them.
“Where are we going?” he shouted over the engine.
“To the lee of that little island out there.” He followed her outstretched arm to a barren piece of rock sticking out of the sapphire water a few miles away.
In a few more minutes they’d anchored a few yards from the island.
“Welcome to Captain Jack’s,” she told as she pulled off her skimpy tank top and shorts. “Best fishing on the lake. But first things first.”
Harm felt his lungs intake and his heart speed up at the sight of her. Creamy white skin and a small but thoroughly respectable fire engine red two-piece swimsuit that covered her only enough to show her body to its best advantage.
His cock stirred, demanding he slip out of his jeans and T-shirt to the freedom of his own swim trunks. They too were respectable but would probably not cover his growing…interest in her.
“Could you reach into the cooler for me, please? There should be a pint bottle of whiskey in there.”
Dutifully, Harm opened the cooler and sure enough, tucked in the corner sat a small whiskey bottle. He reached in and handed it to her.
“Is this thing waterproof?” she asked, holding the pendant away from her skin.
“To about a hundred feet deep,” he answered, handing her the bottle, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Why?”
“Don’t want your high tech dog collar electrocuting me.”
She moved to the side of the boat, the bottle clutched in her fist.
“Hey,” he yelped, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m going up to the top of the island to pay my respects to Captain Jack.” Nodding to the island, she continued. “There used to be a little wooden dock but now…well, it’s the old fashioned paddle method.”
“You can’t swim over there,” he insisted, moving quickly to where she stood. “That water’s freezing and you’ll kill yourself getting up that sheer rock.”
“Lot you know. I’ve been doing this forever. The water’s cold but it’s only about twenty yards to shore and there’s a path that winds up the other side. It’s a little steep but by no means treacherous.”
“What does this have to do with fishing?”
“It’s hard to explain. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
Elgin sighed. “Please just take my word for it that it’s important. I’ll be back before you get the lines in the water.”
“You’re not going anywhere until you tell me.”
“All right, but you better sit down and get comfortable. Might even want to get a beer. It’s a long story.”
With a nod, he turned back and reached for the cooler lid again.
Splash!
By the time he’d stepped back to the side, she was already swimming quickly for shore, her strokes and kick strong, barely disturbing the surface as she moved.
“Come back here, damn it!” he yelled futilely.
For another second he watched her, stripping off his jeans and shirts as fast as he could. He braced himself for the cold as he jumped into the dark water after her.
An instant of body-numbing cold engulfed him as he plunged under the water, the shock literally taking his breath away. Breaking the surface again, his lungs frantically gulped in air and it took several more moments for him to gather himself and set out after her.
With the slight head start and her swimming skill, Elgin came out of the water, threw a quick look behind her and disappeared around a rocky outcropping.
Panting from the cold and the unexpected exertion, Harm had to stop for a few seconds on the little beach to catch his breath.
Beyond the little point, a path wide enough for a small cart began winding up the side of the small island. He couldn’t see her but her tracks were clear in the layer of fine dust over the compacted surface of the trail.
Rounding a sharp bend, he found himself at the top of the island, perhaps a hundred feet above the sparkling water.
Elgin stood beside a large gray boulder lying like a huge block by itself in the middle of a large clearing. Other boulders lay strewn around and on the right side of clearing, almost at the cliff’s edge, stood a huge pile of jumbled gray boulders, almost as if some giant had heaped them there.
“What the hell is…?” he barked as he approached.
“…and to show our gratitude,” she murmured softly, “I leave this small token for your patience and good will.” With a twist of the cap, she put out her hand and poured the smoky amber liquid on the top of the stone, pooling and running off both sides.
“Rest in peace Captain Jack. And thank you.” Elgin shook the last few drops out, replaced the top and turned to face Harm.
“It’s cold. Let’s go sit over here in the sun.”
They walked over to the pile of rocks, Harm feeling again slightly amazed, first at her swimming ability and now as she climbed over the large rocks to a flat one, warmed by the sun and overlooking the water, by her athleticism.
“Now do I get to hear the story?” He no longer felt anger. Only curiosity and a chill. The sun would take care of one; he waited for her to take care of the second.
“There lies Captain John Crockett, late of the Grand Army of the Republic. Gambler, entrepreneur, father of Crockett’s Landing, now known as West Shore and, if local legend is to be believed, drunkard, womanizer and general, all-around scoundrel.
“Came here penniless during the gold rush. Apparently didn’t take long for him to decide taking the gold from the miners would be easier than panning for it himself. So, he opened the first gambling hall/saloon/whorehouse in the area. Became known for honest tables, clean women, and not watering the beer. Overnight, he was the richest man in the territory.
“For twenty years, he was King of the Lake. Nothing happened, big or small, for fifty miles around that Jack Crockett didn’t have his hand in. Had a huge mansion overlooking Crockett’s Landing. Built a little castle right where we’re sitting and this island became his private playground. Every Fourth of July he’d load up ‘The Belle’ with beer and food and fireworks and he and his family and cronies would come out here and party.
“Rumor also had it that he liked to bring ladies not his wife out here for private picnics and nature frolics.”
“Sounds like he had it made.”
“Most people thought so. Then, one night the people in Spirit Cove saw fire coming from the castle. At first, they thought Jack was over here having a little moonlight fun, but pretty soon they realized something was really wrong. By the time they got out here, the castle was ablaze and there wasn’t anything they could do.
“They found Jack’s body, au natural, right over there, near that big rock in the clearing. His head had been blown off by a double barrel shotgun at close range. Only other thing they found was a scrap of lace from a lady’s unmentionable snagged on a bush down by where the dock used to be.”
“Died with his boots off,” Harm chuckled.
Elgin ignored him. “No one ever found out what happened although the stories flew fast and fierce. Most people thought he’d run afoul of a jealous husband or an angry father and pretty much got what he deserved.”
“What about his family?”
“Mrs. Crockett never actually said anything but she made it clear enough what she thought, though. First, she buried Jack right here on the island. Almost the exact spot where he died. Took ten men to move that big old granite boulder over his grave. Only marker she gave him. Then she sold everything he owned for whatever cash she could get, took the children and disappeared.”
“Doesn’t explain the whiskey.”
“Most local people avoid this place like the plague. Down through the years, people have even claimed to have seen Jack’s ghost up here, wandering through these ruins of his castle, imprisoned for all eternity for his black deeds.”
“You believe that superstitious clap-trap?” he asked cynically.
“About the ghost? I’m not sure. I mean, I don’t have enough evidence one way or the other to make a rational decision. I do believe firmly that the soul or the spirit or the life force or whatever you want to call it survives this plane of existence although what happens after, I haven’t the faintest idea.
“Jim always told me that since people can be trapped in this life by their decisions and beliefs and acts, it didn’t seem all that far-fetched to think a person’s soul could be trapped by the same things in the hereafter. If Jack believed he deserved to be imprisoned here because he’d screwed some other man’s woman, or that he’d hurt his own wife and family or even that this is heaven or hell and he never made any effort to get off…well…it’s just complicated.
“So whenever we came here, Jim always brought some whiskey. ‘A neighborly gesture’ he called it. Let Jack know we weren’t trespassing and that we’d appreciate being left alone and to pay him for the fish we took.”
“That is the silliest, stupidest, most ridiculous crock of bull I ever heard.”
Before she could answer, a cold gust of wind whipped up, seeming to circle around them from out of nowhere.
Elgin shivered and stood up. “Come on. Let’s get out here.” She scampered off the rocks, Harm following her quickly down the path and back into the water toward the boat. He remembered thinking that the water seemed colder than it had when he’d first jumped in.
Climbing into the boat, they grabbed towels and began rubbing themselves dry.
“That’s better,” she told him when she’d finished. “I’m going to put my pole in the water and see how long it takes to catch my limit.”
“Sounds good.”
“I wouldn’t bother if I were you,” she chuckled. “After the way you pissed Jack off up there, I don’t think you’re going to have any luck at all.”
“A coincidence,” Harm insisted flatly, taking another sip of his coffee. “That’s all. End of story.”
Elgin and Fisher exchanged quick, knowing glances.
“I dunno,” Jim replied thoughtfully, stroking his chin stubble with his long fingers. “Sounds to me like Ellie could be right. I mean about you pissin’ Captain Jack off like that. Talkin’ so disrespectful right there in his castle, practically on top a his grave. That wind comin’ up when there hasn’t been a breath all day and then you not catchin’ any trout in the best fishin’ spot in the lake.”
“Not even a bite,” Elgin chimed in giggling.
“Well, doesn’t sound natural to me,” he concluded.
Harm continued to sip his coffee and glanced out to the vast black expanse of lake and listened to the other two laughing and talking.
Coming in from the lake, Elgin had run right to Fisher, showing him her creel packed with the limit of beautiful lake trout and losing no time in spinning her ghost story. They’d laughed about it as he’d gutted and cleaned the fish for her, bringing them down to this gorgeous spot by the lake as he’d made a campfire and prepared their dinner.
He had to admit that the fresh trout, French fries made right at the fire, baked corn on the cob, and even the canned pork and beans had been a wonderful meal. Strawberries fresh from a neighbor’s garden and heavy cream whipped by hand and not out of an aerosol can had completed the perfection.
Now, under a canopy of stars sprinkled like powdered sugar and a second cup of fresh coffee, he could almost forget the humiliation of the afternoon. And he could understand Elgin’s need to flee here to this peaceful, safe place.
“Moon’ll be up in a little while,” Fisher commented, looking toward the east. “Full too. Air’ll be full a souls tonight.”
“What do you mean by that?” Harm asked, instantly interested.
“Didn’t you tell this slicker anything?” Jim teased Elgin.
“What’s the point?” she sighed wearily. “He doesn’t believe in things like that. He’s thoroughly modern and scientific.”
“Which makes me all the more curious about your primitive superstitions.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want to hamper your scientific research,” she giggled.
“You go on and tell him, Ellie. You can explain it better than this poor old, ignorant hillbilly.”
They both laughed and Harm felt the pang of an outsider barred from some kind of “inside” joke.
“The Indians who lived around the lake and traveled by canoe and fished and traded, noticed that when people drowned, especially out in the very deepest parts, the bodies never came back up. They believed the drowning victims had actually been snatched up and enslaved by an evil monster who lived at the bottom of the lake.
“Because the lake’s dark and cold, the prisoners couldn’t find their way to the next world and the Great Spirit wept for his children lost to the monster. Finally, he had an idea. In the summer, when the days were long and the air warm, he asked the Full Moon Goddess to travel over the lake, laying down a path of silvery light to slice through the darkness down to the monster’s lair so that the souls could follow it.
“She said she’d try and so, after a long summer day, while the monster slept, she crept across the lake, marking a wide, bright silver trail. The souls saw it and began following it silently up, finally reaching the lake’s surface. On the shore, the Indians saw the wispy, gray spirits moving along the water until they were gradually picked up and taken to the next world by the Full Moon Goddess.
“When the first white men came here and heard the story, they didn’t believe it. They were camped at a little beach and one night they sat up with the Indians, and sure enough, they saw the Moon Goddess collecting the souls from the lake and began calling it ‘Haunted Moon Lake’. And since there seemed to be an awful lot of activity in the water just off from their camp, they called it ‘Spirit Cove’.”
Harm snorted. “The lake is very deep and very cold. I’m sure that when someone drowned, especially in the really deep part, the body didn’t decompose and release gases and therefore, didn’t come back up to the surface. And the ‘spirits’ on the lake are nothing more than foggy mist created by warm air on a cold lake. An interesting tale to tell the tourists around the camp fire.”
“You’re a pathetic cynic,” she told him, trying to be serious but already past her two hard cola limit.
“And you’re drunk. I think it’s time to take you home.”
Elgin stuck out her tongue and made a raspberry.
“Camp’s right,” Fisher agreed rising to his feet and pulling her up with him. “You’re tanked and it’s past my bed time.”
“What a pair of party poops you are.”
“Yeah, well tomorrow is another day young lady, and we have the whole summer.”
“Poops,” she retorted, throwing out her lower lip in a childish pout. “The pair of you. Poops.”
Fisher and Harm took a place on each side of her and guided her gently back to the SUV. Carefully, they got her buckled securely into her seat.
“Good night, Camp,” he beamed. “You come back real soon. I’ll give Ellie another bottle of whiskey and you can stay in the boat, sorta hunkered down where Jack can’t see ya. Catch yer limit the next time.”
“Okay, Jim, you got a deal. Good night.”
As he moved around to the driver’s side, Ellie rolled down the window and reached out to the big man like a small child. “I had a wonderful time, Jim,” she told him. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been this happy.”
“That’s what I want,” he whispered, leaning his face close to hers, brushing a wisp of hair from her forehead. “That’s what I’ve always wanted. Since you were a little girl.”
She stretched up and put her lips on his, feeling the warmth of his body and the prickle of stubble and the tang of Irish Coffee.
“I love you, Jim,” she mumbled.
“I love you too, Ellie.”
“Let’s stop at the Lodge for a nightcap,” she suggested brightly.
“It’s late. You should be in bed.”
“It’s the shank of the evening and I don’t want to go to bed.”
“What happened to your ‘two hard cola limit’?”
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah, well I’m exhausted. I’ve had a lot of sun, a lot of exercise, a lot of good food and more than my share of beer. I need to go to bed.”
“Good. You’re no fun anyway. You can drop me at the Lodge. I’ll call Marty. Unlike certain other people I could name, he is definitely not a poop.”
“Okay, lean back, close your eyes and rest. We’ll be at the Lodge in about ten minutes.”
“Now you’re talking.”
She was fast asleep by the time he reached the gate. Turning the wheels to the right, he set the emergency brake and put the SUV in “Park.” Quietly, he opened the door and slid out, striding quickly to the gate.
The full moon peeked through the trees, giving him enough light to walk and find the gate chain. Concentrating on the gate and the ground as he walked it inward, Harm didn’t hear anything until the wheel crunched on the gravel behind him.
Looking up, horror washed over him as the SUV rolled down the hill toward him. Pete’s mangled body flashed through his mind. This vehicle wasn’t moving at break-neck speed, but its nose pointed downhill just a few feet away. He had neither time nor space to maneuver.
Without thinking, he darted behind the gate, stepping back as far as he could, pulling the heavy metal gate to his chest.
As the car rolled past him, gaining speed, he saw Elgin, her head resting to one side, still asleep.
The instant the car passed him, he bolted across the narrow road, racing to catch up with it. Somehow, the driver’s door had swung shut and the big vehicle picked up speed as it gained downward momentum. And just beyond them a few hundred feet, the road made a sharp curve. Traveling straight would put it into the thick forest just beyond the road. If that happened, even with her seatbelt on…
A surge of adrenaline pumped through him, prodding him to more speed.
He pulled even with the driver’s door, catching his fingers under the handle and jerking it open, losing his balance and almost tripping. If he fell now, he would almost certainly be caught under the back wheels.
Barely hanging on, Harm jumped into the driver’s seat, grabbing the wheel with one hand, stomping on the brake and forcing the gearshift into “park.”
Unable to get a grip in the loose gravel, the anti-lock brakes struggled as the SUV slid toward the shallow drainage ditch, transmission whining in protest. Slipping and bumping, it finally came to rest, the front end about forty-five degrees to the left, the engine stalled.
Shaken rudely back to consciousness, Elgin sat up, blinked groggy eyes and looked around. “What happened?”
“It’s all right,” he lied, gripping the wheel with sweaty palms and forcing his voice to remain calm. “I got out to open the gate and I guess I didn’t set the brake right. Car rolled down the hill a little. Stomped on the brakes too hard and kind of fishtailed in this gravel. Everything’s okay now.”
Taking a deep breath, he restarted the car and they drove the rest of the way in silence.
“You go on up and go to bed,” he told her, “I just want to check and make sure everything’s all right.”
“Okay. Good night.”
“Good night.”
With Elgin safely in the house, Harm turned on the overhead light, illuminating the interior of the car. The emergency brake lay flat against the console. Except that he’d pulled it upright when he’d set it before getting out of the SUV to open the gate. And he’d had to jam the gearshift from “Drive” back into “Park” to stop the car. Except that he’d left the car in “Park.” Having turned the wheels to the right, even if both the gear and the brake had failed, the SUV should have rolled into the ditch after only a few feet, the driver’s side door remaining open.
The realization sent a cold chill through his body, and he shivered.
He was here, and Harm had been careless enough to let him get within striking distance of both of them. Lulled by the peaceful beauty and tranquil surroundings, he’d let down his guard and Elgin had almost paid the price for his blunder.
But he’d tipped his hand. Tomorrow, under the pretext of taking the car in to be checked for damage, he’d make sure his forensics people gave it a good going over. A fingerprint. A stray hair, fiber sample. Anything that might give them a clue. And he’d personally search the area by the gate. A footprint, a cigarette butt. Anything that didn’t belong.
Yes, the stalker was here. But now, he was in Harm’s Way.