Hannah chuffed out a breath. “We better not be stuck out here so long that we’re tempted to eat dog food.”
She twisted the cap off a bottle of water and took a few swallows, then unfolded the mylar blanket and spread it on the ground. Sitting cross-legged on the blanket, she slipped a sweatshirt over her head. Hannah was wearing shorts and her legs were bare.
“How about you try to get some rest?” I suggested. “I’m wide awake. I’ll take watch.” I dug in my backpack, grabbed the sweatshirt, and pulled it over my light jacket. With my long pants, I’d be warm enough. “Do you want to lie down?”
Hannah curled on her side, resting her head on her elbow. I shook out my thermal blanket and spread it over her. She shivered, probably more from fear than actual cold.
“We’re going to be fine.” I tucked the blanket under her legs. “We have everything we need to survive and we’re only a few miles from the house.”
Hannah nodded and squeezed her eyes shut. A minute later, her eyes flew open and met mine. “I bet Levi is freaking out.”
“I bet he is.” No point in denying it. “That means you need to rest up, so you’ll have the stamina to find your way home tomorrow.”
She nodded and closed her eyes again. After a while, the tension in her face relaxed, and she fell asleep.
I quietly took the folding knife from my backpack and opened it, exposing the blade. As a defensive weapon, it wasn’t much, but if a cougar or any other predator attacked, it was better than nothing. Putting my back against a tree trunk, I drew my knees to my chest and clutched the knife. The moon now rode high in the sky, casting a dim light over the landscape.
Ripper had told me how he’d trained himself to stay on the right side of consciousness while he stood watch, his mind and body relaxed, yet ready to instantly react to any threat. I dropped my eyelids into slits and willed my muscles to slacken, all while keeping my ears pricked for any suspicious sounds.
Ripper was probably standing watch right now, too. From their perch overlooking Valhalla, Ripper and Kyle were keeping an eagle eye on all the activities at the ranch. I sat up straight, my eyes wide open. Duh. I’d overlooked the obvious. Ripper and Kyle would see the vehicles return. They’d watch the brigade members march Sahdev across the property. Thank God. Even if Hannah and I managed to fall down into a gully, Ripper would know what happened to Sahdev, and he’d be planning a rescue.
I leaned back against the tree, weak with relief.
I half closed my eyes and tuned my ears to the sounds of the night. In the distance, coyotes yipped. Occasional gusts of wind stirred the branches above me. Tumbleweeds scuttered over the ground, propelled by the same breeze that made the branches dance. A twig snapped, and my hand tightened on the knife hilt. Holding my breath, I opened my eyes.
Hector ambled into view, a rabbit dangling from his jaws. The picture of nonchalance—absolutely unconcerned about the ruckus he’d stirred up—he dropped the bunny and stretched his hind legs, yawning.
Good dog. Job well done. At least as far as Hector was concerned.
You little shit. It’s a good thing I love you so much.
I patted my leg and Hector sauntered toward me. He plopped onto the ground and laid his head on my lap.
“Are you hungry, sweetheart?” I whispered. I took the baggie of dog food from the pack and dumped a cup onto the ground. While Hector chowed down, I cracked open one of the bottles of water and poured some into a collapsible camping bowl. He drank greedily, apparently parched after his little adventure. I refilled the bowl, then took a few sips from the bottle myself.
Sated, Hector stretched out on the thermal blanket next to Hannah, who flung an arm over his neck in her sleep. Hector was a good watchdog. If any animals approached, he would alert.
Collapsing against the tree trunk, I allowed the wave of exhaustion to drag me under. The sky was streaked with light when I woke up. I shuffled to the far side of the tree and peed, then stood and scanned the surrounding land. Nothing but sunbaked rolling hills as far as the eye could see.
“Kenzie.” Hannah sounded panicky.
“I’m here.”
I rounded the tree. Hanna was sitting up, scrubbing her hands over her face. Her gaze fell on Hector. “Where did you come from?” She hugged him, scritching his ruff. “Who’s a good boy?”
“That’s open for debate,” I said dryly.
I refilled Hector’s water bowl and gave him another serving of dry food. While he wolfed down his breakfast, I tore open a pouch of cherry vanilla granola and ate it dry. Hannah tasted the granola, made a face, and opted for a package of chocolate sandwich cookies.
After breakfast, we loaded our backpacks and prepared to set out. I held a compass flat on my hand and turned around until the magnetic needle pointed north. From a week spent at outdoor school, I vaguely remembered that there was a difference between true north and magnetic north, and you had to correct for declination. Too bad I hadn’t asked Miles for instructions on how to use a compass.
Hanna looked over my shoulder. “Which way is back to the road, or to the house?”
“Not a clue,” I confessed. “I’m directionally challenged. I can use a compass to make sure that we’re traveling in a straight line instead of in circles, but that’s about it.”
Relying on little more than a gut feeling, we decided to head northeast. After trudging up and down hills for more than an hour, I began to worry. You’d think we’d spy a building off in the distance, or stumble upon a fence line we could follow. Nothing. The land rose and fell, acres upon acres of parched, undulating hills.
When we stopped for a drink and a snack, Hannah sat on a large boulder, shaded her eyes, and peered off into the distance. She pointed. “Is that a road?”
I squinted in that direction. Maybe that thin furrow was a road, or maybe a path worn into the ground by cattle, or maybe nothing more than a trick of the eye. “Let’s check it out.”
We picked our way down a rocky slope, Hector at our heels. As we approached the mysterious line, our excitement grew. Hannah ran the last dozen yards. “It is a road!” She bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. “Hallelujah!”
A single lane wide, covered by a thin layer of gravel, it looked more like a very long driveway than any kind of road. It disappeared into the horizon in both directions. No matter. If it was a driveway, one way led to a house and the other way led to a real road. We’d find our way back to the road eventually, no matter which direction we selected first.
“Which way do you want to go?” I asked Hannah. “You found the road. You should pick.”
“Hmmm.” Hannah tapped her lip, then pointed to the right. “That way.”
We walked for about half an hour before we saw a large, sprawling building on the horizon.
Hanna turned to me. “Is that a hotel?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. You wouldn’t expect paying guests to drive this far on a bumpy, single-lane road.” We drew closer, halting just as the roadway changed from a barely there gravel lane to an intricate cobblestone driveway. Stone pillars marked the entry to the driveway proper.
“Fancy,” Hannah said under her breath.
“Hold on.” It was probably an overreaction, but I wanted to be ready to beat a fast retreat if something was wrong here. “Let’s stow our backpacks under those bushes.” I pointed to a cluster of dead rose bushes planted around one of the pillars. Hannah shrugged, clearly eager to approach the house.
A concrete circle—maybe forty feet across—sat to our right in an overgrown field. A giant letter H was painted in white on the circle.
“That’s a helipad.” Hannah grabbed my arm, squealing with excitement. “I’ve seen them on those reality shows about rich housewives. Wow. Whoever lived here must have been loaded.”
No kidding.
When Miles was a child, he liked to build huge, intricate toy houses out of Lincoln Logs. The kits were expensive, so Uncle Mel had retreated to his woodshop to pains
takingly cut and stain hundreds of extra pieces for Miles. Miles spent weeks designing elaborate structures with towers and porticoes and flying buttresses.
The house in front of us rivalled my cousin’s most ambitious projects. Someone undoubtedly spent millions of dollars building a luxurious, yet rustic log cabin. Massive log beams—all stained a rich honey color—framed a wide porch. The place was ginormous, easily twice the size of Kyle’s fancy family home in Boise. Flowerbeds choked with weeds flanked the cobblestone walkway that led to the house. On either side of the double-door entry, aged-copper light fixtures hung from the log siding.
The electric lanterns were switched on, the bulbs casting circles of light onto the walls.
“They have power.” Wide eyed, Hannah glanced at me. “How can they have power?”
My gaze swept over the house and yard. “Solar panels on the roof and a wind turbine out back.”
“Wow,” she said, for the second time in five minutes.
The front door swung open and a tall, elegant woman stepped onto the porch. “Hello. Are you lost? Would you like to come inside for a glass of strawberry lemonade?”
Without pausing to consult me, Hannah bounded over the cobblestones and climbed the steps. “Hi, I’m Hannah Lee, and this is my friend Kenzie Dunwitty. We are lost and we’d love a glass of lemonade.”
Hector and I edged nearer the porch. The woman’s welcoming smile didn’t falter as we drew close. If not for the neglected landscaping, this woman—this place—looked untouched by the flu virus. She wore ivory linen pants and a sleeveless, cream-colored silk blouse. Her blond hair was pulled back in a sophisticated chignon. Diamond stud earrings caught the light when she tilted her head and smiled at me, her lips tinted a tasteful shade of rose. When she extended her hand to introduce herself, gold bangles tinkled at her wrist. Through the open door, I heard classical music.
Linen, silk, lipstick, jewelry, music. It was as if time had reversed course back to the pre-pandemic days, or this effortlessly sophisticated woman existed in an alternate universe.
“How do you do, Kenzie. I’m Mimi de Vries.”
“How do you do. It’s nice to meet you, Ms. de Vries.” I smiled and shook her hand.
“Mimi, please.” With a graceful sweep of her hand, she invited us to enter her home. “Could the German shepherd stay outside? My cats are terrified of dogs.”
As if conjured up by her words, two snow-white Persian cats sauntered toward us and twined around Mimi’s legs. They reared back, hissing, when they spied Hector.
“You see.” Mimi offered a small, apologetic smile. “I’m afraid I must insist that the dog stay outside.”
“Hey, kitties.” Hannah stepped through the open doorway into the foyer and dropped to her knees. “Come say hi.” The cats ignored the hand she held out toward them.
“Could I get a bowl of water for Hector?” I asked, not budging from my place on the porch.
“Of course.”
Mimi retreated and returned a minute later with a bowl full of water, a small plate, and a can of cat food. “I haven’t any dog food, I’m afraid, but perhaps he’d be willing to eat this.”
“How very kind of you,” I said, defaulting to the stiff, good manners I’d used around Kyle’s parents.
I emptied the cat food onto the plate and placed the bowl of water next to it. “Hector, stay.”
With an unaccountable reluctance, I stepped into the foyer. Mimi closed the door behind us. Hannah and I followed her toward the spacious kitchen. Rubbish and food scraps littered the hardwood floor and dotted the granite countertops. Still, when Mimi fetched two glasses from a cupboard and filled them with cold strawberry lemonade, we accepted the drinks eagerly.
“It’s been so long since I’ve had ice in a drink.” Hannah sighed with pleasure, tilting the glass from side to side so the cubes clanked against each other.
“Shall we sit?” Mimi indicated a cozy cluster of upholstered chairs surrounding a stone fireplace.
I perched on the edge of a chair, unwilling to sink back into the expensive-looking upholstery wearing the same grubby clothes I’d slept in on the dirt. Hannah had no such scruples and flopped back into the comfortable chair.
“We need to get back to the main road,” I said. “We have people waiting for us who will be worried about where we are. Would you be willing to drive us? We can walk, of course, but we’re tired.”
“You poor girls. You do look exhausted. It’s a little more than five miles back to the main road. I’d be happy to give you a ride and spare you the walk. Unfortunately, my staff took the car. They should be back within an hour or two, then they can drive you anywhere you want to go.”
“That’s super nice of you,” Hannah said.
“Not at all,” Mimi murmured. “In the meanwhile, perhaps you two would like to bathe while I launder your clothing? By the time your clothes are dry, George and Lillian should be back with the car.”
“I’d kill for a hot shower,” Hannah said. “It’s been forever since I’ve had one.”
I didn’t like the idea of waiting for Mimi’s staff to return, but Hannah looked so happy at the prospect of a hot shower that I didn’t have the heart to argue against the plan. Really, would it make a bit of difference if we waited a couple of hours to depart, then got a ride in a car? It would take just as long—possibly longer—to traverse the distance on foot.
“Very well.” Mimi rose gracefully to her feet. “While you shower, I’ll wash your clothes and prepare lunch.” She led us upstairs to a pair of guest rooms, each with a luxurious private bath. “Leave your dirty clothes outside the bedroom door. You’ll find cotton spa robes hanging on the back of the doors. Take your time. We’ll have lunch whenever you’re ready.”
As soon as Mimi was out of earshot, Hannah whooped and threw her arms around me. “Don’t you feel like you died and went to heaven?” She kicked off her sneakers, then tore off her clothes, depositing the pile in the hall. “Kenzie, get moving.”
Nodding, I crossed the hall to the other guest room. I stripped and left my dirty clothes outside the bedroom door. When the hot water touched my skin, I actually shuddered with pleasure. Within a minute, I had slathered lavender-scented soap over every inch of my body. I washed and conditioned my hair, then shaved my legs. Reluctant to abandon the blissful treat, I stood for a long time under the shower head, luxuriating in the sensation of hot water sluicing over my skin.
Finally, with a regretful sigh, I turned off the water and stepped onto the thick bath mat. I wrapped a towel around my head, slipped into the white terrycloth robe, picked up my boots, and padded across the hall to Hannah’s bathroom.
I found her unashamedly searching through the bathroom drawers. She handed me an unwrapped toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste. We shared the sink while we brushed our teeth. I combed her long hair, then she combed mine. We took turns using the blow-dryer we found in a cupboard.
“Score.” Hannah twisted the lid off an expensive body lotion, then dropped her robe so she could smear it over her arms and legs. After sniffing it to confirm that I liked the scent, I followed suit.
“I’m starving,” Hannah said. “I wonder what Mimi fixed for lunch. What do rich people eat, anyway? Caviar and lobster?”
I shrugged. “We’ll just have to see.”
Arm in arm, we descended the stairs.
Mimi had set the table in the formal dining room for our lunch. As we came into the room, our hostess was lighting candles. Odd for a casual lunch when her guests were decked out in bathrobes.
Candles are used on the table only after dark.
Kyle’s mother had chided his niece when the girl begged her grandmother to light candles for the family brunch. At the time, I’d dismissed his mom as a stuck-up killjoy, hung up on the archaic rules of polite society. If Kyle’s mom said that daytime candles breached some obscure etiquette, wouldn’t the ultrarefined Mimi follow the same rules?
Mimi was humming to herself. When she spied u
s standing in the archway, she gestured toward the table, where four places were set.
“Please, sit down.”
She disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a platter of grilled chicken. After placing two pieces of chicken on each plate, she fetched a bowl of mashed potatoes and deposited a large helping on each of the four plates. Finally, she brought two more glasses of strawberry lemonade and placed them before Hannah and me.
“Will George or Lillian be joining us?” Hannah asked as Mimi took her seat. Hannah lifted the glass and gulped down half of her lemonade.
“Hmmm?” Mimi sipped her glass of wine. “George or Lillian? No, dear. I’m afraid they haven’t returned yet.”
Dammit, I really wanted to get back to the others as soon as possible. Manners, I reminded myself. “What do George and Lillian do for you?” I asked, cutting off a bite of chicken.
“George maintains the property and the landscaping, while Lillian is my housekeeper.”
It took an effort not to look up at the antler chandelier that hung over the table. The thing was festooned with cobwebs. And the front flowerbeds were full of weeds. George and Lillian were either overwhelmed by the amount of work, or they were slacking off.
I hid my face behind my upturned glass, swallowing several mouthfuls of lemonade.
“Is someone joining us for lunch?” Hannah’s voice sounded tentative, as if she wasn’t sure she should ask. When Mimi looked at her, Hannah nodded at the fourth plate.
“My husband Peter promised to fly in.” Mimi took another sip of wine. “I’m expecting him to arrive any minute.”
Peter promised to fly in?
“Peter doesn’t live here with you?” I kept my expression neutral, my tone conversational, even as my stomach began to churn.
“Our primary home is in La Jolla, outside of San Diego. I’m a painter and sometimes when I have a commission, I come here, to our vacation home, to work. I prefer a quiet environment when I paint, and the light here is amazing. If you like, I’ll show you my studio tomorrow.”
Tomorrow? George and Lillian were supposed to give us a ride today.
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