White Lies

by Linda Howard

  “Where?” Jay asked, sitting up eagerly. Just the thought of being able to get out of the Jeep and stretch her legs was pure heaven.

  “In that stand of pines, just to the left.”

  Then she saw it and sighed in relief. It was just an ordinary cabin, but it was as welcome as a luxury hotel. It was tucked just under the trees, visible only from the front. Because it was built on a slope, the front was higher than the back; there were six wooden steps leading up to a porch that ran all the way across. Built onto the cabin at the back was a lean-to for the Jeeps, and thirty yards to the rear was a shed.

  They parked under the lean-to and stiffly got out, arching their backs to stretch aching muscles. The air was so cold and crisp that it almost hurt to inhale, but the setting sun was painting the snowy peaks and ridges in shades of red, gold and purple, and Jay stood motionless, entranced, until Steve nudged her into motion.

  It took several trips to carry everything in; then Frank took Steve to the shed to show him how the generator worked. Evidently someone had already been up to turn it on, because the electric lights worked and the refrigerator was humming. Jay checked the small pantry and refrigerator, and found them fully stocked with canned goods and frozen meats.

  She gave herself a short tour of the cabin. Next to the kitchen was a small utility-mudroom with a modern washer and dryer. There was no dining room, only a round wooden table and four chairs in one corner of the kitchen. The living room was comfortably furnished in sturdy Early American, with brown corduroy upholstery. A brown-and-blue hooked rug covered the wooden floor, and one wall was almost entirely taken up by an enormous rock fireplace. There were two bedrooms of equal size, connected by the cabin’s lone bathroom. Jay stared at the connecting door, her heart beating a little faster at the thought of sharing a bathroom with him. She knew the intimacy of damp towels hanging side by side, toiletries becoming jumbled together, a shared tube of toothpaste. His whiskers would be in the sink, his razor on the side. The small details of living together were at least as seductive as physical intimacies, meshing their lives at every moment of the day.

  The back door slammed, and Steve called, “Where are you?” His rough voice was even raspier than usual from breathing the cold air.

  “Exploring,” she replied, leaving the bathroom and crossing to the bedroom door. “Any objections if I take the front bedroom? It has the best view.”

  A fire had already been laid in the fireplace. He bent down and struck a match on the hearth, then held it to the paper and kindling under the logs, not answering until he’d straightened. “Let me look at them.”

  Vaguely surprised, Jay stepped aside and let him enter. He examined the location of the windows and their locks, opened the closet and looked at it, then stepped into the adjoining bath.

  “It’s a connecting bath,” she pointed out.

  He grunted and opened the door into the second bedroom. The windows in both rooms were on the side walls, but because the rear of the cabin was closer to the ground than the front was, the windows in the second bedroom were more accessible from the outside. “All right,” he said, checking the locks on his windows, too. “But I want it understood that if you hear anything at all during the night, you wake me. Okay?”

  “Yes,” she said, her throat constricting. All this was second nature to him. He must think there was some danger, too, despite all the precautions Frank had taken. She had wanted to think they were safe here, but perhaps they weren’t. The best thing she could do was not argue with him.

  He glanced at her, and his rough face softened a bit. “Sorry. I guess I’m overreacting to a strange situation. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Because the tension didn’t fade from her eyes, he walked over to her, cupped her face in his hands, then kissed her. Her wonderfully full, lush, exotic mouth opened for him and his tongue teased at hers. Jay put her hands on his shoulders and luxuriated in the heat of his body against her. The cabin wasn’t icy, but it was far from warm.

  He held her against him for a moment, then reluctantly let her go. “Let’s see what this place has in the way of grub. If I don’t eat soon, I’m going to fall down.” He wasn’t exaggerating, she realized. She could feel a faint tremor in his muscles, a sign of the enormous strain he’d put on his body that day.

  Casually she put her arm around his waist as they walked back to the living room. “I’ve already checked the food. We can have almost anything our hearts desire, as long as our hearts desire plain cuisine. If you want lobster or truffles, you’re out of luck.”

  “I’d settle for a can of soup,” he said tiredly, and groaned as he sank down into one of the comfortable chairs. He stretched his legs out, absently rubbing his thighs.

  “We can do better than that,” Frank said as he brought in an armload of wood, having caught Steve’s last comment. He stacked the wood on the hearth and dusted his hands. “I think. I’m not much of a cook.” He looked hopefully at Jay, and she laughed.

  “I’ll see what I can do. I’m a real whiz with microwave dinners, but I didn’t see a microwave oven, so I’m a little lost.”

  She was too tired to do much, but it didn’t take a lot of effort to open two large cans of beef stew and heat them, or to brown buttered rolls in the gas oven. They were almost silent as they ate, and after Frank had helped her clean up the few dishes, they all took turns in the shower. By eight o’clock they were asleep, Jay and Steve in their respective bedrooms and Frank rolled in a blanket on the couch.

  They rose early the next morning, and after a hearty breakfast Frank and Steve walked around in the snow. The gas stove and hot-water heater operated on butane gas, and the large tank had been filled; it shouldn’t need refilling until spring. The fuel tank for the generator would need replenishing, but all Steve had to do was contact Frank by computer, and fuel would be brought in by helicopter. They didn’t want a delivery to the cabin by any commercial business or utility, and, at any rate, the cabin was too difficult for an ordinary fuel truck to reach. It was a complicated setup, but it was meant to be an ultrasafe lodging, unlisted in any files. All in all, the place was stocked for a long-term stay, though Frank couldn’t help wishing Steve would recover his memory soon and put an end to all this, or that Piggot would be caught.

  “The nearest town is Black Bull, population one hundred thirty-three,” Frank said. “Go down to the dirt road and turn right, and you’ll eventually get there. It has a general store for basic food and supplies. If you want anything fancier, you’ll have to find a larger town, but keep a low profile. You should have enough cash to last a couple of months, but let me know if you need more.”

  Steve looked out over the white meadow. The air was so clear, the early-morning sun so bright on the spotless snow, that it hurt his eyes. The cold burned his lungs. The land was so damned big and empty that it gave him an eerie feeling, but at the same time he was almost content. He was impatient for Frank to leave so he would finally be alone, completely alone, with Jay.

  “You’re safe here,” Frank added. “The Man uses it sometimes.” He glanced up at the cabin. “I wouldn’t have brought Jay here if it wasn’t safe. She’s a civilian, so take good care of her, pal.”

  A tingle, a heightened awareness, had seized Steve when Frank mentioned the Man. It wasn’t a sense of danger but a sort of excitement. The memory was there, but blocked from his consciousness by the lingering effects of the explosion. The Man was another piece of the puzzle.

  He shook Frank’s hand, and their eyes met in the comradeship of men who have been in danger together. “You probably won’t see me again until this is over, but I’ll be in touch,” Frank said. “I’d better get moving. It’s supposed to start snowing again this afternoon.”

  They went inside and Frank got his gear, then told Jay goodbye. She hugged him, her eyes suspiciously bright. Frank had been her rock for two months, and she would miss him. He had also been a buffer between her and Steve; when he left, there would be only the two of them.

  Sh
e glanced at Steve, to find him watching her intently. His pale brown eyes were glowing, yellower than they had moments before, like those of a raptor that had sighted its prey.

  CHAPTER NINE

  JAY HAD EXPECTED Steve to pounce on her, but to her relief he seemed to have other things on his mind. For the next week he spent the daylight hours prowling around the cabin and shed and exploring their high meadow, as tense and wary as a cat in unfamiliar surroundings. The hours passed tromping through the snow tired him, and as often as not he would go to sleep soon after eating dinner. Jay worried, until she realized that it was a natural part of his recovery. The rehabilitation he’d had in the hospital had given him a start, but he was still a long way from full strength, and the many hours of walking served two purposes: to acquaint him with his new territory, and to rebuild his stamina. It was the end of the week before he began to relax, but every day he still walked a perimeter around the cabin, watching, checking for any intrusion.

  They seemed so isolated that she couldn’t understand his caution, but she supposed it was ingrained in him. Watching him gave her an even greater insight into the man he was. He was so superbly suited to his occupation! He knew what to do by instinct, without needing to rely on memory.

  When he was stronger, he began chopping wood to keep a good supply for the fireplace. They used the hearth for most of their heat, to conserve fuel. The cabin was so snugly built and insulated that it held heat well, and a good fire was sufficient to keep the entire place comfortable. At first his hands were sore and blistered, despite the gloves he wore, but gradually they toughened. After a while he added jogging to his activities, but he didn’t jog in the meadow, where it was clear. He ran through the trees, up and down the hills, deliberately picking the roughest path, and every day his legs were a little stronger, his breathing a little easier, so he would push himself further.

  Jay loved those first days in the cabin, high in the vast, silent meadow. Sometimes the only sound was that of the wind stirring the trees. Having been accustomed her entire life to the bustle of cities, the space and silence made her feel as if she’d been reborn in a new world. The last remnants of tension from her old life relaxed and faded away. She was alone in the mountains with the man she loved, and they were safe.

  He began teaching her how to drive a stick shift. To Jay, it was fun, bouncing in the Jeep over the meadow. To Steve, it was a precaution, against the possibility that something could happen to him and Jay would have to do the driving. It might come down to a matter of saving her life.

  There was a heavy snow the third week they were there. Jay woke early to a world where every sound had been muffled. She got up to peek out the window at the deep drifts of new snow, then tumbled back into her warm bed and fell instantly asleep again. When she woke the second time it was almost ten, and she felt wonderfully rested, as well as starving.

  She dressed hurriedly and brushed her hair, wondering why the cabin was so silent. Where was Steve? She looked into his room, but it was empty. There was a pot of coffee in the kitchen, and she drank a cup while standing at the window, searching the tree line for some sign of him. Nothing.

  Curious, she finished the coffee and returned to her room to stamp her feet into warm boots; then she put on her shearling coat and pulled a thick knit cap over her hair. It was unusual for Steve to go out without telling her where he would be and how long he’d be gone. She wondered what he was doing, and why he hadn’t woken her. Could he have hurt himself?

  Anxious now, she went down the back steps. “Steve?” she called softly, a little afraid to raise her voice. The meadow was so silent, and for the first time its isolation felt threatening, instead of safe. Was there someone else out there?

  His footprints were plainly visible in the new snow. He’d evidently made several trips to the woodpile to replenish the supply in the house, because there was a worn trail between them; then he’d walked up the slope into the forest. Jay dug her gloves out of her coat pocket and put them on, and wished she’d wrapped a scarf around her nose and mouth. It was so cold that the air felt brittle. She turned the collar of the coat up around her neck and began following Steve’s trail, carefully stepping in his tracks because that was easier than breaking through the snow herself.

  The snow wasn’t as deep under the trees, making the walking easier, but Jay kept to the prints Steve had made. The thickly-growing evergreens, their branches weighted down with snow, blanketed noise and muffled it out of existence. She could barely hear herself breathe or the snow crunching under her boots. She wanted to call Steve’s name again but somehow didn’t dare, as if it would be sacrilege in this silent white, black and green cathedral.

  If anything, she tried to be even quieter, picking her way from tree to tree, trying to become part of the forest. Then, suddenly, she lost Steve’s tracks. She stood under the drooping limbs of a spruce and looked around, but there were no more tracks to follow. It was as if he’d vanished. It was impossible to walk in the snow without leaving tracks! But there were no tracks under the trees. She looked up, wondering if he’d climbed a tree and was sitting there laughing at her. Nothing.

  Common sense told her that he’d played some sort of trick, but his tracks would have to pick up somewhere. She thought a minute, then began walking in a slow, constantly enlarging circle. She would have to cross his path somewhere.

  Fifteen minutes later, she was angry. Damn him! He was playing games with her, unfair games, considering his training. She was getting cold, and she was already starving. Let him play Daniel Boone; she was going back to the cabin to cook breakfast—for one!

  Just to be perverse, she backtracked as cautiously as she’d come; maybe she could leave him in here, sneaking around and hiding from her while she was already back at the cabin, snug and warm and eating a hot breakfast. He’d show up after a while, all innocence, and he could damn well cook his own breakfast! Show-off!

  She crept back toward the cabin, sidling as close to the tree trunks as she could, stopping often to listen for any betraying sound before moving to the next tree, and looking in all directions before moving again. Her indignation grew, and she began to think what she could do in the way of revenge, but most of her ideas seemed both petty and paltry. What she really wanted to do was hit him. Hard. Twice.

  She had just begun to creep around a tree when the skin on the back of her neck prickled and she froze, her heart leaping in fear at the ancient warning of danger. She couldn’t hear or see anything, but she could feel someone, or something, close by. Were there wolves in the mountains? Or bears? Motionless except for her eyes, she looked around for something to use as a weapon, and finally she saw the outline of a sturdy-looking stick, buried under the snow. A fraction of an inch at a time, she bent to reach for the stick, her senses raw and screaming.

  Something hard and heavy hit her in the middle of the back, and another blow numbed her forearm. She was knocked facedown in the snow, her lungs straining for air, her arm useless. She couldn’t even scream. She was jerked roughly onto her back, and there was a flash of shiny metal as a knife was laid against her throat.

  Stunned, terrified, unable to breathe, she stared up into narrowed, deadly eyes as yellow as an eagle’s.

  His eyes widened as he recognized her, then narrowed again with rage. He jabbed the wicked-looking knife back into its scabbard and took his knee off her chest. “Damn it, woman, I could’ve killed you!” he roared, his voice like rusty metal. “What in hell are you doing?”

  Jay could only gasp and writhe on the ground, wondering if she might die from lack of air. Her entire chest was burning and her vision was wavering.

  Steve jerked her to a sitting position and whacked her on the back several times, hard enough to hurt, but at least the air rushed back into her body. She almost choked as her lungs expanded again, and tears sprang to her eyes. She gagged and coughed, and Steve patted her on the back but his tone was hard: “You’ll be all right. It’s less than you deserve, and a hell of a
lot less than what could have happened.”

  She didn’t plan it. She saw the stick out of the corner of her eye, the one she’d been reaching for when he’d hit her, and the next thing she knew it was in her hand. Red mist fogged her vision as she swung at him with all the strength her fury had given her. He dodged under the first blow, cursing, and leaped back to escape the second one. She moved to the left, trying to back him against a tree so he wouldn’t be able to escape so easily, and swung again. He tried to grab the stick, and she caught him on the wrist with a solid thunk! then wound up for another blow. Cursing again, he bent low and rushed her. She hit him on the back with the stick just as his shoulder jammed into her stomach with enough force to knock her sprawling again.

  “Damn it!” he yelled, kneeling astride her and pinning her wrists to the ground. “Settle down! Damn it, Jay! What in hell’s wrong with you?”

  She twisted and bucked beneath him, trying to throw him off. He tightened his knees on her sides, forestalling that effort, and his hands bit into her wrists so tightly there was no way she could free them. Finally she stopped struggling and glared impotently at him, her eyes like blue fire. “Get off me!”

  “So you can brain me with that damn stick? Fat chance!”

  She took a deep, shuddering breath and forced her voice to a relatively calm tone. “I won’t hit you with the stick.”

  “Damn straight you won’t,” he grunted, releasing her hand to grab the stick and hurl it away from them. Jay used her free hand to wipe the snow out of her face, and slowly Steve eased his weight off her chest. She sat up and pulled the knit cap off her head to shake it free of snow.

  Kneeling on one knee beside her, Steve brushed off her back. “Now suppose you explain just what you thought you were doing,” he snapped.