Eclipse Bay

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  Rafe gave Perry a look of wistful regret. “You know, you’re right about one thing, Decatur. When she starts in with the lectures and the good advice, she does sort of take all the fun out of things, doesn’t she?”

  “That’s enough, Madison.” Hannah gave up tugging, wrapped her hand around his arm, and leaned forward instead.

  “Whatever you say.” Without warning, Rafe suddenly reversed course, squeezing her hand against his side.

  Hannah, already off balance, with her fingers now trapped under his elbow, had to run a few steps to avoid being dragged.

  “Rafe.”

  “Sorry.” He slowed to a normal pace. “You okay?”

  “Of course I’m okay.” She shoved her hair out of her eyes and yanked hard on her skirt. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “I’m with you. I don’t think I’m going to become a big fan of political receptions. The speeches are boring and the food is bad.”

  For some inexplicable reason she started to laugh.

  chapter 11

  With the exception of a few stray chuckles, she had herself under control by the time they got outside. Rafe glanced at her as they walked to the far side of the lot where the Porsche was parked.

  “Told you he was still a jerk.” He opened the passenger door for her.

  “You were right.” She slanted him a quick glance. “How long were you lurking there in that hallway outside the rest rooms?”

  “Long enough to hear most of the conversation.”

  She paused, half in and half out of the cockpit. Then she straightened and went up on her toes. Leaning over the top of the car window, she brushed her mouth very quickly against his cheek.

  “It really was sweet of you to offer to beat Perry up for me,” she said.

  He lifted his fingers absently to the place where her lips had touched his skin. In the weak glare of the parking lot lamp his eyes were shadowed, impossibly enigmatic. “That’s me, a real sweet guy.”

  She stepped back quickly and sank into the rich leather upholstery. “But I really didn’t need rescuing.”

  “ ’Course not. You’re a Harte.”

  “And Perry is just a jerk with a temper who’s always looking for an angle.”

  Rafe folded his arms on the top of the window frame and looked down at her. “Got news for you. It wasn’t you I was trying to rescue back there.”

  She stilled. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I just figured I’d better break up that little one-sided skirmish before you cast any more nasty aspersions on Decatur’s masculinity.”

  She was not quite sure how to take that. “Oh.” She narrowed her eyes, trying to see his face against the pale light. “You, uh, care about Perry’s fragile male ego?”

  “Not particularly. But intimidation is a precious tool. Push a guy like Decatur too hard, and it can backfire on you. He might try to take revenge.”

  “Hah. There’s nothing he can do to me.”

  “Not to you maybe, but he could sure make life hell at the institute for your friend’s husband.”

  She stared at him for a beat or two as the implications sank in. “You’re right. If Brad gets the appointment, he’ll have to work with Perry, won’t he?”

  “Maybe not directly, but he won’t be able to avoid him altogether. They’ll be colleagues, after all. I’m sure Brad can take care of himself, but why make things any harder than necessary for him?”

  “Damn.” She drummed he fingers on the edge of the seat and gazed morosely through the front windshield. “I got a little carried away back there, didn’t I?”

  “Perfectly natural reaction,” he assured her. “Victory can make a person giddy.”

  “Apparently.” She frowned. “So how come it was okay for you to threaten to bounce him around, but it wasn’t okay for me to make rude remarks?”

  He exhaled with an air of long-suffering patience. “Because I’m a man and I was making a direct threat.”

  “Ah, yes, I get it.” She nodded wisely. “Macho challenge stuff.”

  “A challenge that Decatur was never forced to answer or back down from because you intervened, thus saving both his bacon and his pride.”

  She thought about that. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you? You knew I’d put a stop to anything that looked as if it would turn into real violence.”

  “Pretty sure, yeah.”

  “How did you know that?”

  He grinned. “Instinct.”

  “Yours or mine?”

  “Yours.”

  She pursed her lips. “You mean you just assumed that because I’m female I would automatically move to stop a couple of males from getting into a brawl?”

  “It had nothing to do with the fact that you’re female. Believe me, I’ve met women who love to watch men fight. But I figured that any successful wedding consultant would have developed finely-tuned radar when it comes to scenes. The last thing anyone wants at a wedding is a brawl, right?”

  “Well, yes, that’s true, of course.”

  “I figured you’d be good at intervening in a confrontation,” he concluded a little too innocently.

  “Hmm.”

  “And you did get in a few zingers,” he reminded her. “I heard them. Decatur took some well-placed hits.”

  She thought about Perry’s words. No wonder your engagement fell apart. What man in his right mind wants to go to bed every night with a woman who can’t stop lecturing? The invisible balloon of her triumph began to deflate.

  She exhaled deeply. “Perry got in a few good thumps of his own.”

  “That’s okay. You can handle them. You’re tough, aren’t you?” He started to close the door. “Hey, you’re a Harte.”

  “Right. I’m a Harte.” She continued to gaze out into the darkness on the other side of the windshield. “And what’s more, I’m—”

  She broke off, startled, when an apparition materialized out of the night directly in front of the car. In the cold glare of the parking lot lamp she saw a figure garbed in black pants, black running shoes, and black gloves. The hood of a black sweatshirt was pulled down over a face smeared with daubs of dark paint.

  Rafe glanced over his shoulder, nodded casually. “ ’Evening, A.Z. Nice night for recon work.”

  “Heard you were back in town, Rafe,” Arizona Snow said. “Always figured you’d return someday to expose the bastards who tried to frame you for the Sadler girl’s murder.”

  “Well, now that you mention it, that wasn’t exactly the reason I came back,” Rafe replied. “You see, Hannah and I have this little inheritance problem.”

  “Dreamscape,” Arizona said briskly in a cigar- and whiskey-roughened voice. “I know all about that, too. Isabel was a good friend of mine. If you ask me, it makes a great cover for you.” She peered into the Porsche. “Nice to see you, Hannah. Come back to help Rafe flush out the rats?”

  Hannah smiled slightly. “Good evening, Arizona.”

  “My, don’t you look fancy tonight.” Arizona squinted. “What the devil are you two doin’ hanging around with this crowd at the institute? Part of your investigation?”

  “Our being back in town has nothing to do with Kaitlin’s death, A.Z. ,” Rafe said gently. “It was an accident. You know that.”

  “Bulldooky. Suckers here at the institute offed her for some reason. She probably knew too much about somethin’ going on up here.”

  “How would she have known anything about the institute?” Hannah asked curiously.

  “Kaitlin slept around a lot,” Arizona said. She shot a piercing look at Rafe. “Reckon you know that.”

  Rafe cleared his throat but did not say anything. Hannah glanced at him, but he deftly managed to avoid her eyes.

  “Always figured poor Kaitlin slept with the wrong guy,” Arizona continued. “Someone connected to the institute. Probably talked in his sleep. Or maybe she just saw some papers or something. They figured they had to get rid of her. The killers must have panicked when Chief Yates started in
vestigatin’, so they decided they needed a fall guy and tried to pin it on you, Rafe. Probably picked you on accounta everyone knew you’d been seeing a lot of Kaitlin that summer.”

  “An interesting theory,” Rafe said neutrally.

  “But thanks to Hannah here, the big plan fell apart.” Arizona clenched a fist and pumped it into the air. “Once in a while we throw a wrench into the bastards’ plans. Gives me hope that someday we’ll expose the whole damned pack of weasels.”

  Rafe glanced at the black plastic binder in her hand. “What are you doing here tonight?”

  “Keeping my logbooks up to date, of course.” Arizona tapped the binder with one black-gloved finger. “Until the rest of you wake up and smell the coffee, someone has to keep an eye on what goes on up here at the institute. Someday folks will realize that this so-called think tank is a cover for a secret government operation that operates outside the law. When that day comes, everyone’s going to be real glad to have my logs.”

  Hannah leaned slightly out of the car. “Did you put Rafe and me in your log tonight?”

  “Honey, I took down the license plate, make, and model of every car in this lot when it arrived, and that includes friends as well as suspects. Got to keep the record accurate.”

  “Something to be said for accuracy,” Hannah agreed.

  “I also noted the number of people in each vehicle and, where possible, the identities.” Arizona scowled. “Got to admit, I don’t always recognize everyone these days. Every year more strangers show up for meetings and parties here at the institute. In the old days I knew just about everyone who came and went. But not anymore. The web is widening daily.”

  Rafe eyed the logbook. “Are you going to write down the time that we leave?”

  “You bet. It’s the details that make the difference, you know. When the truth finally comes out, it will be the accumulation of a lot of tiny facts in these logs that will show how the phantom project operated undetected for so long.”

  Hannah wrinkled her nose. “You don’t really think that Rafe and I are involved in the conspiracy, do you?”

  Arizona snorted. “ ’Course not. You’re just a couple of naïve, innocent dupes like most everyone else around here. But I gotta put you in my logs because I gotta have a complete record of all comings and goings. If I start skipping a couple of cars here and there, the government lawyers might try to claim that the logs are incomplete or inaccurate. Can’t give ’em any room to squirm when the truth comes out.”

  Rafe inclined his head in sober acknowledgment of that logic. “Makes sense.”

  “You better believe it. I’ve monitored every reception, every meeting, every special event held here at the institute since the day the place opened.” She held her log aloft again. “All part of the record.”

  Rafe glanced at his watch. “Well, you can log us out at precisely ten-forty-three. We’re on our way home now.”

  Arizona’s head jerked up and down once in acknowledgment. “Got it.” She clicked a black pen and opened her notebook. “You two drive carefully.”

  “We will.” Rafe started to close the passenger door.

  “Say, Rafe.” Arizona glanced up sharply. “Why don’t you stop by the café when you get a chance? About time we updated that menu you worked out when you used to cook for me. The college crowd seems happy enough, but after all these years I’m getting a little tired of fixing the same stuff day in and day out.”

  “All right, I’ll drop by soon,” Rafe said.

  “Appreciate it.” Arizona aimed the pen at Hannah. “You come with him. Always did like the notion of you two gettin’ together. Told Isabel so.”

  Hannah braced one hand against the door to keep Rafe from closing it. “My aunt discussed her intention to leave the house to us with you?”

  “Well, sure.” Arizona’s beefy shoulders rose and fell beneath the black sweatshirt. “Me and Isabel went back a long way. She talked to me about her plans for Dreamscape because she knew that everyone else would think she was crazy for trying to end the feud.”

  “But not you,” Hannah murmured.

  “Nope, not me. I told her to go for it. Always knew the feud had been caused by the sonsabitches who opened the institute. The bastards probably wanted to break up Harte-Madison because they knew the company would try to block their plans to establish this damned think tank.” Arizona sighed. “Unfortunately, their scheme worked all too well.”

  “Good night, A.Z.” Rafe closed the car door very firmly.

  Hannah watched Arizona disappear back into the shadows. Rafe circled around the tail of the Porsche and got in behind the wheel.

  “You think we’re a couple of naïve, innocent dupes?” Hannah asked.

  “Sure, but what the hell.” Rafe turned the key in the ignition and put the car in gear. “I’d rather be a happy, carefree dupe who gets to go home at ten-forty-three than an ever-vigilant guardian who has to spend nights running around in black sweats recording license plates.”

  Hannah glanced at the rows of parked cars as Rafe drove out of the lot. “Still, it’s hard to believe anyone could get a lot of satisfaction out of writing down license plate numbers. Just think, she’s been doing it for years.”

  “She’s dedicated to the cause of ultimately exposing the secret government conspiracy operating here at the institute. As hobbies go, it probably beats watching television.”

  Hannah contemplated that as she gazed at the scene spread out below the hillside. There was no fog tonight—at least, there wasn’t any yet. The bay was a sweep of midnight velvet ringed and studded with the lights of the town and the pier.

  She could make out the neon sign that marked the Total Eclipse Bar and Grill. On the opposite side of the street, the town’s single gas station was closed for the night. Near the pier was a row of darkened shops that featured rustic antiques, inexpensive beach souvenirs, and seascapes. The neighboring marina was largely unlit. The boats sheltered there were invisible against the dark expanse of the water.

  “Arizona Snow is a nice person in a lot of ways, and she’s definitely interesting,” Hannah said after a while. “But she’s not what anyone would call normal.”

  “The older I get,” Rafe said, shifting gears to negotiate the curving road that led down from the institute, “the more I’m convinced that the only good, working definition of ‘normal’ is the fact that you’re still walking around outside and not locked up in a padded cell.”

  “Okay, I’ll buy that definition. It’s as good as any other I’ve ever heard.”

  “Thanks. You know, for a guy who never made it through his second year of college, I say some smart stuff sometimes.”

  She smiled wryly. “And so modest, too.”

  He shot her a quick glance. “What’s with the sudden depression here? Losing the glow of victory so soon?”

  “You know the old saying, all glory is fleeting.”

  “Damn.” He accelerated at the foot of the hill. “You have lost the sparkle.”

  “I hate when that happens.”

  “Me, too. Victory over the jerk should buy you more than a moment of exuberance. But don’t worry, I’ve got a surefire cure for what ails you.”

  She turned her head on the back of the seat and studied his hard profile from beneath lowered lashes. It felt good to be here with him in the intimate confines of the powerful car. She wondered what her family would say if they knew where she was tonight.

  For some reason the answer did not matter at that moment.

  “What’s the cure?” she asked softly.

  A wicked expression, barely visible in the eerie light given off from the instrument panel, flickered across his face. “Come home with me, my sweet, naïve little dupe, and I will show you.”

  She knew the smart answer to that invitation. The only intelligent, sane, reasonable, logical, suitably Harte-like response was to tell him that she had to get home to her dog.

  “Okay,” she said instead.

  She finished
the last of the key lime pie and put down her fork with a sigh of mingled satisfaction and regret. The pie had been delicious, tangy and smooth on the tongue, with a flavor that conjured up images of the tropics. The slice had been arranged with artistic precision on the plate and trimmed with a paper-thin almond wafer and a slice of lime.

  She looked at Rafe, who was sitting on the other side of the old oak table. He had removed his tie, unbuttoned the collar of his pristine white shirt, and rolled the sleeves up to the elbows. Nothing had changed since that night on the beach, she thought. He wasn’t the handsomest man she had ever met, but he was far and away the sexiest.

  “The pie was incredible.” She tried to focus on something other than sex. It wasn’t easy when she was near Rafe, she had discovered. And the problem seemed to be growing worse.

  “You don’t think I went a little overboard with the lime zest?” he asked.

  “You can never have too much zest, I always say.”

  He nodded. “It’s sort of like sparkle, I guess.”

  “You know, when it comes to cooking, you’ve got a real talent. Why haven’t you ever opened a restaurant?”

  “I’ve been waiting until the time was right.”

  She put her elbows on the table. “Okay, I can’t stand the suspense any longer. If you aren’t the owner of a five-star restaurant, how did you finance the Porsche and all this free time you seem to have on your hands?”

  He gave her a cryptic smile. “Starting to wonder about all those rumors you’ve heard concerning my career as a gangster?”

  “It never crossed my mind for one second that you might be a gangster.”

  “Yeah?” He thrust his legs out in front of him, leaned back in the chair, and crossed his feet at the ankles. “Why not?”

  “Wrong clothes. Everyone knows gangsters wear shiny suits with big lapels.”

  “That’s East Coast gangsters you’re talking about. Out here on the West Coast, your average wise guy prefers a more laid-back look.”

  “Huh. Well, that blows that theory. So what have you been doing for the past eight years? And don’t give me that line about working in a hotel.”