Finding You

by Carla Neggers

  Thad exchanged places with his daughter. “I was just telling our guests it took three generations of Hawthornes to clear this land, and just one generation for nature to reclaim it.”

  “Life wasn’t easy back then.”

  “It never is.” He sighed, suddenly serious, almost businesslike, and glanced around as if making sure no one was eavesdropping. “Cozie, I need to discuss something with you. It’s an…awkward situation.”

  He knew, she thought. He’d found out her tenant was the man who’d crashed the helicopter Julia was to have been aboard, and he wanted Cozie to kick him out.

  But Thad Vanackern said, “I’m afraid we’ve discovered money and a number of valuables missing from our house here in Woodstock.” He paused for a minute, then added, “Your brother has been doing some work for us, you know.”

  Cozie took a sharp breath. She knew exactly what Thad Vanackern, in his oh-so-polished way, was intimating. “How much is missing?”

  “I’m not sure how much cash. Several hundred dollars at least. The valuables are mostly small antiques—porcelain, silver, things that could be sold with relative ease.”

  “And you think Seth stole them,” she said, making it an accusation.

  Thad looked miserable. “Always so plainspoken, Cozie. That’s certainly not what we want to believe, I assure you. Most of his work is outdoors, but he comes in for lunch, a drink every now and then. We don’t restrict him in any way. We consider Seth a friend. We’re not snobs, you know.” He paused, apparently waiting for Cozie to concur.

  “You’re accusing my brother of being a thief.”

  “No, I am not accusing him of anything. All I’m asking is that you have a talk with him to see if he knows anything about what happened. The last thing we want is to bring in the police and create publicity that none of us needs right now.” His expression hardened. “But we can’t let this continue. If we have to go to the police, we will.”

  Cozie came to a dead stop, her heart pounding. “Seth has had his problems, but he is not a thief.”

  Thad slowed his pace. The sun glinted on his graying fair hair, and he looked younger than his years, very fit, intelligent. Powerful. If he put his mind to it, he could make her brother’s life very difficult. “Cozie,” he said, “we care about you and your family. If Seth couldn’t resist temptation, if he has a problem for which he needs money, perhaps it’s something we could work out among ourselves.”

  “There: he’s been tried, convicted, and hanged. Enjoy the rest of your hike. I’m going home.”

  But Thad wasn’t ready to give up so easily. “You Hawthornes have always stuck together. It’s an admirable trait, but it could hurt you—and others—if you allow your loyalty to insulate you from the truth. I suggest you talk to your brother.”

  “Is that an order from my employer?”

  “It is a request,” he said tightly, “from a family friend.”

  She swallowed, wanting to respond, wanting to be reasonable. But every fiber of her being told her that Thad Vanackern was wrong about her brother. He had no sound evidence to support his suspicion and was acting on prejudice. He was wrong, pure and simple. But coming on top of her discovery about her new tenant, her growing awareness of her totally incorrigible physical attraction to him, she wasn’t sure she could trust her reaction.

  The lead hikers had turned down another farm road that would take them to a waterfall and eventually connect up with the road she had followed out there. Cozie had no intention of continuing on with them. She about-faced and struck off along the edge of the field, then cut up through the middle of the orchard to the dirt road, about twenty yards up from her brother’s house. Why had Thad Vanackern stuck her in the middle? Why couldn’t he talk to Seth himself?

  Because you’re his employee. He expects you to do what he tells you to do.

  Zep loped up to her from Seth’s place, and something caught her eye on the slope behind her brother’s vegetable garden. She squinted against the bright sun.

  Daniel Foxworth was sitting atop a huge boulder. He didn’t jump up and try to run away when she started up the hill toward him. He had one knee up and a long blade of yellowed grass tucked between his lips, as if nothing had ever bothered him in his life. He still had on his military sunglasses.

  “You know,” she said, “if every time people turn around they see me with a lying Texan richer than God….”

  “No one’s going to see us,” he said, “and it was only a white lie.”

  “You’re not going to deny you’re richer than God?”

  He plucked the blade of grass from his mouth and flung it backward over his shoulder. “Is that how you measure people? By how much money they make or how much they’ll inherit?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Seems to me you like someone a whole lot better if they’re broke. Maybe including yourself.”

  “I’m in no mood to be analyzed.” She realized she sounded more exhausted than annoyed. She put one foot up on the base of the boulder, noticing her muddy sock, wondering if he did, too. “What are you doing up here?”

  “Just taking in the view.”

  “Ha.”

  He stretched out his bent leg. “You don’t believe much of anything I say, do you, Ms. Cozie?”

  “Not anymore.”

  His gaze leveled on her. She almost told him to take off his sunglasses so she could see his eyes, at least try to guess what was going on inside his head. “I don’t need you to trust me.”

  Her mouth had suddenly gone dry. “Seth’s not around?”

  “Not that I can see.”

  She sighed. She’d talk to her brother later about Thad Vanackern’s missing cash and valuables. Daniel climbed down from the boulder and dropped beside her.

  “Why did your helicopter crash into the Gulf of Mexico?” she asked suddenly.

  “You are a tenacious woman, Ms. Cozie. But I’ll indulge you. In layman terms, a small explosion blew out various things I needed to keep it in the air.”

  “You couldn’t land?”

  “No, ma’am. There wasn’t a whole hell of a lot I could do except try to keep us from coming apart before we hit water.”

  He started down the slope toward Seth’s driveway. Cozie followed, taking extra-long strides to keep up. She refused to back off. “What caused the explosion?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “The papers indicated you had explosives on board that were improperly stored. Most likely a detonator cap, or several detonator caps, ignited and caused the damage.”

  He didn’t look around at her. “That’s one theory.”

  “What’s your theory?”

  He swung around at her, stopping directly in front of her, two inches from her toes. “Leave it, Cozie. It’s not your problem.”

  “I could have you evicted.”

  “You could.”

  “You don’t think I will, do you?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  She pushed her hair back with one hand, sure his eyes never left her. She wondered what he was thinking. Her hair needed a good brushing? He liked her better in her Ingrid Bergman dress? She was way too combative and direct for his tastes? He wanted to kiss her again? She had no idea. She only knew that right now his reasons for being in Vermont, his lies—they didn’t matter.

  “Cozie.”

  There was a raggedness to his voice that told her his lies, whatever had brought him to Vermont, didn’t matter to him either, not right now.

  But if he even touched her, she knew she would run. She would have no choice. She’d already kissed him back once. Who knew what she’d do now? She didn’t trust herself.

  He didn’t make a move to touch her, but his gaze stayed on her. “I’d bet you’d be like a pitbull in a fight, Cozie Hawthorne. You’d hang on for dear life and stop at nothing. But I’m responsible for putting a man in the hospital. I’ve got a company in a mess because I screwed up. No matter what caused that crash, I was the pilot, and u
ltimately I was responsible.” He lifted a hand, stopped in midair. “I won’t be responsible for anything happening to you.”

  “You think someone sabotaged your helicopter.”

  “It’s my problem. Stay out of it.”

  That broke the spell. She hated being ordered around, and what Daniel Foxworth was telling her was an order, not a plea. She tossed her head back. “Well, that’s just fine with me. I’ve got enough problems of my own. Good day, Major Foxworth.”

  When she was halfway down the driveway, Daniel said laconically, “You want a ride?”

  “No.”

  She kept her back to him. “It’s going to be dark soon.”

  “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

  But he was beside her, his keys already out. “You’re a pigheaded, dyed-in-the-wool Yankee, Ms. Cozie.”

  “I think I’ll wait for my brother.”

  “Cozie, in the truck.”

  She sighed. “What about Zep?”

  Daniel looked around at her big mutt. Zep was wet, muddy, filthy, and panting hard. He had white slobber all over his snout. Daniel shook his head. “No dogs up front. Where I come from, animals know their place.”

  In the end, however, Zep had his way and rode up front between his master and her new pal from Texas.

  Chapter

  7

  Fool that he was, Daniel accepted Cozie’s halfhearted invitation to come inside for a mug of hot cider. She made the dog stay out. The big cookstove in the back room was still warm. Cozie lifted a cast-iron lid and stirred the coals, then added a couple small chunks of wood from the overflowing woodbox. Daniel stayed out of her way. The house had a homey character, its age apparent in the wide pineboard floor and drafty windows. A long, slipcovered couch occupied most of the wall opposite the cookstove, with two old wooden-armed chairs angled at each end, nothing fancy. He noticed the collection of videos of old movies on a shelf next to the television: they had to be Cozie’s contribution. He wondered how many more Ingrid Bergman dresses she had tucked in her closet.

  She fetched a half-gallon of cider from the unheated back porch, pulled a pan off a warmer shelf above the stove top, and splashed cider into it.

  Daniel stood next to her. “No bug parts?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  She was matter of fact. Inspecting cider was, he realized, part of her experience, something she considered perfectly natural.

  “You must have had quite a childhood, growing up here.”

  “It had its moments.” The fire crackled as the wood reignited. “I loved being outside. We all did. We’d climb trees, follow streams and stone walls, go sledding in the winter. I guess we never thought much about what went into maintaining this place.”

  “Kids aren’t supposed to worry about those things,” Daniel said.

  “Well, we sure didn’t.” She chose a larger log from the woodbox and, opening the stovetop lid, shoved it onto the fire. “It’ll take just a minute for the cider to heat up. What was your childhood like?”

  “More ordinary than you probably would believe. My grandfather—”

  “The general?”

  He nodded, refusing to be baited. “He has a ranch southwest of Houston. I practically grew up there.”

  “With the expectation of your becoming a general or an oilman?”

  “I didn’t realize it until I was older, but yes, that expectation was there.”

  “Did you rebel?”

  “I just did as I pleased.”

  “Isn’t that a kind of rebellion?”

  He smiled. “I didn’t think so.”

  She slid the pan of cider onto the hottest part of the stove, directly over the fire. “My father never pressured any of us to take over the paper. I guess we all assumed he would be around longer than he was. Grandpa Willard lived well into his eighties, and he and my father worked together for years. They always managed to avoid total disaster but never made much money. But when my father got sick and the recession hit, he just had no choice. He had to sell to the Vanackerns.”

  “Still sticks in your craw, does it?”

  “There were no other offers.”

  “Did you see yourself taking over when your father got sick?”

  “I never thought…” She tested the cider with her finger, licking it off. Daniel tried not to watch the flick of her tongue. “I thought he’d get well. I never planned for him dying when he did. None of us did.” She raised her green eyes to him as if she expected him to contradict her. “But we’re managing.”

  “Hawthornes pride themselves on their ability to endure hardship, don’t they?”

  “We could pride ourselves on worse.”

  “So what happens when success comes along?”

  She gave him a faint, self-deprecating smile. “We endure.”

  While the cider heated up, she turned from the cookstove, removing her jacket and tossing it on the back of one of the lumpy, wood-handled chairs. Underneath she had on a ginger-colored turtleneck that outlined the soft curve of her breasts, but she didn’t seem to notice him looking. She’d turned her attention to an answering machine on the chest next to the chair. Its red light was blinking, indicating she had received calls while she was out. Leaning over the chair, she pressed the button to play back her messages. With the other hand, she reached back and unobtrusively tucked in the straying hem of her turtleneck. So, Daniel thought, she had noticed his interest.

  The first message was from her sister, Meg, who invited her to Sunday dinner, “unless you’re still off gallivanting with the Vanackerns or that Texas stud of yours.”

  Cozie shot him a look. “That’s just Meg.”

  “I didn’t say a word.”

  The next message began. “Hello, Cozie Cornelia.”

  There was a pause, and she went very still. Daniel moved forward, but her ramrod stiffness warned him not to get too close.

  The voice on the tape resumed. “How was your walk this afternoon? I hope you enjoyed yourself.”

  Click.

  The momentary hum of a dial tone, the snap of the tape ending, then the familiar whirring as it rewound.

  In the ensuing silence, Daniel could hear only the popping and hissing of the fire in the woodstove. Cozie placed a hand on the back of the chair in an obvious attempt to steady herself.

  “I thought…” She paused, regained her self-control, and began again. “I’ve been receiving anonymous calls since July—but never here. Always just on the road.”

  “The voice is always disguised?”

  She nodded, still not looking at him. “I can’t even tell if it’s a man or a woman. Sounds as if he—or she—is talking into a tin can or something.”

  “You could have an expert listen to this tape.”

  “I might just do that.” With a sudden burst of energy, she popped open the answering machine and fumbled with the tiny cassette, her hands shaking visibly. Daniel resisted the urge to help her. Finally, she had the thing clutched in one fist. “I’ll put it with my log.”

  Her log?

  Daniel followed her to the kitchen, which ran the width of the narrow house and had a cozy, country feel that, under ordinary circumstances, would be immediately soothing. She tore open a drawer next to the refrigerator, dropped in the cassette, and slammed the drawer shut.

  She didn’t stop him when he walked over to the counter. She was pressed up against the sink, her color beginning to return. He opened the drawer. Inside, amid the junk and general chaos, were the cassette, the note she’d found last night on her Jeep, and a small spiral notebook. He withdrew the notebook and opened it. Cozie didn’t protest.

  The time, date, place, and transcript of each call she’d received since July were meticulously recorded on page after page of the notebook. “Hello, Cozie Cornelia…” They all began the same way.

  “You’ve received dozens of these calls,” he said.

  She acknowledged his words with a small nod.

  He scanned the entries. Witho
ut being overtly threatening, the calls were still not what he would describe as the work of a harmless nut.

  “Who have you told?” he asked.

  She licked her lips, and he saw her hesitation. Understood it.

  “Cozie,” he said, “I know I lied to you about who I am, but I didn’t make these calls. I didn’t know anything about them until now. They’re not why I’m here.” But he was already wondering about that.

  She shut her eyes as if she could squeeze back the tension, keep it from overwhelming her. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

  “You’ve been under a hell of a strain.”

  Her eyes opened again, and she tried to smile. “I guess.”

  Daniel replaced the log in the junk drawer while Cozie took two mugs down from a cupboard, her movements stiff and shaky. “I’m thinking—” She breathed in deeply, obviously not liking what she was thinking. “I’m thinking maybe it’s time I reported this to the police. There might be something they can do.” Without waiting for him to respond, she took the mugs to the back room and ladled hot cider into them. “It’s just plain cider. Sometimes I add spices, but not always.” She held a steaming mug out to him. “Enjoy.”

  “Thank you.”

  The cider was on the tart side but good. Cozie didn’t touch hers. “I shouldn’t have lied to you,” he said.

  “I probably overreacted. As you say, I’ve been under a hell of a strain. I can see you have your reasons for using an assumed name. They have nothing to do with me.”

  But Daniel was coming around to believing that in order for him to understand what happened to him and J.D. on the Gulf of Mexico, he needed to understand what had been happening to Cozie Hawthorne and her family since fame and fortune had come her way—and an anonymous caller had invaded her life.

  “Nobody likes being on the receiving end of a lie,” he said.