The Marked Star

by Vicki Hinze

  They crested a little hill and what she supposed was the lodge came into view. “Is that it?” It looked more like a house. A big house. Three floors with a broad deck on the second floor and a columned porch that wrapped around three sides on the bottom floor. Upstairs, dormer windows flanked an A-frame, green metal roof with a stone fireplace shooting straight through its center.

  “That’s it.”

  “I thought you were talking about a hunting lodge,” Elle said. “More like a cabin.”

  “It’s a little bigger.”

  “A lot bigger. Three floors?”

  “Four actually. The bottom can only be seen from the back. Walkout basement.”

  Surprised, she looked around. A broad expanse of green lawn in front of it, broken only by a concrete helicopter pad. Woods to the right and back. A lovely covered gazebo on a boat dock down at the lake. And pretty close to the house—“Is that a creek?”

  “It is. Goes through the woods and feeds into the lake.”

  “Very pretty.” It was lovely. Apparently Nick and his associates were successful at PSC. Far more so than she’d been led to believe when she’d told her mother she was going to find Nick and convince him that he would be lucky to have her—an intention Elle never acted on due to the incident that changed her life forever. Her mother had objected, of course, alleged Nick would be intimidated by Elle’s family and money and it would be unfair to put him in that position.

  Elle nearly had laughed in her mother’s face. Nick didn’t do intimidate, first of all, and beyond that, Elle had never been recognized as family by her family. Her parents hadn’t even given her their last name. What about putting their own daughter in that position? Her mother’d had no compunction doing that. Unfortunately, her father hadn’t either.

  The old resentment roiled and surfaced. She tamped it down, buried it. And buried knowing they must have really been ashamed of her, disappointed in her, to deny she belonged to them. “Who owns this place?”

  “Technically, PSC.”

  “Who owns PSC?” She knew, of course. But she wanted to know if he’d trust her enough to tell her.

  “We all do—the team, I mean. Equal shares.”

  He did trust her. At least, with that. Relieved, she pressed further. “Does anyone live here?”

  “Me, more than any of the rest. I like my privacy.” He shrugged. “The guys come out, and now and then their families join them. Otherwise, it’s just me.”

  Why did he feel the need to be alone so much? What made him crave isolation?

  He pulled the car between two columns and a garage door that looked like siding and not a door at all lifted. He pulled in and shut down the engine. Closed the door behind him. “Lizzie, wake up. We’re here.”

  She roused and rubbed at her eyes. “I’m up.”

  Nick showed them around.

  Elle had expected the furnishings to be sparse and stark with lots of sharp edges, but the main floor was an open and inviting gathering room with lots of glass and light and a broad expanse of warm woods. A long bar with stools defined the kitchen. In the center of the gathering room stood two separate sitting areas. The first was filled with plump warm brown leather sofas, one curved, one straight, and littered with comfortable textured pillows facing an enormous flat-screen TV. The second sitting area was in a nook near the entry. A large recliner and a rocker were placed near a free-standing gas stove. Sunlight streamed in from the far wall windows and a staircase leading up to the second and third floors occupied a third wall.

  On the right, she paused, not sure what she was seeing. It was a long bank of oversized screens. Three of them. A slim desk stretched out before them, but the screens appeared to be windows with sunlight streaming in. At least, at first glance. “Your techie station, I take it,” she said to Nick.

  “More or less.”

  Cryptic. Definitely a techie station, if not his main one.

  “Where’s the arcade?” Lizzie twirled looking for it.

  “Downstairs.” Nick pointed to a passageway between the kitchen and seating area. “You can go down. Light switch is on the left. Don’t touch the weights—or the darts—and stay out of the spa unless an adult’s with you.”

  “Whoa.” Her eyes stretched wide. “All that’s down there.”

  Nick frowned, clearly not trusting the gleam in Lizzie’s eyes. “Maybe we’d better come with you.”

  Elle seconded that thought with a healthy nod. “Definitely.”

  They spent the next fifteen minutes with Lizzie oohing and ahhing over located treasures, then broke away to explore the rest of the house.

  He showed Elle and Lizzie two bedrooms on the second floor. “You can stay here. Next door to each other. You’ll share a center bath.”

  “Where will you be?” Elle asked.

  “Downstairs. There’s a bedroom there.”

  “Where’s Sam gonna be? Out on the porch?” Lizzie pointed out the long window to the deck.

  “No, he’ll be upstairs. Joe, too.”

  “Where’s the stairs?” Lizzie asked, eyeing the long door to the deck with skepticism.

  “End of the hall,” Nick said. “I’ll show you on the way down.”

  The rooms were a good size and both had doors onto the second-story deck. Hers was decorated in sunny yellow and Lizzie’s in pale green. Soft colors, lots of little touches of comfort, like the quilts draped over the edges of the beds. On a hunch, Elle turned to Nick. “Nora and Annie help decorate these?”

  “Actually, they did. Lisa and Mandy, too.”

  “Very nice, Nick.”

  “Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you two to settle in for a bit. When you’re ready, come down and we’ll see if we have any luck identifying the people who rammed into my car.” He paused. “Oh, don’t open the doors onto the deck. You’ll trigger the alarm.”

  Relief washed over Lizzie’s face. “If somebody tries to come in, it’ll go off, too?”

  “Loud enough to wake the dead.” Nick nodded, then thought that probably wasn’t a wise thing to say to a kid. “Well, really, really loud.” He turned and went out into the hall. “If you need anything, just press the button.”

  “What button?” Elle asked.

  “Sorry.” He sounded a little flustered. “There’s a panic button beside your beds.” He looked at Lizzie. “Don’t touch it unless you’re in danger and need help right now.”

  She nodded.

  He went on, stepping close to a narrow wall just outside the bathroom they shared. “See this?” He pointed to a little black dot at waist level. “It’s an intercom. Press it and talk. Someone will hear you.”

  “That’s kind of cool.” Lizzie’s blue eyes danced. “I didn’t even see it until you showed it to me.”

  “An intercom comes in handy when there are four floors. Beats having to hit the stairs to check each one when you’re looking for someone.”

  Nick paused, pushed some button on his watch, then said. “Sam and Joe are here.” He made for the hallway. “See you downstairs in a bit.”

  His footfalls faded on the stairs. Elle absorbed all she’d seen. Equipped as it was, the Lodge seemed more like a fortress than the getaway Nick claimed. Elle looked at Lizzie and she at her.

  “We must be in a whole lot of trouble,” Lizzie said, wide-eyed and swallowing hard.

  Elle had the same feeling, but she wanted Lizzie’s insights. Kids had special gifts on that kind of thing. “Why?”

  “Because if we weren’t, Nora’s boys wouldn’t think we needed all this.”

  Elle’s stomach fluttered. She didn’t want to scare Lizzie, but she refused to lie to her. “We probably are in a lot of trouble. But I’ll tell you something. If you’re a person in trouble, this place—with these guys—is exactly where you want to be.”

  She swiped her hair back from her face. “My mom said that, too.”

  Elle frowned. “Then why did she leave you with Nora?” Why hadn’t she left Lizzie with Nick an
d the guys?

  “So they’d watch over me.” Lizzie lifted her arms. “Nobody tells Nora no. Especially not her boys.”

  Elle got it now. The quickest route to PSC was through Nora. “I think you and your mother are very smart cookies.”

  Lizzie twisted her mouth, and the look in her eyes was far too old for her years. “Not as smart as we needed to be or we wouldn’t be in trouble.”

  Wise answer, but one she could honestly dispute. “That’s not always true. Sometimes we see trouble coming and sometimes we don’t.” Today, no one knew that better than she. The injustice of it settled inside her, and Elle frowned. “I’m in trouble, and I have no idea in the world why.”

  Lizzie recognized the offer of a bond of trust between them, and accepted it. “Me neither.”

  “What’s that?” In the great room’s kitchen area, Lizzie knelt on a stool and leaned over the breakfast bar, pointing at some brown, soupy food in a crockpot.

  Sam frowned at her. “Beats me, but I ain’t eating it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Mandy cooked it.”

  Nick cleared his throat.

  Tim clapped him on the shoulder. “No problem, Nick. I love my wife and will always love her, but truth is truth and she can’t cook any better than Lisa.”

  “Mark’s Lisa can’t cook?” Elle asked.

  “No self-respecting dog will eat her food.”

  “Sam, that’s harsh.” Elle frowned.

  “It might be, but it ain’t no lie.”

  “It’s honest.” Tim nodded. “If you value your stomach, keep both those women far, far away from the kitchen—but don’t mention it.”

  Elle bit back a smile. “They’re touchy about it?”

  “Naw, not a bit,” Sam said. “It’s just pointing out a flaw ain’t the way to a woman’s heart, if you know what I mean. And they overlook a lot of flaws in us. So fair’s fair.”

  “Ah, I see.” Boy, did she, and it amused her.

  “I have a theory on that business,” Joe said, sliding a hip onto a stool at the breakfast bar next to Lizzie.

  “On what business?” Sam asked.

  Lizzie snarled at him. “Lisa and Mandy cooking. Can’t you keep up?”

  Before Sam could snarl back at the girl, Joe intervened. “I think they don’t like to cook and they don’t want to cook, therefore they can’t do it.”

  Tim cocked his head. “I don’t know, Joe. I’ve seen them both make the effort.”

  “Have you really? Or have you seen what you expected to see?” Joe lifted a finger in Tim’s direction. “Both of them are smart, skilled, capable, and determined. Do you really think if either of them wanted to cook, they couldn’t? Seriously?”

  “I never looked at it that way.” Tim frowned. “It’s possible.”

  “It’s probable,” Sam agreed.

  “Well, if they don’t like cooking and they don’t want to do it, what’s wrong with that?” Lizzie asked.

  “Not a thing,” Tim said. “I cook and so does Mark. It works out fine.” His expression softened. “But we don’t rub their noses in it because—“

  Lizzie cut in. “That’s just rude.”

  “It is. Everybody doesn’t like doing something.” Elle grinned. And rubbing salt would be a sure-fire path to women being in wickedly bad moods. Smart men would studiously avoid that. “So is anything in there salvageable?” She nodded to Mandy’s pot, her stomach growling. “I’ve been without much to eat for a few days and I’m hungry.”

  Sam shrugged. “Mark usually cooks when we’re out here, but he’s on his honeymoon.” He hooked a thumb toward the door. “I’m worse in the kitchen than Mandy and Lisa together, but I can run get some pizzas.”

  Nick told Elle. “The fridge and freezer are stocked. I’m passable in the kitchen, if you want to risk it.”

  Elle liked to cook, and she liked to eat. “Mind if I snoop around?”

  “You really need to look at some pictures,” he said. “You, too, Lizzie.”

  “Of what?” She twisted on the stool, swiveling it.

  “To see if we can find one of the lady at the wreck.”

  “After we eat, Tim,” Elle said. “We can’t focus if we’re starving.”

  Tim nodded. “Let’s see what we can do then.”

  Elle went to the fridge and pulled out lettuce, tomatoes, onions and bell peppers. “Nick, here’s the stuff for salad.”

  “Sam’s better at slicing and dicing.”

  “Here, then.” She passed off the stuff to Sam. “Lizzie, help him with that.”

  She bounded off the stool. “Where’s the salad bowl?”

  “Second cabinet, top shelf,” Nick told her.

  She looked up at Sam. “I need a boost.”

  He hauled her up. She opened the cabinet and retrieved a bowl. “Got it.”

  Sam put her down on the floor. “You could use a few pounds. You’re light.”

  She cranked back her head and looked up at the giant. “You’re handy to have around. At least, until I get taller.”

  Oh, yeah. Elle watched Sam and Lizzie. The child appreciated his size. He made her feel safe. What exactly had made her feel unsafe? Elle wondered, but didn’t ask. Lizzie already had said she didn’t know why she was in trouble, but Elle had an inkling she knew more than she’d said, or maybe more than she thought. “Nick, do you have salad dressing?”

  “In the fridge.”

  Elle checked and found three jars. “They’re all expired.”

  “What now?” Nick said.

  “We make our own.” She pulled out some ingredients, went in search of spices, and then mixed together a vinaigrette and a pseudo-ranch. “That’ll do.”

  “We need boiled eggs,” Lizzie said. “I can’t swallow salad without boiled eggs cut up in it, Elle.”

  “Boil some.” Elle passed Lizzie the carton, and then spotted half a roasted chicken in the fridge. “You have plans for this?”

  “No.” Nick frowned. “It’s not expired. Bought it yesterday.”

  “Great. Put on some rice and, Tim, you find some vegetables.”

  He headed for the pantry.

  She cut up the chicken and pulled out a skillet, then added a little oil. “Is there any pineapple in there, Tim?”

  “Yeah, and green beans and corn.”

  “No corn. Just the pineapple,” Elle said. “Nick, clean some carrots, will you?”

  He got busy next to Sam at the sink.

  She rummaged through the freezer. “Eureka!”

  “What?” He looked at her.

  “Snow peas.” She smiled. “We’ve got a meal.”

  “Great.” Tim grinned. “And it’s not burned.”

  Nick grunted. “Refreshing change, eh?”

  “You don’t act like a big star,” Sam told Elle. “You act like a normal person.” His face went red. “I mean, you seem at home in the kitchen.”

  “She likes to eat.” Nick dumped the pineapple into the skillet. “Really likes to eat.”

  Elle laughed. “I do.”

  Lizzie frowned at Sam. “Don’t act goofy. Everybody eats.”

  Sam motioned with a huge hand. “Set the table, you pint-sized tyrant.”

  Lizzie grabbed a stack of plates someone had put on the counter. “Tyrant.” She paused, then told Sam. “I don’t know what that is, but I don’t like the way you said it.”

  Elle let that pass and whispered to Nick, standing at her side, watching the steaming skillet. “I take it word is out that I’m missing.”

  “Actually, it’s not. Joe’s been in touch with your manager and bodyguard, but they’ve kept it out of the press.”

  “How?” She’d had commitments, and neither Neil nor Charlie impressed her as that savvy.

  “Laryngitis or something. I’m not sure.” Nick’s gaze slid away. “Joe’s…resourceful.”

  “I have the feeling ear-blistering was involved.” She stirred. The carrots were done. “After dinner, I’m calling my parents.”


  “That’s probably not a good—“

  “I wasn’t asking, Nick,” she said softly. “I call my father every other day, so I’m already overdue. I’m not letting him worry.” He would. Her mother? Well, maybe she’d noticed Elle hadn’t called, and maybe she hadn’t. It depended on what was on her calendar.

  “Okay, then.” He gave in gracefully. “Call. But say nothing about the incident and especially not about where you are now.”

  Their phone could be monitored. “Got it.” Elle turned and lifted her voice so everyone could hear her. “Dinner is ready.”

  After a boisterous meal, they all sat around the table until Elle said, “It’s after seven. Let’s get the dishes done and look at those photos before Lizzie falls asleep sitting up. She’s had a busy day.”

  “We’ll do the dishes,” Joe said, already gathering plates. “Fair repayment for a good meal that’s not charred.”

  Elle smiled. “Fair enough.” She turned to Nick. “Which phone do you want me to use to call my folks?”

  “Mine.”

  It was secure. Vintage Nick. Always thinking defense. She held out her hand.

  He passed her his phone and she walked through the nook, past the recliner and gas stove, then stood near the windows. Staring outside, she dialed her parents’ home in Los Angeles.

  Her mother answered on the third ring. “Hello.”

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Elle,” she said, sounding breathless and more than a little annoyed. “Your dad’s been calling me every hour to see if you’ve phoned yet.”

  Definitely not happy at her day being constantly interrupted. “Where is he?”

  “Washington. I have no idea why.” Static crackled. “How’s London?”

  Elle hesitated, saw Nick two steps behind her, sitting in the recliner so he could listen while pretending not to hear a thing. “London is good. The audience seemed to really like New Dawn.”

  “New what?”

  “My new song.” Just once couldn’t she at least fake an interest in Elle’s work? Just once?

  “Oh. Well, that’s wonderful, darling.”