by Kara Lennox
Her only son, but she was sure if she had others he would still be her favorite. When they’d first moved to Winnie’s hometown of Linhart, she’d wanted to pass him off as her half brother. She could have gotten away with it, too, since her father had moved away to parts unknown when she was a baby. But Russ, only twelve at the time, had vetoed that plan. He’d insisted that since they were making a fresh start, they should start as they intended to go, by being honest.
He’d been right, of course. He’d been mature far beyond his years, and thank providence for that. If she hadn’t had Russ to help her manage her affairs, she’d have blown the rest of her divorce settlement and have nothing to show for it.
Betty said her goodbyes and left for home, but Glory still hung around, sweeping the perfectly clean floor around her chair and blatantly staring at Russ, who didn’t seem to notice.
“I’ll finish up here,” Glory offered magnanimously. “If y’all want to beat the early bird crowd at the Cherry Blossom. They’re having a special on catfish tonight.” She was angling for an invitation to join them.
Russ was either oblivious to Glory’s unabated adoration or studiously ignoring it.
“I thought we’d go to the club,” Russ said.
Winnie smiled, pleased by the thoughtful invitation. “Sure, hon, but am I dressed okay?” She ran her hands over her tight, short skirt. She hadn’t gained a pound since her Vegas showgirl days, but she had to admit that her, um, assets had shifted around somewhat.
“You look beautiful as always, Mom.”
With an apologetic look, she allowed Glory to make good on her offer of closing up. She handed the laundry bag to Russ—she’d run the laundry through her machine at home later. Then she grabbed her purse and the two of them set off for the Lake Linhart Country Club, about a fifteen-minute drive away. They would be unfashionably early for dinner, but that didn’t matter so much in this little town, not like in Vegas where only the people confined to nursing homes ate dinner before ten o’clock.
“You said there was no occasion,” Winnie said as Russ pulled his Bronco into a parking spot. “But why is it I don’t believe you?” She gasped as an unsettling thought occurred to her. “You’re not getting married, are you? That woman who’s been into the store the last two days in a row, the one you took dancing…is it her?”
Russ laughed. “Guess I can’t make a move without you knowing. The Linhart grapevine is alive and well. But, no, I’m not marrying Sydney. She’ll be going back to New York tomorrow.”
“Well, good. I mean, I’m sure she’s a perfectly nice girl, but I don’t understand why you don’t hitch up with some nice girl from Linhart. Like Glory.”
“Glory’s nice,” Russ said mildly. “But she doesn’t do a thing for me.”
“And Sydney does? What kind of name is Sydney, anyway?”
“A city name, I guess. Don’t worry, she’s not a girlfriend and I have no intentions toward her. In fact, she’s the one pursuing me. She’s, uh, kind of a stalker.”
“Oh, Russ, that sounds awful. What’s going on?” And why hadn’t the grapevine supplied any details? Bert, whom she could usually rely on to tell her every detail of Russ’s business, had remained cagily mum about the dark-haired woman’s purpose in Linhart. He claimed he didn’t know anything, but Winnie could tell he wasn’t being truthful with her. His nose twitched when he told a lie.
Russ waited until they were seated at a white-clothed table near a wall of windows where they could watch the sun set over the lake.
“She’s got a crush on me, that’s all, and she’s one of these girls who won’t take no for an answer. So if she comes snooping around you or the shop, don’t tell her anything about me. In fact, you probably shouldn’t talk to her at all. Just tell her you’re too busy.”
“I’ll do that,” Winnie said. “Do you think she’s dangerous? She’s not one of those if-I-can’t-have-him-no-one-will kind of girls, is she?”
Russ laughed. “No, it’s nothing like that. She’s not the slightest bit scary. In fact, she’s afraid of Nero.”
“That old dog?” Winnie laughed. Bert had given Nero to Russ as a gift on his eighteenth birthday. Russ and the bloodhound puppy had been inseparable ever since. He loved that old dog and would probably fall to pieces when Nero passed—an event that couldn’t be too far off.
“Yeah,” Russ said, grinning. “She claims she simply doesn’t like dogs, but it’s obvious how nervous she is around Nero. The funny thing is, Nero seems to like her.”
“That is funny.” Nero had never before taken to any of Russ’s many female admirers. The dog didn’t care much for her, either.
Winnie couldn’t help wondering if Nero was echoing Russ’s own feelings regarding the woman—that he liked her more than he was letting on.
“Is this woman staying in town or what?” Winnie asked. “Her BMW is still parked in front of the store, I noticed.”
“She was staying at the Periwinkle, but tonight she’s busy elsewhere. Not in town,” he clarified. “She’ll be back in Linhart tomorrow afternoon, but I think that’s the last we’ll see of her.”
Russ didn’t sound as happy about that as Winnie thought he ought to. Something more was going on here than met the eye. But if she tried to worm more information out of Russ, he would clam up. She would have to find out some other way.
The waiter came and took their order. Though the menu featured all kinds of trendy, continental dishes, Winnie ordered the fried catfish.
“If I’d known you wanted catfish,” Russ said, “we could have gone to the Cherry Blossom after all.”
“Yes, but we wouldn’t have seen this sunset.”
Russ gazed out over the lake, seeming to see the incomparable view for the first time. “You’re right. God, that’s beautiful. The most beautiful sunsets in the world are right here in the Hill Country.”
Not that they’d seen sunsets anywhere else but Vegas. But Winnie thought her son was probably right. She couldn’t imagine any place more beautiful.
“Actually, I did have a reason for taking you out to dinner,” Russ said. “I want to give you a present.”
“Really?” Winnie loved presents and she especially loved surprise gifts. “Any particular reason?”
“Well, your birthday’s coming up next month. And I would have waited, but this was a deal too good to pass up.”
He handed her a red envelope with her name on it.
With quivering hands, Winnie opened the envelope. “A whole weekend at a spa! Oh, Russ, what a thoughtful gift. And it’s that fancy one in Austin—” She squinted at the card again. “But it’s for this weekend.”
“The sooner the better, right?”
“I’d have to leave tomorrow.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. I’m sure Betty and Glory can cover for you, or you can rearrange a few appointments.”
“Oh, honey, this was so nice of you, but Betty’s daughter’s baby shower is on Saturday and I can’t miss it, I’m one of the hostesses. Maybe the spa will let me reschedule. You think they will?”
“They’re always booked months in advance, is what I hear. Sorry, Mom, I didn’t know about the baby shower.”
“Well, I’ll work something out,” Winnie said, “even if I have to schedule my spa visit for next year.” She stepped around the table to give Russ a hug. “This was really generous of you.”
He shrugged. “It’s been a good year at the store. I think as hard as you work, you should pamper yourself every so often.”
“Can I get one of those mud baths?” Winnie asked. “It might be worth missing Betty’s shower for a mud bath.”
“You can get whatever you want.”
Russ had ordered the shrimp scampi, but he hardly tasted it when it arrived. He’d just wasted several hundred dollars, not to mention the fifty bucks he’d shell out for dinner.
What was worse, tomorrow he was going to be dealing with a very ticked-off Sydney Baines. He’d forgotten to tell her about the
hidden door behind the staircase that led to the bathroom.
Chapter Seven
By early afternoon of the next day, Sydney was ready to gnaw her own arm off to escape from the cabin in the woods.
She’d nearly frozen to death last night, despite the fact she’d rolled herself up in feather comforters like a caterpillar in a cocoon. The sink in the kitchen would have featured running water if she could have figured out how to make the pump work, which she couldn’t.
Last night for dinner she’d eaten all the granola bars and finished almost all the bottled water from the two backpacks. At a little after six the sun had gone down and the cabin had become pitch black—no electricity. Though Russ had started up the generator, it had conked out less than an hour after his departure.
Now, grimy from not bathing and grumpy from lack of sleep, she was resorting to the canned food she’d found in the cabinets—none of which had labels. The Texas heat had apparently melted all the glue that adhered the labels to the cans and they’d fallen off, perhaps years ago.
This morning she’d had cold barbecued beans and succotash for breakfast. For lunch she’d had a real treat—cold split pea soup and unsweetened cherries. She’d have opened more cans and hoped for something better, but with the crummy little crank can opener, the task of opening had taken her fifteen minutes per can and her hand was killing her.
She was back to wanting to kill Russ. She would wait until he’d led her out of this godforsaken wilderness. Then she would conk him on the head, steal his car and drive herself straight to the Austin airport.
She couldn’t believe she’d let herself get talked into this—and all because a studly guy had flexed his muscles and batted his blue, blue eyes at her.
Yeah, killing him would be something of a waste. Maybe she’d have sex with him first.
Oh, God, what was wrong with her? She hadn’t had any coffee this morning, for one thing. She’d found some coffee and an ancient percolator. But the percolator didn’t have a plug, even if there’d been anything to plug it into, which there wasn’t. Apparently it required a heat source and Sydney could not for the life of her figure out how to light the antique woodstove. She had wood and she had matches, but throwing matches onto the wood hadn’t accomplished anything. After using up almost an entire box of matches, she’d given up.
Maybe she should have joined the Girl Guides when she had the opportunity, but the prospect had horrified her and she’d sworn she would run away from home if she had to wear one of those uniforms.
Okay, so she couldn’t kill Russ, and sex was out of the question. When he finally arrived to take her back to civilization, she wasn’t going to speak to him. That’s what she’d do. Give him the silent treatment.
Unfortunately, when he finally did arrive some time in the early afternoon, he found her sitting cross-legged on a sunny spot on the porch, fast asleep. She was warm for the first time since the previous day and her stomach was full. Since she was completely sleep deprived, she’d succumbed to fatigue. She’d planned on greeting him with an icy stare and a haughty sneer—not rubbing her eyes and struggling to wake up like a child awakened too soon from her nap.
“Sydney.” He gently shook her shoulder. “Hey, Sydney, you okay?”
“No, I am not okay,” she managed, but her voice sounded all bedroom muzzy instead of royally ticked off.
“Did you find the bathroom?”
“If you’re referring to the world-class facilities over there,” she said, pointing to the outhouse, “yes, I did.”
“I’m so sorry. There’s a bathroom inside, but I forgot to show you where it is.”
“There is no bathroom in that cabin,” she argued. “I checked every single door.”
But when he led her back inside, he walked over to a wood-paneled wall under the stairs. All you had to do was press on it. A previously well-hidden door sprang open.
“You mean, there was a bathroom here the whole time?” She could not believe this. She’d endured that disgusting outhouse for nothing!
Sure enough, the tiny bathroom featured all the amenities—well, the bare minimum, but it looked like heaven to her.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’ve never brought guests here before. I forgot the door was hidden.”
“Yeah, well, you neglected to mention a few other things—like the fact I’d have to build a fire if I wanted to heat food or avoid freezing to death, or the fact I needed to know how to repair a generator.”
“Something’s wrong with the generator? I thought you’d turned it off.”
“It quit working right after you left. And you could have warned me that sleeping would be impossible. I don’t know what kinds of creatures live out here, but they were having a party and I think a bear was trying to get into the cabin. At one point I actually got up and locked myself in the closet. And they say the city is noisy.”
“No bears here,” he assured her.
“Then what was it?”
“Raccoon, probably, or maybe a skunk. They’re always looking for a handout.”
“Just get me out of here, okay?” So much for the silent treatment.
“Okay. Did you find anything in those boxes?”
“Oh, yeah, I found loads of stuff—about Bert Klausen’s family. Certainly nothing about yours.”
At least Russ looked a bit guilty.
“Bert’s no more your cousin than he is mine. Admit it. You dragged me here to get rid of me. You’re hiding something.”
“Bert is a cousin.” He didn’t bother denying the rest of her accusations. Which only made her feel worse. He really had wanted to get rid of her. She knew she could be annoyingly persistent when she was trying to find answers while working a case, but she’d walked away from him and he’d insisted on coming after her. He’d been the one who’d invited her to go dancing. He’d pushed the idea of the cabin. Did he dislike her that much? Was he secretly contemptuous of her New York accent and city ways? Had taking her out to dinner, dancing and being nice been some sort of setup?
“We’d better start back,” Russ said. “There’s a blue norther’ headed this way and it’s gonna get cold. Might even have some ice.”
“I just need to change clothes and I’ll be ready to leave,” she said stiffly.
“You might want to keep those clothes for the hike. Pretty as you look in a short skirt and slinky blouse, flannel and cotton are a lot more practical.”
“Wear these clothes in public?” No way. This trip to Texas had been a disaster from start to finish; she wasn’t about to add fashion crime to her list of faulty decisions. And if he thought flirting with her and calling her pretty would offset her anger, he was sadly mistaken.
“Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug.
She quickly changed back into her skirt, blouse and jacket, immediately feeling more like herself even though she’d had to trash her stockings. She stuffed the old jeans and flannel shirt into her backpack—there was plenty of room now that she’d eaten all the granola bars and drunk all the water. She would launder the clothing and return it to Russ, showing him that she had manners even if he didn’t.
She waited on the front porch while Russ closed up the cabin. The weather was still pleasant. It was hard to believe that anywhere in January could be so mild, harder still to believe a cold front would hit in a few hours. She hoped the weather didn’t delay her flight. She was booked on a red-eye leaving at ten tonight. She’d be home by morning.
“Ready?” Russ asked, suddenly appearing on the porch beside her.
She nodded. She was beyond ready to get back to civilization and was feeling grateful she’d not been born a hundred and fifty years ago to a pioneer family.
It felt good to stretch her muscles after crawling around for hours the previous day digging through those boxes. And the hike was much more pleasant now that she didn’t have to worry about the dog. At least Russ had left the beast at home this time. Now the only distraction was Russ himself, hiking a few fee
t in front of her. She wished he didn’t have to be so darn good-looking. What was it about soft, faded denim over a man’s posterior that was so appealing?
She stumbled and almost fell.
Russ halted and looked over his shoulder. “You okay?”
“Yes, fine,” she said quickly, reminding herself she needed to keep an eye on the path ahead rather than her guide’s backside.
“Looks like we had some rain last night. Just enough to make things slippery, so watch your step.”
His warning came about a second too late. One moment she was contemplating what Russ might look like naked, the next, something gave way beneath her foot. With the backpack throwing off her balance just enough, she couldn’t catch herself. She let out a scream as she found herself falling down a hillside, hitting trees like a pinball on the way down.
She did a neat somersault and wound up on her butt in a pile of wet, rotting leaves.
For a few moments she was so stunned she couldn’t move, couldn’t say anything. Then she was vaguely aware of Russ calling her name as he scuttled down the hill after her with amazing speed. He was at her side almost instantly.
“Sydney, don’t try to get up.”
Which was exactly what she was doing. The damp leaves were soaking through her skirt and she didn’t want to finish the hike with a wet behind. But then the pain hit. Her left ankle and her tailbone, mostly, but she’d bumped and scraped herself in a number of places on the way down.
“Are you hurt?” he asked. “Did you hit your head?”
“My ankle,” she finally said, barely managing to get the words out. It felt like someone was hitting her foot with a sledgehammer. “I think I broke it.”
HELL. This was exactly the kind of thing he was always cautioning his hikers to watch out for. You had to pay attention on these trails, which weren’t intended for casual strolls. He should have warned Sydney to be more careful from the beginning. He probably should have checked to see that her boots were properly laced, to give her ankles the support they needed.
Getting her off the mountain and to medical help was going to be a trick, assuming he could even get them out of this gully. Doing it before the blue norther’ hit would be damn near impossible. He could already feel a chill in the air. Dense, blue clouds were rolling in from the north. The temperature would drop twenty degrees in the next hour or two and they were probably close to three hours from the car.