WindSwept Narrows: #23 Molly & Natasha

by Diroll-Nichols, Karen

  “Is there still someone there? Find me all video of the area,” Cassidy said aloud, knowing her staff would get what she wanted without a given person designated to do it. “Get me pictures of the parking lot…see if there’s something we can lock onto and how the hell did they get inside the damn gates?”

  ****

  Natasha Banks was really glad she wasn’t the one tasked to find who let the fake cable people inside the gates. She’d packed up her things and hit the doors at the same time they identified the false repair person entering Dr. Fielding’s apartment.

  She sighed and settled back into the airline seat. The plane wasn’t crowded and she was relieved and staring out into the early September rain while the rest of the sparse passengers boarded, stored luggage and found their seats.

  It wasn’t that Cassidy didn’t know how people were getting inside. They held enough security seminars. But people weren’t always in the moment and until something like a stalker happened to them, it didn’t seem to sink in.

  One hand tapped over the screen on her iPad, reading through the notes she’d made, while the other reached up and pulled the elastic band free. A shaded mixture of honey colored curls fell just above her shoulders, her fingers absently massaging her scalp as the plane took off for Salt Lake City, Utah.

  Dell Russell didn’t know why she registered in his brain. Or more to the point, in a male portion much lower. She looked like a wayward college student complete with backpack slung on one shoulder, a pair of faded loose jeans and a little honey colored ponytail swinging as she squeezed past his seat to the window.

  And the scent of a fresh, ripe tangerine followed in her wake. He took one sniff and then a much longer, slower pull, filling his lungs and locating the source. She’d released the ponytail and was massaging her head at the same time the other hand was tapping over the screen of one of those new portable little pad things.

  Tech kids, he thought, fastening his seat belt and slouching down in the seat, the well-worn Stetson pulled over his eyes. It wasn’t a long flight, but he’d spent most of the night with the vet and a new born calf. Serious sleep wasn’t on the horizon for a few days.

  ****

  Tasha checked her map and pulled off to the side of the road. She found the slightly grown over concrete road leading to where the Lakeside Academy for Scholastic Advancement used to be located. She shook her head, swiped the back of one hand over her forehead and glanced up at the clouds shrouding the sun. A pretentious name, she thought, easing the rental car along the road until she couldn’t get any closer.

  She knew she should be grateful to the clouds. The humidity of the area wasn’t something she was even remotely accustomed to. She hitched her pack on her shoulders, locked the car and dropped the key into the front pocket of her jeans. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but it always helped her solve riddles to see the site in question.

  She was a good investigator and her instincts had never failed her before. If nothing else, she wanted a clear look at what used to be here. She’d refastened the band around her hair, keeping it off her glasses and skin. Right now, it would stick to her like icky glue. The last thing she wanted to feel when she was hiking through unknown territory was icky glue on her skin.

  She pulled the small camera from a pocket on her pack and began snapping off shots. Finding a higher spot, she climbed and stood staring at the burnt out, overgrown expanse. Several large holes dotted the shell of a building, probably where the initial explosions had taken place. She’d know more if she was lucky enough to get the original investigators reports.

  No one had bought the land after the fire. The sign was still in place at the edge of the road, but it was too far from anything to make it worthwhile. Which probably made it a very good location for a place like the academy. American brains for sale. She shook her head, sad and appalled; amazed and angry. The serious thought that people should have to go through a lot of classes and tests before being permitted to have a child they didn’t want.

  The area was isolated and quiet. Until she heard the snapping of dry brush and knew she wasn’t alone. But there weren’t any ‘keep out’ signs and she had her tourist act down pat. She’d followed the map she pulled from the net, taking the left turn onto Burmester Road. No one had been around, so she had to guess whoever it was, had been here before her. She kept taking her photos.

  “Odd place for pictures,” said a voice from several feet away.

  “I’m an odd kind of girl,” she answered, glancing casually toward the sound. He looked to be about her age, slender and tall. His hair was short and what she called business neat in a shade of light brown. A tight t-shirt fit the muscled body and was tucked into a pair of dark jeans. He wore a jacket that was open, his hands in the pockets as he stared back at her.

  “You a reporter?”

  “Nope.”

  “Real estate developer?”

  “Wrong again.”

  “You don’t look like a cop.”

  “I’m relieved,” she said with a laugh. “’Cause I’m not one. You own the property?”

  “No. I just hike here a lot. Investigator?”

  “Nothing to investigate, as I hear it,” she said with a shrug. She climbed down from the burnt out portion of the stone and wood building. “A twenty year old accident isn’t worth the time. Just thought it was an interesting place. Fancy school. I’m surprised they didn’t rebuild.”

  “They say a lot of people died here.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t belong here. Might be smart if you go find other things to explore.”

  “I like hiking in odd places,” she answered, a shiver going through her at the veiled threat.

  “My sister was in there when it burned,” he stared toward the rubble.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “She’s not dead. Just not alive,” he answered, turning away and taking a path opposite of the way she’d come through.

  Tasha swallowed and headed in the other direction to where she’d left the car. She was pretty sure she didn’t breathe until the lock clicked on the doors. She started the engine and headed back to the main highway into the small town of Higely. Next was a visit to the police station, the fire station and the library. A full day of what she was best at: digging.

  The town she wanted was west of Salt Lake City and just a couple miles from the school. Flat, arid land surrounded her, a few trees dotting the landscape. Lots of fencing and a few houses. The town reminded her of something from an old homesteading movie, but with concrete and asphalt instead of dirt trails.

  No one understood her interest, but they let her copy the information they had. She was friendly and chipper and very good at chatting people up. By the time she was finished with the fire station, she knew how many kids the chief had and when and where they were starting college.

  Tasha knew she was good at her job. The biggest part of that was observation. That’s why she knew she was being followed. He’d tried being casual about it, but the hairs on her neck still itched as she entered the half empty diner. It was almost seven and she couldn’t get to the library until morning. She needed food and some thinking time.

  She could just confront him. That was usually enough to send a guy running. Unless she ran into one that was a serious crazy person. Not a good thing.

  Dell caught the scent seconds before the hand dropped on his shoulder.

  Ripe, fresh tangerines. His mind had drifted to posing the question: would she be just as juicy and sweet? His gaze lifted from the paper he was jotting numbers on to meet a pair of wide amber eyes behind the clear, oval lenses that appeared to magnify her innocent allure.

  “This is going to sound incredibly lame,” she began softly. “But there’s this guy who’s been following me around all day and would you mind if I sat with you?”

  He raised the hand with the pen and gestured to the empty chair. Now he had an up close view of the girl from the plane. Very little makeup;
full, pink lips that even white teeth nibbled on as she stared through the large glass of the diner into the street outside. Her eyes were a pale brown and the honey colored hair was back in a snug little tail that curled high on her head. It was her voice and the tangerines that had the firmest grip on him.

  “You don’t live here,” he said quietly, looking over and catching the attention of the waitress. Water and a menu appeared within seconds. He was glad the place wasn’t crowded.

  “Oh…oh, no,” her head shook. “I’m just here on business. How did you know?”

  “Your voice.”

  “Huh…didn’t think Tacoma had an accent,” she thrust her palm toward him. “Tasha Banks. Thank you for letting me sit here. I’m not sure why he’s been following me, but it’s a little disturbing. I didn’t want to call the police. I suppose it’s possible it’s a coincidence.” Her nose wrinkled slightly. “I’m not the sort a guy stalks.”

  “Dell Russell,” he responded, wrapping a callous roughened palm around hers with a shake. “Please to meet you, Miss Banks…short for Natasha?”

  She grimaced and shrugged. “Mom teaches literature. She was evidently into a couple Russian authors at the time of my birth. I figure it could have been way worse.”

  “How very true,” he returned with a laugh. “I’m thinking a dinner date is a decent way to end the day.”

  “A…oh…I wasn’t…I’m not…I didn’t mean to imply…”

  “Taken?” He smiled, watching the eyebrows go up and then wide and then into a taut little frown, her head shaking in denial.

  “I…oh…me? Oh, heck no,” Tasha opened the menu and closed it quickly. “Look, it might seem that way, but I’m not picking you up. I don’t think I’ve ever even tried…really…I…oh-mi-god! He’s coming in the diner,” she whispered and picked up the menu again, holding it high and making an attempt to hide behind the print.

  “I’ll be damned,” Dell murmured beneath his breath, his gaze on the man who’d entered and sent her eyes so wide and not with excitement. A little younger than he was, maybe late twenties and definitely focused on the little blonde across from him. Well, five or six more years and a lot more experience pretty much guaranteed him the prize he’d set his sights on. “Maybe he needs a little practical demonstration.”

  “A little what?” Tasha peeked over the menu, thick lashes widening when he put a hand on the top and pressed until it was on the tabletop.

  Damn, she was cute. He cupped her chin, his thumb scraping over the full bow of her lower lip. The sound of his chair moving across the floor was barely noticed when he leaned in and kissed her, pulling that sweet, full lip between his teeth before settling down with a low groan at the softness.

  Her lashes had widened again. First, with denial in a faint shake of her head just before their lips met. He tasted something tart and lemony when his tongue parted her lips further and suddenly the heat outside felt mild compared to what shot through his system when her tongue decided to play the game, too. He’d raised his assessment and knew she wasn’t a college kid now that he’d seen her up close. And she damn well didn’t kiss like any girls he knew in college.

  He heard the menu crinkle while he was fencing with her tongue and the sound of a throat clearing above them made him reluctantly pull back.

  Chapter Twenty

  Tasha was sure she’d fallen into some portal and landed on the lap of a rugged looking man with a Stetson on the table, dark chocolate eyes and lips that held her gaze when he withdrew. She peered through half open lashes, swallowing hard and relaxing her fingers. She’d crumpled the menu just a little. She grimaced and pressed and flattened the pages.

  The slamming of the diner door snapped her out of it and she realized the man from the ruins had left.

  “Orders?” A bored sounding waitress hovered at the side, one brow raised expectantly.

  “Bacon cheeseburger, please, no onions,” Tasha answered, her gaze falling to the glass of ice water as she handed over the menu. “Fries…thank you.”

  “Same here…and more iced tea, please,” Dell continued to stare at her.

  “I’m not sure what that was supposed to accomplish…” she began when the waitress left to turn in their orders. She tried for bluster, straightened her shoulders and let her hands fall to her lap.

  “Territorial rights,” he answered, meeting the stunned expression on her face. “Males understand those. And smart ones, recognize it and back off.”

  “I…don’t think there’s a sane response to that one,” she said, clearing her throat nervously.

  “Tell me you’re old enough to kiss a man like that, Natasha Banks,” Dell leaned back in his chair, one hand falling to tug on the fabric of his jeans that was abruptly too damn tight around his cock. “And I think the kid following you has good taste. I’m not a fan of his method, but he has good taste.”

  Pale brown lashes blinked as if she were processing his words. “I’m thirty-two and you’re serious.”

  He laughed at the honest surprise in her voice. That silky voice that sort of glided over every nerve ending in his body with a promise he’d never been given before.

  “The boys where you live aren’t real good a treasure hunting,” he remarked, waiting until the large platters of food were laid out before them. “Thanks.” He said when the woman refilled his tea.

  “Treasure hunting?” She repeated, heat singing her cheeks.

  “Especially such a well-disguised treasure.” He worked to contain his laughter when she cleared her throat and tried to look like she was studying the table top.

  “Me?” Came the tiny squeak that had her instantly clearing her throat, glancing around to make sure people weren’t listening. “Oh, well… Are you a cowboy? The hat…the slight twang now and then…” She raised the top of the burger in casual inspection before lifting it and taking a hungry, healthy bite.

  “You don’t like talking about yourself, Miss Banks?”

  “Not really. Nothing much to talk about,” she looked up from the fries she’d dribbled ketchup over. “Thank you for helping me. I don’t know him. I don’t know why he’s following me. I was out at some ruins of an old school taking pictures and he was just there,” she shook her head, eating hungrily. “I had no idea I was so hungry. I think I missed lunch.”

  “Business that important?”

  “Engrossing,” she told him with a little nod. “Very engrossing. Mysteries are fascinating and tend to pull me in when I’m in the middle of one.”

  “You’re an investigator?” He heard the surprise in his voice as he bit into his own burger but with a mouthful, it was too late to apologize for the way it sounded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that to sound…this is a modern age and women can choose any career they find appealing.”

  “That sounds just a little contrived, Dell Russell. Like it’s been beat into your head,” she said with a laugh, one hand up and waving dismissingly. “It’s alright. I’m not offended and I’m not that kind. Like a private type? Heck, no. I actually work for the WindSwept Narrows in security. Mostly background checks and that kind of thing. I’m good at research, and like I said, puzzles.”

  “And you’re in Higley checking on a perspective employee? That must be a serious position you’re filling,” he commented curiously.

  “Just doing the job,” she answered with a vague shrug. “So? Are you really a cowboy?”

  “I look that worn, huh?” He said with a low laugh, one hand rubbing over the cheek and chin he hadn’t shaved that morning. “Guess I am a little on the rough side today.”

  “I think it goes with the hat and jeans,” she said with a nod and smile. “I figured it fit the area, too. You have to really love this desert thing to live here on purpose.”

  Tasha wondered about her ability to go from fire to fire as she ate her fries. Granted, this one didn’t seem anywhere near as off as the other one. He wore a comfortably fade cotton shirt that snapped down the front and had very faint blue lines
throughout. The sleeves were rolled to his elbows and the front open a few snaps, showing a smattering of darker gold coils on a tanned chest. The shadow on his cheeks and chin were just enough to be appealing; the strands of dark chocolate that teased the edges of his ears weren’t about to be contained or controlled. She could tell he’d spent a lot of time running his hands through his hair.

  “So tell me about your research project, Natasha.”

  “Tasha…please…just collecting a little background on the school that used to be here,” she looked up and smiled to herself when she’d spoke just loud enough to get the attention of the waitress. “I’m checking the library tomorrow and talking to a few people at city hall before heading home.”

  “What’s important about an old school?”

  “It’s actually not for work,” she lied glibly, shrugging. “I’m on a short vacation and I needed to look things over. I used to go there and wondered what happened to it.”

  “You attended the Academy?” The waitress asked, her gaze sweeping the young woman. She frowned. “News said everyone died in the fire. I never believed it, though. Never saw the kids in town…at least, not during the daylight,” she said with a little wink. “Doesn’t surprise me that you all headed off into the desert. Any place would be better than that school.”

  “I left the year before the fire,” Tasha answered with a smile. “Were you living here when the school was up and running?”

  “Lord, I’ve lived here my whole life. This is my diner,” she said proudly. “Best food in town, too.”

  “It really is a good burger,” Tasha complimented. “I never knew about the fire,” she continued casually. “I remember some of the teachers but haven’t been able to find them. Guess I know why now.”