I’ll keep you posted.
Then I broke texting etiquette and sent Jill a paragraph-long message about what happened to Kira and my afternoon stakeout. The rule of thumb is that any text longer than two sentences warrants a phone call. I hate it when my phone gets spammed with long, convoluted messages that could easily be covered in a quick phone call. But I couldn’t fill Jill in while she was loading a shopping cart with enough candy to supply an entire neighborhood at Halloween.
OMG! Megs, be careful!
After promising Jill that I would watch my back and keep her in the loop, I shifted my focus to what to wear. After laying every single item of clothing that I had packed on the bed, I finally decided on a pink gingham sundress with a scoop neck and flare skirt that hit just below my knees. I twisted my hair with the flat iron so that it flipped slightly over my ears, dusted my eyelids with a pink shimmer eye shadow, and added a matching sparkly gloss to my lips. My eyes looked greener than usual. Maybe it was the contrast with the pink shadow. Either way I felt good about my appearance and finished off the look by clipping one side of my hair back with an antique silver barrette. Not half bad, Meg, I told myself as I tucked my phone and lip gloss into a vintage pink clutch and headed to meet Matt.
Why did my stomach feel like a bundle of nerves? It was just Matt. We had had dinner, pints, lunch a hundred times. Why did I feel nervous tonight?
The Italian restaurant where I was meeting him was a short walk on the waterfront path from my hotel. Dusk swathed the wide-open sky. Purple and pink light reflected off the top of Mt. Bachelor and gave the Deschutes a glorious flush. Paddleboarders glided over the river as the sun continued to sink. Despite the dwindling light the evening air was warm and smelled of jasmine. I spotted Matt sitting at an outdoor table next to a wood-burning fireplace. My heart lurched when he waved.
“Wow, Megs, you look amazing,” Matt said, standing and pulling out my chair for me.
“You don’t look too bad yourself,” I said with a wink. It was true. Usually Matt’s wardrobe consisted of T-shirts with popular memes and cargo shorts. Tonight he wore a pair of well-cut khakis and a blue-striped short-sleeved dress shirt. The shirt made his eyes look aquamarine.
“I ordered a bottle of wine.” Matt grinned. “I know how much you love Chianti.”
“Wine. What’s the occasion?” I joked.
Twinkle lights, strung from the restaurant to the patio, flickered overhead and a waiter lit the fire. There was no denying the romantic atmosphere, particularly with our front-row seat to a spectacular sunset over the river.
“No occasion. I’m secretly hoping that you’ll fall in love with Bend, that’s all.” Matt poured strawberry-colored wine into my glass. “I really love it here, Megs. And Blazen is awesome. The team is so much fun. They have beer on tap! I’m lucky if I get a black coffee at the O.”
“It’s hard to argue with free beer,” I agreed.
“That’s just a small part of what they’re offering,” Matt continued, swirling his wineglass. “They’re giving me profit sharing and a signing bonus. My salary will be almost double what I’m making now, and the cost of living here is way more manageable than Portland these days. I could probably even buy a condo here.”
I took a sip of the earthy wine and breathed in the smell of the low-burning fire behind Matt. It wasn’t cranking out heat, at least not yet. Maybe once the sun had completely disappeared under the horizon the waitstaff would add extra logs to the fireplace and turn on the portable heaters around the patio, but for now the smell of hickory smoke and dancing flames added to the fairy-tale vibe. Even the wine, which wasn’t usually my drink of choice, felt smooth as it slid down the back of my throat.
“That’s great, Matt.” I fiddled with my napkin. “But are you sure you want to give up journalism?”
“No.” He ran his fingers through his sandy hair. “It will be hard to walk away, but at the same time I see the future. Things aren’t going to change, Megs. They’re only going to get worse. I’m lucky I even have a job, but let’s be realistic. How long do you think the paper is going to stay in operation?”
“Do you think it’s going to come to that?”
“I don’t know, but I know that it’s getting thinner and thinner and that I’m getting paid to write sensational headlines. It’s not what I signed up for in j-school.”
A waiter arrived with a plate of Italian breadsticks and marinara sauce. I took a moment to think about my response. “I understand everything that you’re saying, but you write the tech beat. Don’t you think that will give you job security? I mean, worst-case scenario the paper goes completely digital—that’s your beat, right?”
Matt dunked a breadstick in the sauce. “Yeah, but at the end of the day I’m still writing clickbait. Probably even more if we go fully digital.”
He had a point, and as much as I didn’t want him to give up a career in journalism, I didn’t want to see him become disillusioned either. “Think about it, Megs. You could move here. You can write for Northwest Extreme from anywhere, right? You don’t have to be in Portland. It’s only a few hours if you needed to be in the office for a meeting or something, but you’re always out in the field anyway.”
I sighed and took a bite of the hot, spicy breadstick. It had been brushed with butter, garlic salt, and a blend of Italian seasonings. “I don’t even know if I’ll have a job by the time I get home. I think Greg wants to sell.”
“Even better. I can ask around at Blazen. You’ve crushed social media. I’m sure you can land something out here.”
I nodded and studied the menu. I was flattered that Matt wanted me to move to Bend, but was that what I wanted? His earnest blue eyes made me want to pack my bags and move right away, but I needed time to think about what was next for me. If Greg did end up selling the magazine, I probably could get a job in social media, but that would mean abandoning my dream. Journalism was in my blood. I had never considered any other career. Was I willing to give it up for good?
We ordered, and once our food came I changed the subject and told Matt what I’d seen at the warehouse.
“Megs, I thought we agreed that you were going to wait for me before we did anything.”
“I couldn’t sit still. I promise I tried, but I know that we’re close this time, Matt. I can feel it.” I stabbed at my penne pasta.
He gave me a look of empathy, and then frowned. “I get it, but this is way too dangerous. At least two people are already dead. We have to be strategic about this. I have a call scheduled first thing in the morning with the DEA agent. Until then we do nothing. Got it?”
“Got it.” I could tell there was no chance that I was going to change his mind. We finished our dinner and agreed to talk as soon as he finished his conversation with the DEA agent. Neither of us returned to the conversation about moving to Bend. I think Matt must have sensed my hesitation.
After our waiter had cleared our dinner plates he returned with a chocolate masterpiece. “What’s this?” I asked Matt.
He handed me a fork. “Dessert. Give it a stab.”
I cut into the cake and watched in awe as gooey melted chocolate poured from its center.
“Lava cake!” Matt dug in with his fork. “I couldn’t resist.”
We devoured the dense, warm cake and then Matt walked me back to the hotel, holding my hand in his and commenting on the profusion of stars above us. “That’s Mars!” He pointed out the glowing red planet on a star-tracker app on his phone. Of course Matt had an app for that.
When we made it to the lobby of the hotel, he dropped my hand and leaned in. I could feel his breath on my cheek and smell a hint of his shaving cream. My stomach flopped and my cheeks warmed with heat. “Megs, think about Bend, okay?” His voice was breathy. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Then he bent closer and kissed me softly. I didn’t want the kiss to end. The caress of Matt’s gentle kiss might be worth ditching my career as a reporter. He pulled away after a minute, brushed his hand over my
hair, and smiled. “See you tomorrow, Megs.”
It was probably a good thing that Matt hadn’t been up for another stakeout. I danced upstairs to my room, floating on a cloud from Matt’s kiss. He wanted me to move to Bend. Could I do that? Portland had been the only city I’d ever called home. Was I willing to give my home up for love? And what if things didn’t work out with us? What if I moved and then we broke up? I’d be stranded in the high desert alone.
Okay, maybe that was a tad dramatic, but I had a lot to think about. I took off my dress and changed into comfy pajamas. Then I slid open the glass doors on the patio, allowing the cooling night air and the sound of frogs singing along the Deschutes to permeate my room. Had it really been this morning that I had discovered Kira’s body? Who could have killed her? Sam had smuggled rock samples, but I couldn’t picture him as a killer. Harley and Kira had definitely not been besties, but what would be Harley’s motive for killing her? And then there was Congressman Riley. I didn’t trust him, but I couldn’t figure out why he would want Kira dead either.
What about the homeless kids I’d seen at the warehouse? Were they just vagabonds who had found a good place to take shelter from the heat and elements, or could they have a connection to PDJ? I couldn’t stop questions from looping in my head. After an hour of tossing and turning, I made myself a cup of scalding hot tea and practiced a centering technique I had learned from Gam.
“Margaret, when you need to quiet the noise in your brain, simply focus on your breathing,” she would say.
I sipped the tea, sat on the floor with my legs crossed, and began breathing in a slow rhythm—inhaling through my nose, holding my breath for five seconds, and then exhaling through my mouth. The technique must have worked, because I found myself feeling warm and sleepy, so I crawled into bed and crashed the minute my head hit the pillow.
Chapter 14
I didn’t wake until my cell phone buzzed the next morning. At first I thought it was Matt, but I realized that it was only my alarm. I had received an e-mail from Professor LeAnna letting everyone know that since we wouldn’t be able to access the lava cave for another day, she was going to take anyone who was interested on a walking tour of the caldera and surrounding lava beds. I didn’t have anything better to do with my morning, nor did I have a new story angle to pursue, so a walking tour sounded like perfection.
Matt told me he would call as soon as he had spoken with the DEA agent. There was nothing for me to do in the meantime but wait. I laced up my pink hiking boots and pulled on a pair of lightweight hiking pants and a pale pink tank top. Then I tugged on my fleece hoodie. I had a feeling that once the sun came all the way up and we started hiking I wouldn’t need it, but the morning air held a slight chill.
The Newberry National Volcanic Monument covered more than fifty thousand acres of lava fields, lakes, and stunning geological features. We would be hiking up to the top of Lava Butte. From what I’d read in my research, the view from the top of the butte offered sweeping views of the high lava plains, obsidian flows, and natural mountains of glass. The thought of climbing nine hundred feet in the increasing heat didn’t excite me, but at least it would be a welcome distraction from everything that had happened yesterday while I waited to hear from Matt.
Lava Butte was unlike any of the other geological features in the desert. It formed more than seven thousand years ago, leaving behind a cinder cone and miles of black lava flows in its wake. I knew I had arrived at the site before the butte came into view based on the mammoth piles of black and red lava rock on the side of the highway. It was easy to see where the lava had flowed, damming the Deschutes River and creating new lakes, thousands of years before my time on the planet. It made me feel like something bigger and greater than myself and insignificant in the scope of time all at once.
I arrived at the base of the volcano to snap some pictures for Northwest Extreme. Most visitors opted to drive the one-lane, red lava rock road to the summit of the cinder cone, but our group was hiking up to the top this morning. The road switched back and forth. This wasn’t going to be a quick little hike. I frantically tried to come up with a reason to drive up, but the thought of driving near the edge of the tiny road wasn’t on the top of my list of things to do either.
Great. Now what Meg?
I was about to jump back in my car and say forget it when Sam showed up.
“Hey, how’s it going?” he said, looping a backpack over one shoulder. He wore his khaki dig vest with a variety of trowels, paintbrushes, and chisels stuffed in the pockets.
“Pretty good,” I lied.
“Can you believe that Professor LeAnna wants us to hike this? It’s supposed to be ninety by mid-morning and we’re going to be totally exposed.”
He had a good point. I glanced behind us to the towering butte. Young ponderosa pines hugged the base of the mountain, but as the road twisted up toward the summit the trees began to thin. Above us, the sun’s rays illuminated the red rock. I could only imagine how hot the lava rocks would become by noon.
“To be honest I was kind of surprised to get her e-mail invite last night. I thought that the entire tour had been arranged by Kira and the Forest Service.”
“It was.” Sam nodded and stuck a baseball cap on his head. It reminded me of something that Matt would wear, made to look like a retro trucker’s hat with a beer logo. “It’s weird. But there’s a lot of weirdness going on right now.” He reached into the pocket of his vest and handed me a tube of sunscreen. “You better slather this on.”
“Thanks,” I said, taking the tube and tugging off my hoodie. I tied it around my waist and rubbed sunscreen on my arms and shoulders. “What do you mean about weirdness?”
“I overheard Professor LeAnna on the phone yesterday afternoon. We couldn’t get back into the cave, so we spent the day cataloging samples in the lab. She was arguing with someone over getting back into the cave, and then she agreed to take everyone on this tour this morning. I don’t get it. The only thing I can think of is that someone high up asked her as a favor and maybe she’s hoping that if she does this they’ll let her back down in the cave.”
“Why wouldn’t they just have Dupree take the lead?”
Sam laughed. “Have you seen Dupree with Congressman Riley and Harley? I don’t think that would go over well if the goal of this whole thing is to try to find common ground.”
“Fair point.”
“I’ve never hiked to the top,” Sam said, pointing above us. “It’s a long way up there.”
“Tell me about it.” I handed him his tube of sunscreen.
He proceeded to apply the lotion to his arms and face. “What, are you afraid of heights or something?”
“Something.” I winced. Then I remembered Sam’s coat. “Hang on, I have your coat for you.” I walked to my car and took Sam’s coat out of the back. The rock samples hung like dead weight in his pockets. I figured this was my best chance to ask him about them since we were alone.
Handing him his coat, I considered my words. “I don’t mean to seem like a snoop or anything, but I found some rock samples in your coat pocket when I was wearing it.”
Sam’s face turned as red as the lava rocks. A look of panic rushed across his face. I watched his chest heave as he grabbed his coat from my hands. “Damn.”
“What?”
“You’ve seen the signs, right?”
I shook my head. “What signs?”
He pointed to a wooden sign at the beginning of the lava road. It read DON’T BE A ROCK RAIDER! I walked closer to read the fine print, which warned tourists that damaging or removing even small samples of rock degrades the national monument and was illegal. Visitors were encouraged to report any violators to the Forest Service rangers. I thought about Kira telling me that she had her rangers watching for Harley to make one wrong move—like stealing a rock. I had thought she was being dramatic. She must have been serious.
“It’s illegal to remove rocks,” I said, returning to Sam.
H
e nodded, glancing behind us to make sure that no other cars had arrived yet. They hadn’t. There were only three cars in the parking lot—mine, Sam’s Jeep, and another that must have belonged to a group of hikers who I spotted halfway up the cinder cone. “Can you do me a favor and keep that on the down low?” Sam asked.
“Why?”
“Well, technically speaking, we’re not supposed to remove anything from the cave.”
“I thought I overheard Kira asking you about that the other night.” I wished I had brought a hat. The sun was hot on the top of my head.
“Yeah, she did. I don’t know how she knew that I had taken them. That’s another weird thing.” He kicked the red rock at our feet.
He hadn’t actually explained why he had taken the samples. I decided to press him. “Especially since she’s dead.”
Sam’s face fell back as if I had slapped him and he was ducking. “Oh, my God, you think that I killed her?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t say that, but it is kind of unsettling that you lied to Kira about taking the samples.”
He took off his baseball hat and flipped it in his hands. “No, no, you don’t understand. It’s not like that.”
I waited.
“Can you keep a secret?”
I nodded. In truth, if he told me anything that I thought Detective Summer needed to know, I would have to share that. I’d learned my lesson the hard way when it came to keeping pertinent information from the police.
“Professor LeAnna asked me to take the samples.”
“Why?” I reached into my pocket and pulled out my pink sunglasses. Thank goodness I had remembered to bring them. Pushing them up the bridge of my nose I waited for Sam to answer.
“No idea. I knew that we weren’t supposed to remove anything without filling out a lengthy stack of paperwork, but when I asked her about it, she said not to worry, that she and Kira had worked out a special deal to cut through all the government red tape.”
“What kind of special deal?”
In Cave Danger Page 10