Half an hour later and he was still waiting. If she was going to do another disappearing act, surely she’d have done it by now? The back entrance was clear. Apart from a van delivering water bottles, no one had entered or exited the building.
Was she still in there? He drove back around to the front and pulled over outside Afterburn. Her car was still in the VIP parking area, but as he’d discovered yesterday, that didn’t mean a goddamn thing. There was no way to find out without going in himself. He glance down at his jeans and checked shirt and grimaced. He looked more like a cowboy than a muscle man. He’d have to come up with some other excuse.
Crane drove up to the barrier and pressed the buzzer. He didn’t have a membership card to scan. A clipped voice answered. He said he was interested in joining, and the barrier lifted. He was told to report to reception.
He entered the parking lot and parked his pickup in one of the furthest bays from the front door. Even then it stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the multitude of sports cars and SUVs. Hardly incognito. But he had no choice, so he left it there and approached the entrance to the club.
“Excuse me,” he began, aiming his spiel at a pretty, young assistant at the front desk. He wondered if she was the one he’d spoken to on the intercom system. “I’m considering joining and I was wondering if someone could give me a tour of the place.” He grinned disarmingly. “My wife suggested I give it a try.”
The receptionist ran her eyes over his body. Thankfully, he was naturally broad-shouldered and his arms were built from all the kayaking. She gave a slow smile, liking what she saw. “Sure, no problem. I expect you’ll be interested in the free-weights section. Give me one minute and I’ll take you round myself.”
She picked up the phone, dialled a number and told whoever was on the other side they were needed at reception. Then she logged off her computer terminal and came around the desk. “Ready?”
Crane nodded. His eyes were already scanning the open-plan room filled with gym machines and weight equipment. Lycra-clad men and women sweated up a storm, pumping iron and admiring themselves in the huge floor-to-ceiling mirrors.
He couldn’t see Sarah anywhere.
“Could I see the studios first?” he asked, once he’d confirmed she wasn’t on this floor. The receptionist gave him a strange look, but nodded demurely. “Of course.”
They climbed a flight of stairs and walked through the upper level. Crane stared through the glass walls at people stretched out on gym mats, bending their pliable bodies over exercise balls and other props. Sarah wasn’t one of them. He sighed. This was not looking good.
“These are the change rooms,” pointed out the receptionist as they walked passed two sets of metallic swing doors. “They lead directly to the swimming pool.”
“I see,” Crane twisted his head to peer through the muted glass to the swimming pool below, when one set of metallic doors swung open. A lithe brunette in a work outfit and quirky, heavy-framed glasses came out. Crane wouldn’t have given her a second glance, except she got her heel caught on a tuft of carpeting and paused to wiggle it free. The movement caused her to lose her balance and she toppled slightly. Since Crane was only a metre away, he put his arm out to steady her. The woman glanced up at him in surprise.
“Thank you,” she murmured, flashing him the briefest of smiles. She had laughing brown eyes. Crane nodded and released her but didn’t move. He watched as she walked down the stairs towards the exit.
“Excuse me,” he called to the receptionist who was about to show him the aerobics studios. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. We can continue this another time.” Without waiting for a response, he dashed down the stairs after the brunette who had disappeared out of the front door.
So that was how she got out of the building without him noticing! She wore a disguise. Clever. Since he’d never seen her up close, it would have been nearly impossible for him to recognise her, if it hadn’t been for those eyes. That woman had the same dancing brown eyes he’d seen in the photograph.
The brunette made her way to a blue Ford Focus, one of the most common makes of car in America. After a quick glance around the parking lot, she climbed in. It was probably a hire car. Crane ducked behind a SUV just in time. As she pulled out of the lot he raced to his pickup berating himself for parking so far away. He dived into the driver’s seat and turned the ignition in one fluid motion. She was not going to get away from him this time.
Thinking how she’d waltzed out of the building yesterday, and driven away right under his nose made him cringe. She’d played him for a fool whether she knew he was watching or not. With grudging respect, he fell in line two cars behind her as she turned off the exit road and joined the mainstream traffic.
CHAPTER FIVE
Sarah drove north for twenty minutes, her fingers rigid on the steering wheel. Every few seconds she glanced into her review mirror and scanned the cars behind her. Nothing suspicious. Only once she was safely out of the city and had crossed the interstate bridge over the Columbia River into Vancouver, Washington, did she begin to relax. It was okay, there was no one following her. Nobody knew where she was going.
Her ploy had worked!
It was liberating being out from under Kaz’s watchful eye, and if it wasn’t for the seriousness of her subterfuge and the importance of her outing, she may have even enjoyed it.
Her husband had been having her followed for months now. Ever since news of Chris’s death had reached her. She could feel it. Sense it. He didn’t think she knew, but she did. She knew better than most what Kaz was capable of.
Darling Chris. How can you be dead?
She could still picture his handsome, smiling face, as familiar to her as if she’d woken up next to him that morning. If only…
Tears prickled her eyes but she blinked them away. If she started bawling now she wouldn’t be able to drive and there was something very important she needed to do. There were questions which needed to be answered. Questions like: Why had the boat capsized? How had Chris been swept overboard? And why, for God’s sake, wasn’t he wearing a lifejacket?
The Chris she knew would never have made those basic mistakes. He was a professional seaman. His business was taking tourists deep sea fishing. He knew the waters off the Oregon coastline better than almost anyone else alive. In addition, his best friends and fishing buddies, Rick and Chef, had been on board with him too. Collectively, the men had over sixty years boating experience. Capsized in a sudden squall just didn’t sound right.
When she’d read the news article about the accident six months ago, a horrible suspicion had begun gnawing at her, something too terrible to even contemplate, yet she couldn’t get rid of it. It had festered and festered until finally she’d decided to do something about it. It was risky, going against her husband’s wishes and breaking her word. The consequences could be disastrous – and not only for herself – but it was a risk worth taking. She had to know the truth.
The little blue Ford Focus she’d rented the day before handled the stop-start traffic through Vancouver with ease. Soon she was speeding up again, the lazy meandering river on her left and the city behind her. The further away she got, the more the landscape changed from urban sprawl to lush green countryside. The N.W. Pacific Highway was far less grand than it sounded – just a single lane in both directions with white striping down the centre to separate the opposing flows of traffic. At this time of day it was practically deserted. Several minutes went by without Sarah spotting another car.
She used to love this drive, leaning with the camber of the road as it wound through the wooded landscape, marvelling at the multitude of trees and foliage vying for space, sometimes meeting overhead, casting moving shadows onto the tarmac.
She drove through a few small, riverside towns until she reached the Lewis and Clark Bridge between Longview, Washington and Rainier, Oregon. This was the final stretch, the point where, in the past, she’d feel the tingle of anticipation at the thought of seeing Chris.
There was no anticipation now, for there was no Chris. Not anymore.
She opened her window and gulped in the fresh river air in an effort to stop the nausea from rising. Even though she’d got over the pain of his death, she’d never stop missing him.
Sarah gazed at the familiar, yet strangely foreign landscape with moist eyes. She hadn’t visited these parts in a long time, not since Kaz had beaten Chris senseless after he’d found out about their affair. That had been almost five years ago. She supposed her husband had every reason to hate Chris. He’d been her high school sweetheart, and then several years later, her lover. An obsessively jealous type, Kaz had never got over it.
Sarah thought back to the first year she was married. Kaz had been so dynamic and virile back then. He’d graduated top of his class at Stanford and had excellent prospects. His mother, a well-known aid worker turned author, was respected for her high profile charity work, and her own parents were fond of an alliance. So when Kaz had proposed, Sarah accepted immediately. Marrying someone with his strikingly good looks and social standing made sense – or so she was told. It hadn’t even occurred to her to resist.
The first few months of married life were relatively happy. Then came the news which would change everything. Sarah remembered vividly where she was when the phone call had come in. It had been a lovely summer’s day, the kind that makes you feel lazy and content. She’d been outside in the garden, tending the lavender, a pitcher of lemonade on the table when she heard a shout. She ran into the house to see what was wrong and that’s when she’d found Kaz sitting on the floor with his head in his hands.
“Whatever is the matter?” she’d asked in alarm, thinking he’d injured himself.
Her husband had looked at her with an expression of such hatred, her blood had run cold.
“What is it?” She’d dropped to her knees next to him.
“They’ve killed my father,” was all he said. When she tried to embrace him, he pushed her away. “The Taliban,” he rasped. “The bastards have killed my father. The whole village is destroyed.”
“Oh God! I’m so sorry.” Sarah hadn’t then understood the magnitude of what had just happened.
“I must go.” Kaz stood up and stared at her with fanatical eyes. Sarah got the feeling he wasn’t even seeing her. “I have to go to Afghanistan. To my father’s family. I have to see if there is anyone left.”
“Of course.” Sarah’s legs turned to jelly. She couldn’t believe this was happening. They’d only just got married. “When will you leave?”
“Immediately.”
Kaz had boarded a plane that very evening for Afghanistan and Sarah hadn’t see him again for two years.
It was six months after Kaz had left that Chris had come back into her life. A trip to the coastal town of Astoria with some girlfriends for the weekend resulted in her bumping into her high school sweetheart at a seaside bar. They’d hit it off immediately.
Sarah hadn’t once heard from Kaz since he’d left. Not a garbled phone call, not an email, not even a hastily scribbled letter or postcard. Nothing. She didn’t know whether he was dead or alive, and she’d begun to resent the fact that he hadn’t bothered to contact her. Didn’t he know she’d be worried? His high-flying mother had been tight-lipped, and apart from confirming he was alive, didn’t have any other news. It seemed Kaz had given up on his American wife.
Sarah began seeing a lot of Chris. At first it was fairly casual. They’d go out with mutual friends or walk along the beach and talk about old times. Then one evening, after a particularly fun day water-skiing on the river, Chris kissed her. Sarah wondered if she ought to resist, but she couldn’t think of a single reason why. Kaz had abandoned her and to be honest, the feelings she’d developed for Chris over the past few weeks far outshone any she’d ever had for her husband. In fact, looking back she couldn’t work out why she’d married him at all.
Their affair had continued until one day, Sarah – who had moved into Chris’s house in Astoria – went back to Portland for a doctor’s appointment, stopping off briefly at her old place to pick up some clothes and to her horror, discovered Kaz was back.
Crane followed Sarah as she drove through the leafy suburbs of Astoria. It was hilly and traffic was sparse. He was careful to keep a reasonable distance between them so she wouldn’t know he was tailing her. It had been trickier in Washington State, as he’d had to keep one bend back, so as to be out of her line of sight on the deserted highway. Every now and then he’d spotted the glint off her back window through the trees as the sun hit it confirming she was still in front of him. Vehicle surveillance wasn’t his forte, but somehow he’d managed it, only accelerating into view as she’d approached the interstate bridge.
At the top of the hill, she turned right and crawled along in second gear, peering at the house numbers until she came to a non-descript double-storey house similar to all the others on the street. He held back unable to approach without being noticed. The Ford Focus slowed right down then turned into a driveway and came to a stop.
Crane inched forward. He wanted to get close enough to see who opened the door. Luckily, a family emerged from a house across the street and piled into a old Land Rover, laughing and chatting and waving goodbye to someone inside. The distraction allowed him to creep even closer. Three hundred yards from the house he cut the engine. She hadn’t climbed out of the car yet. What was she doing?
He reached for his binoculars. He could see her checking her reflection in the review mirror. Then, she put her hand up and removed the wig, stashing it under the front seat of the car.
Interesting. So her lover was aware of her real identity. The subterfuge was for another reason, obviously meant for whoever was tailing her. So she suspected her husband had her under surveillance. That, in itself, was telling.
She still didn’t come across as the type to have an affair, but then he’d been wrong about her before, and to be fair, what kind of woman pretended to go to gym, then slipped out in disguise? One with something to hide, that’s who.
The door to the house opened and a man in his fifties walked out to greet her. Sarah climbed out of her car. Crane readjusted his binoculars. The guy was nothing special. Average height, average weight, thinning hair. Crane would have bet good money this was not a love affair, but then Sarah threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. Not a short hug, but a longer, more clingy embrace and judging from her body language, it looked emotional. The man put an arm around her and led her into the house, shutting the door behind them.
“Oh, Rick. It’s so good to see you. I’m sorry I haven’t been sooner. I wanted to, it’s just…” She petered off.
Rick avoided her gaze. “I understand. You couldn’t get away.”
Her old friend had aged. The trauma of losing his two best buddies was evident in the greying hair and the empty, sad expression in his eyes.
Sarah nodded, fighting back tears. She stood inside the doorway and gripped both his hands. “Please tell me what happened? I heard it was an accident. Is that true?” Her eyes searched his for answers.
Rick hung his head. “I don’t know, sweetheart. It’s all a bit of a blur. Let’s go and sit down and I’ll tell you what I know.” He led her into a cosy lounge with padded armchairs and a well-used leather sofa covered in home-knitted scatter cushions. Sarah recalled Beth, his wife, was a keen knitter.
He gestured for her to sit. “I got knocked out. It’s a miracle they found me and pulled me out of the water.” He raised his eyes to the ceiling. “I guess it wasn’t my time to go.”
“What about Chris and Chef? What happened to them?”
Rick sat down opposite her, but didn’t lean back. His face was earnest as he said, “It was weird, Sarah. There was this freak storm. I’ve never seen anything like it. All of a sudden we were battling waves thirty, forty-feet high. Lucky Strike was lurching all over the place like a goddam rocking horse, it was all Chris could do to hang on.”
Sarah listened intently. Sh
e could see by Rick’s face it hurt to talk about it, but she needed to know. Needed to understand how he’d died. “And then…?”
“I don’t know. I went below deck to fetch the lifejackets and lost my footing. I must have hit my head and blacked out because I don’t remember anything after that. The next thing I know, the coast guard is pulling me out from under the hull. I woke up on the deck of the rescue boat, puking my lungs out.”
“And Chris and Chef?”
Rick’s voice was heavy with sorrow. “They must have been washed overboard. Chef was found shortly after me, but they were too late. He didn’t make it.”
“And Chris. What about Chris?”
Rick shook his head. “I’m sorry Sarah. They never found him. They searched for forty-eight hours before they called it a day.”
Her face crumpled. He reached for her hand. “No one could survive out there for that long. The water was freezing and he didn’t have a lifejacket on.”
Sarah let out a great sob. “Oh God, Rick. What a disaster! Poor Chris. If only I’d been here, been with him.”
“There’s nothing you could have done, love,” Rick said gently. “The chances are we’d still have been out on the water that day.”
She sniffed. “I know. It’s just…I feel like I should have been here, you know. In his life.”
Rick nodded. They were silent for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts or in her case, regrets.
“How is that husband of yours treating you?” Rick asked softly.
Sarah dried her eyes. There was no point in crying over what could have been. She’d made her choice when Kaz had come back, or rather, it had been made for her. For better or for worse – those were the rules. She gritted her teeth. God, she hated her husband.
“Okay,” she lied. Living with Kaz was a nightmare but she couldn’t tell that to Rick. He wouldn’t get it. No one would. Because they didn’t know her dirty little secret.
Undercurrent: A P.I. Munro Crane Romantic Suspense Thriller Page 4