“Probably.” Though if he did, there was no way Phillip could tell them what he discovered. “Stone is going to hook him up with Windy. Phillip may be good with computers, but if anyone can track a felon, it’s Windy.” Tiny furrows indented across Jacqueline’s forehead. “Windy is Gaelic’s nickname.” She looked even more confused. “Stone’s sister. The one with the FBI.” Light dawned.
“I think Grandma mentioned her. Doesn’t she investigate plane crashes?”
He nodded. “Not all crashes are pilot error or mechanical failures. Some are murder.” Link sipped his coffee. Jacqueline’s expressive eyes widened. She bit her lower lip and he wondered what it would be like to nibble that lip himself.
A small tremor of desire shook him as the waitress slid a heaping plate of food in front of him. “Thanks,” he said. “It looks good.” For several minutes, Link ate and watched Jacqueline chew as thoughts played across her face. After several minutes, curiosity won and he asked what she was thinking about.
“About the crazies in the world.” Her fork shoved a bite of egg around her plate. “People blow things up simply to get their names in headlines or because they think they can improve lives by destroying them. It’s really senseless. Know what I mean?” She sipped her water.
“Do you have something specific in mind?” Like her husband’s death. “Or are you being as general as the IRA or Taliban terror tactics?”
“I was wondering if my stalker belonged to some weird faction.” She pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “The way he handles issues seems senseless or something a weird cult would do to improve things.”
“He must have a reason.”
“What do you think it is?” Jacqueline asked.
As Link settled back, the chair creaked. “I’m pretty sure this guy is a solo act.” She nodded in agreement. “Everyone does things for a reason. Maybe they don’t make sense to anyone else, but they are reasonable to at least one person; for this stalker-guy, it’s writing notes.”
“I guess I should be grateful that he isn’t some demented terrorist bomber with dozens of like-minded brethren, ready to launch a jihad,” she said.
Link nodded in agreement.
“Sometimes I feel like Frodo, with Gollum sneaking around behind me.” He wondered what she meant. “I guess you haven’t read Tolkien or seen the movies.”
“No,” he admitted.
“Frodo was a hobbit who became the ring bearer. Gollum had been the ring’s previous keeper. Unfortunately, he became psychotic about not having it. Anyway, when Frodo became the new ring bearer, Gollum stalked him all over Middle Earth.”
“Hobbit?” She nodded. “I saw some ads.”
She sighed. “My problem is that I haven’t got any rings.” She held up her hands. The ring finger on her left hand didn’t even have a shadow from where a wedding band would have been.
Link gazed at Jacqueline’s serious expression. “Do you think that some event or object drew this guy’s attention to you?”
She shrugged. “Whoever he is, something motivated him to start writing.” She moved the fork’s tines through the golden goo that had once been an egg. “It must be something big since he’s kept writing for three years. Despite the fact that I can’t figure the situation out, he’s consistent, so it can’t be a random pattern.”
“Didn’t you say each shape was different? That the color of the ink had changed?” She nodded. “Doesn’t exactly sound consistent to me.”
She rubbed her forehead. “But the stuff he lists has stayed the same. Maybe he seems methodical because of that and because he’s always used the same familiar tone in his notes, no matter what color ink.”
“By lists, you mean the love analogies?”
Jacqueline nodded. “I keep feeling I should know him. Yet he’s a mystery to me.” She rubbed her upper arms as if chilled. “I don’t like the eerie feeling that he knows me, but I don’t have a clue who he is.”
“I imagine celebrities feel the same way. People watch them doing their jobs: singing, acting, whatever, and feel they know the individual. Then, if their silver screen idol crosses their path in real life, they act accordingly.”
“I can definitely identify with that,” Jacqueline said, then quickly added. “if I ever tried to sing, every wolf within ten miles would howl an accompaniment. As for acting,” she grimaced, “I believe playing mind games is a total waste of time.”
Remembering the letters she’d admitted writing to the actor, Link understood why she seemed uncomfortable with the topic. He preferred dealing with real issues, too. That was one of the things that he admired about Mavis. The more he got to know Jacqueline, the better he liked her. Yes, she had her flaws, just like everyone else, but she was a good person.
As Link finished eating, he wondered what the stalker’s plans were and he hoped the man didn’t plan an ambush.
17
Jacqueline’s fingers tightened on the paddle as she resisted looking back to see if he was following. To release frustration, she dipped the paddle into the glacial water. The canoe surged forward faster and faster.
“I thought the idea was to contact the guy, not race him,” Link said.
“But he doesn’t have to know that.” With every mile that separated them from humanity, her feeling of unease intensified. Had she made the right choice? While she tried to understand this unprecedented sensation, they passed driftwood, boulders, and tiny gnarled trees. Half the time, she wished she’d escaped on Linkstone’s plane the day before and the other half the time she wished she’d insisted that Link leave.
“If that’s what you want.” The power of Link’s paddle joined hers and soon they were far away from the settlement.
Intuition told her that if she’d fled the river at Fort Yukon, this sense of uncertainty would have haunted her for another four thousand miles or three years, whichever came first. Whatever else she might think about the ‘ghost’, the man was tenacious. It was too bad he didn’t use that quality for a more civilized enterprise.
She took a deep calming breath and exhaled slowly. No matter how much she might want to retreat, there was no going back. The Yukon River flowed one way, and they were destined to follow it as far as the North Slope Haul Road, where Stone would meet them.
Jacqueline hoped a week would be enough time to accomplish her goal. She glanced back at Link, who was rubbing the back of his ear. She turned around and chewed her lower lip. Link rubbed his ear when something bothered him. It was an odd, endearing habit. Only now, knowing he was worried increased her tension.
“You about ready to stop for lunch?” he asked.
“Sure.” Jacqueline gestured to a large gravel beach about a quarter mile downstream. “How about there?”
With a twist of his wrists, Link sent them in the new direction.
Once there, they made sandwiches while staring up river. After about ten minutes, the kayak hove into sight, but it quickly reversed direction.
Link rubbed the back of his ear several more times. Finally, Jacqueline couldn’t take the silence any more. “What do you think he’s doing?”
He took a bite. “If he’s smart, he’s eating lunch.”
“That’s not what you think. You’re worried.”
“No more than I have been for the past several days.” He rubbed the back of his ear.
“Yes, you are. You always try to calm yourself by doing that. It’s the same thing my brother does to settle his dog’s nerves.”
“What?” Link stared at her as if she’d sprouted two heads.
She mimicked him. “Rory does that to Konica to calm her when she’s bouncing around.” Belatedly, Jacqueline realized she might have offended Link and clamped her lips together.
His full, rich laughter rippled across the sandbar. “You’re right, it’s a bad habit. But in this case, I’ve got a mosquito bite.”
She leaned toward him. “Let me look at it.” She pushed aside his golden hair. “Mmm. Not a mosquito. I think this
is a no-see-em bite. I’ll get a tea bag.”
“I’m fine,” he protested. Link acted like her brother, Rory, who could have a compound fracture and still vehemently deny that he needed medical care. Jacqueline had a pretty good idea where Rory had gotten his hatred of the medical profession, though she doubted that Link had gotten his attitude from her grandmother.
“Sure you are. But if we don’t get this taken care of, you’ll be in misery.” She got to her feet and went to the dry goods container. Moments later, she came back with a tea bag, which she soaked in hot water. Carefully, she positioned it over the swollen red skin. “There, that should do it. Can you hold it there for a minute?”
“I’m fine. Really.”
“Sure you are. Just hold it in place while I find something to secure it, and you’ll feel better. Trust me on this. I don’t know what it is about tea, but this is the best way I know to deal with this sort of problem.”
Link sighed. He looked so much like a petulant little boy that Jacqueline was tempted to kiss him. Her heart did a flip at the thought. She moved away before she could follow through on her wayward idea. What was wrong with her? Did she have to fall for every guy she got isolated with? Was there some Adam and Eve syndrome at work? They were alone in the middle of a wilderness, so she felt the need to do something. But what? Not mother him. This was nothing like her relationship with Adam. Jacqueline dug in her duffel bag and found a clean bandana at the bottom. She folded the fabric and returned to Link.
“You know, this remedy of yours actually seems to be working.” Link looked surprised.
“Of course it is. I’ve used it for years, but it needs to remain in place for several hours to be totally effective.” Kneeling next to him, she secured the tea poultice. She sat back on her heels and surveyed her work. A smile played at the corners of her mouth. The off-center wrap made Link look like a rakish blond buccaneer. At the thought of a pirate piloting such an insignificant vessel, she coughed to cover a chuckle.
“I wondered why you packed all those generic tea bags and only drank herbal tea.”
“Now you know.”
“From the look on your face, I look ridiculous.”
“The red looks nice with your coloring.”
He rolled his eyes heavenward, but seemed pleased with the comment. “Do you want to put up the sign asking for the meeting now or later?”
“Maybe we should do it now. If he’s willing to face me and talk, we might get this thing resolved by nightfall.”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
Jacqueline got to her feet, dusted off the knees of her jeans and wished it were as easy to sweep away her dread. “I’ll get the poster board and marker.”
“What will you write?” Link asked.
She stared at him. “What would you suggest?”
“Beats me. What do you want to say?”
Jacqueline glared upstream. “Forget chit chat and friendly invitations. I want to chew him up into itty-bitty pieces and spit him out, but if I write something hostile, he’ll never meet me face to face.”
“Animosity attracts animosity?”
She nodded. “That’s why it must be a friendly invitation.” Her fingers tightened around the marker and her arm rose as if to stab the paper.
“How about simply inviting him to join us for dinner?”
“That might work.” Her tense muscles relaxed. “I can write, ‘Stalker, join us for dinner and an explanation’.”
“Stalker is the way you think of him. He probably has some sort of virtuous view of his actions.” Link shifted and stretched. As always, he was right. Jacqueline sighed. “Why don’t you simply write, ‘yellow kayak, please join us for dinner this evening.’ It’s plain and to the point.”
“I like it.” With bold strokes and large block letters, Jacqueline printed out the words, then held up the sign for his inspection.
“What do you think?”
He gave her a thumb up. “Prop it up so he can read it as he comes downstream, then let’s get packed and go.”
Fifteen minutes later, as the current carried them downstream, Jacqueline calculated the odds of having the answers to her questions before the day was over and her anticipation mixed with dread. Her tension increased until her hand trembled.
Two hours later, as they rounded a bend, she spotted a grizzly bear on the far bank. It stood on three legs, its fourth paw raised and ready. The bruin focused on the frigid water flowing beneath its belly.
Link guided their canoe into a still stretch near the opposite bank. Jacqueline placed her paddle across her lap and studied the bear’s posture. This was either an intelligent animal that knew they posed no threat, or man hadn’t hunted it. Standing, it probably would only be about seven feet tall. Still, it was big enough to make Jacqueline glad they were watching from a safe distance.
With lightning speed, the paw dipped into the water. A fish flew out of the water in a glistening silver arc and landed high on the bank. Immediately, the scraggly shrubbery quivered. Two cubs burst into view and pounced on the flopping fish. Uttering vicious growls and grunts, the cubs each grabbed an end of the fish.
Abruptly, one of the cubs lost its grip on the slippery tail. He somersaulted down the bank and splash-landed near his mother. As she dipped out a second fish, she growled at her cub.
Link abruptly pushed them back into the current. Jacqueline felt mildly disappointed. After a mile, she turned around to comment on the flight of an eagle, and saw the furious expression on Link’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“Did you see the size of that dolly?”
“Dolly-what?”
“Dolly varden. The second fish,” he snapped.
She tried to remember the streak of flapping life the bear had tossed up the bank. It hadn’t been as large as the first, but the color had been different. Jacqueline wished she’d spent as many hours studying fish as she had mammals. “I was watching the cubs,” she admitted.
“Did you see the way they were mauling that she-fish?” he asked in disgust. She nodded. Why was he so upset? “You can bet anything that they’ll make a mess of the dolly, too.”
“Why does it matter?” Her studies focused on mammals, fish were merely food, weren’t they?
“That dolly was trophy size. Do you know how long I’ve been trying to catch one that big?”
“Years?”
“That’s right. And the bear simply flicks one out of the water for her cubs to use as a toy.” His paddle dug into the water.
“What technique have you been using?”
“Spinners and a baited hook,” he snapped.
“Well, there’s where you went wrong. Obviously, you need insulated hip boots and a spear, or something.”
Link looked at her as if she was daft. Jacqueline tried to stare innocently back, but his outraged expression seemed at such odds with the crimson bandana, she felt her lips twitch. His expression took on a sheepish cast. “You must think I take fishing too seriously.”
“If you enjoy it, why shouldn’t you treat it any way that makes you happy?” Now that he seemed to be past the worst of his temper, she asked, “How come you were upset about the second, not the first? The first was bigger.”
“Yep, but it was only a she-fish.”
“Not so valuable, huh?”
He nodded. “It was a plain old whitefish, while the dolly is a trout, and good eating. It tastes like lobster when you cook it right.”
Jacqueline rubbed her chin. “Do you primarily fish for a dinner or to win a trophy?”
Link stared at her, then grinned. “You know, you may have a point. I’ve lived off what I’ve caught for so long that I’m not sure why I’m fishing. I’ll have to think about that.”
“Well, if you’re in it for the prize, maybe we can get you a cub disguise, sneak back upstream. When mama bear catches the next gold cup winner, you can win it through tug-of-war.”
His eyebrows arched. “Jacqueline, you have a very strange s
ense of humor.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be, I like it.”
His sincerity sent warm fuzzies through her. Adam had never liked her jokes, so she often found herself swallowing teasing remarks unsaid. “You know, I’m surprised that you haven’t wet your line. If there’s one trophy fish around here, it stands to reason there will be more.”
Link reached for his tackle. “I definitely like the way your mind works. At the very least, I’ll catch something for dinner. A dolly would taste good, especially for company.”
She nodded, but her smile ebbed at the reminder of her stalker. Plus, she wasn’t sure she thought of him as company. A half-hour later, Link caught a nice dolly varden. Though it wasn’t as large as the bear’s, it was still big enough to feed three and he was pleased.
They picked out a broad gravel bar, with a steady breeze to keep the mosquitoes away, and set up camp. Then they waited.
18
Though they took their time setting up camp for the night, the bright yellow kayak didn’t appear. Holding onto a thin thread of hope that the invitation would work, they spent another hour casting furtive glances up river instead of starting dinner. Link’s stomach growled. “Still no sign of him. Think we should wait longer?”
Instead of answering him, Jacqueline started mixing the ingredients for biscuits, so Link heated the pan to fry the fish. “Do you think he found the sign?” she asked.
“Yep.”
“Then why hasn’t he responded to the invitation?”
Didn’t she realize that not showing up was an answer? Granted, it wasn’t the one she wanted, but it was a possibility that he’d warned her about. “Same reason you’ve never seen his face, but I don’t know what that is.” Link put the Dolly Varden in the hot grease. The oil spat, two droplets hit his hand, though he’d yanked it back quickly. He licked the tiny burns.
Jacqueline placed the biscuits on aluminum foil, folded it, then heaped embers around the package. “You don’t think the bear got him, do you?”
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