The Choice, A Powerful & Engrossing Romantic Suspense Series (Walk the Right Road Series, Book 1)

by Lorhainne Eckhart

  “Jesse in that file we got from Dexter, the notes about Dan McKenzie. Isn’t there some mention of one of his women being connected?”

  Jesse snatched up all the files and carried them to the kitchen table. He sat back down and then rifled through the top file. “You think that’s the broad Marcie’s talking about, what’s her name, Sandra? Didn’t Marcie say she grew up in a family of growers? You’d definitely know all the big time contacts wouldn’t you?”

  “Could be, what bothers me though is how this guy surrounds himself with women, not dumb women, but smart educated women. How do you think he manages to get them to take all the risks for him?”

  Jesse licked his finger as he turned over another page. “Probably the same way a woman wraps a man around her finger and gets him to ignore all her lies and unredeemable behavior.”

  Sam tossed a checkered dishtowel at Jesse. “Are you ever going to let it go about Elise?”

  “Only when you finally wake up and stop painting her a saint and admit she was up to no good. Face it. You saw stars and not the truth with her.”

  “Let’s focus on this case. What are the chances Dan McKenzie supplied Lance Silver?”

  “I think that’s where we need Marcie.”

  “Yeah, but I’m worried about how deep she’s really in. And if there’s more to her role than what she told me.” Sam held up his palm when Jesse opened his mouth to speak. “Don’t even go there Jesse. She’s not Elise.”

  Sam dished up eggs and buttered toast. He passed Jesse a plate and then carried his breakfast with Marcie’s outside to the back deck, where she sat cross legged reading one of the letters.

  “Eggs are ready.”

  She accepted the plate with a distracted smile.

  “Thanks. Sam, look at this.” She handed him a dated photo of a small boy.

  The inscription on the back said “Jemmie on Grand Terre”, no date. He flipped it over to look at the photo and scrawled inscription on the back again.

  “No date, interesting kid.” He handed back the photo. He sat beside Marcie in the cedar Adirondack chair. Her eyes smoldered when he looked back over. “What?”

  Marcie held up a second picture. “Sam, the boy’s picture was stuck behind this one. It says the manor house on Grand Terre. In the letter, it refers to this as new, after the US attacked Grande Terre, destroying Jean’s encampment. This is a picture of a new plantation. On the back look, what it says. “Isabel, Jemmie and Rand, Grande Terre”. I’m positive this Isabel is Jerome’s wife, and Jemmie is Jerome’s child. I feel chilled when I look at the man beside her.”

  “Marcie, its fall, so this time of year it’s cool in the morning, and two, he’s her new husband. She moved on. Maybe he wasn’t very nice, but women did what they had to in those days. Now put those letters away, we have more important things to talk about than someone’s interesting history.”

  With one hand she bundled the letters and pictures and sat them beside her on the plastic end table.

  “I need to go back to my home on Las Seta, I need some clean clothes. There’s a charter service out of Port Townsend I can take. He usually schedules for ten or eleven in the morning.” Not even a flicker of doubt dawned on her face. She wasn’t asking. Where had this determination come from?

  “Marcie, you’re not going anywhere, I’ll get you what you need here.”

  “No Sam. We’re taking Marcie right now to Las Seta. I’ll rent a boat at the Sequim marina.”

  They both turned to Diane who stood in the open doorway. Her pale apple blossom cheeks appeared ghostlike. Her damp hair stuck up on one side. She must have tried to sleep but couldn’t.

  Marcie rose out of her chair and walked right up to Diane. She still held her plate of eggs, but she placed her other hand with an apparent genuine soft care on Diane’s forearm.

  “Diane, are you okay?” What struck Sam was some closeness seemed to pass between them. Suddenly he was odd man out. He didn’t expect this, not from Diane. She was his pit bull, and she watched his back.

  What they did next really threw him. They both went inside without saying a word. Sam followed with his empty plate. If anything, to find out what was going on and a need to regain control.

  “Diane.” He called to her, but stopped cold in his tracks when he stepped into the kitchen. What he saw punctured the wind completely from any hope of regaining authority. Jesse washed dishes in the double sink, looking miserably uncomfortable. His eyes directed Sam to where both women stood in the middle of the kitchen by a potted fern. Marcie had her arms wrapped around Diane, hugging her.

  Diane pulled away, as if she suddenly pulled it together “Let’s get going, we’ve got a lot to do and a lot to talk about. One is the connection and open file on Dan McKenzie and his partner Richard, and how they’re connected to Lance Silver.” Diane clapped her hands. “Let’s go. Sam, Marcie, Jesse, I’ll drive.” Sam held his plate and watched a spurt of determination rise in both women. They slipped on their shoes. Marcie pulled on the borrowed brown sweater and Diane grabbed a black windbreaker from the closet. Both went out the front door.

  “Let’s go, hoss.” Jesse grabbed his tan jacket off the back of the Windsor chair and followed.

  They left the door open for him. Except Sam knew, if he didn’t go now, they’d most likely leave him behind.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sam was silent the entire way across the channel. It was impossible to have a conversation on the small cruiser Diane rented. The crossing today was hit by a southeaster, which made this ride unbearably rough. The warm, bright sun illuminated a soft blue sky. Frothy waves were a petulant white as they swelled and rolled up and over, which rocked Marcie’s already shaky tummy. She held tight to the vinyl seat with one hand and the bulk of her hair back with the other, struck by Sam’s brooding silence across from her. A brisk wind flapped open his jean jacket, back and forth and bulked up his dark blue shirt even though he’d tucked it into his well-fitting jeans. His short wavy hair blew every which way. And what had the potential for a bad hair day didn’t diminish what a good looking man he was.

  But even through this wild ride, Marcie could feel the pull home, to her rustic island, seeming to restore something vital, which had depleted long ago.

  “Marcie, are you listening?” She leapt when Diane rested a tender hand on her shoulder. Sam jumped onto the narrow wooden dock at Starry Bay and secured the boat in between a small steel rowboat and a wood cutter scripted lettering painted a vibrant red named “The Mirage” .

  “Sorry, I just realized how good it feels to be home.” She took a deep cleansing breath. Life was so pure and clean here. No hydroelectric power—no paved roads, just a simple, honest respect for land. Each step on this reclusive, isolated island, held a mystical energy. Marcie would swear any unsuspecting soul would reap the magical spark exuding from this place, well some parts anyway. This island was ten miles long from south to north, heavily forested and primitive. A land filled with family secrets, and clans who arrived and stayed, year after year. This island afforded privacy and no questions ever asked, an unwritten code by those who live here. Stay out of your neighbor’s business.

  “Where to, Marcie, you got a car or do we walk?”

  Marcie stepped over the side of the boat onto the dock. There were lots of boats tied to the U shaped dock, possibly thirty cruisers, sailboats and dinghies. And there must have been a few dozen people milling around the dock, wandering the rocky shore and scattered up the hill. “My truck’s parked up the hill, next to the hotel.” Sam, Jesse and Diane followed Marcie up the gangplank and across the bridge leading to a dirt hill where a hoard of vehicles were parked side by side on a road that disappeared behind the small ten room La Seta hotel. Marcie swung her arms, amazed by a sense of lightness making each step effortless. Twisted knots and confusion Marcie owned because of Dan, began to dissolve. At the same time, the constant pang of wanting Dan and the obsessive need to see and be around him, controlling her every move bef
ore she went to New Orleans, all but vanished. She closed her eyes for a moment, eternally grateful for that one blessing.

  Sam stopped her half way up by pressing a gentle hand on her arm.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She searched his beautiful light eyes. Something softened in the way he watched her. She reached out and caressed his unshaven cheek. And she was filled with such gratitude in that moment for Sam. She knew for certain, when the words popped out. “I love you.”

  But he said nothing. His hand loosened its hold and he stumbled back a step.

  Every bit of peace inside her fled, so Marcie turned and walked away. What did she expect him to say? Well something, anything caring, would be nice. She fought back the unwelcome sting of tears. “Here it is.” She struggled to focus on something else. She pointed to her older Toyota land cruiser, parked among the dozens and dozens of beat up cars, left by residents who caught the passenger only ferry off the island. Marcie didn’t miss the way Sam, Diane and Jesse glanced at each other. Of course, they’d heard what she said to Sam. She didn’t think before she spoke, let alone look around to see who was listening.

  She forced herself to look away, to smile at some of the residents, to keep going. She yanked open her driver’s door; the hinges let out an angry squeal on her rusted out SUV. A musty odor from the dark vinyl interior greeted her. She rolled down the driver’s window, hopped in, reached for the ignition and the keys were dangling right there where she’d left them. Marcie cranked the engine of the rusty beige SUV, and it started on the first try, although a little rough and rumbly. “Yeah, baby.”

  Marcie glanced over her shoulder and froze when Sam loomed over her from the passenger side.

  “Turn it off.”

  She stared at the fire that appeared to flicker to life in his ocean blue eyes.

  “Turn off the truck, I said.” This time he didn’t wait. He leaned over and turned it off, confiscating her keys. She glanced out the window, into the back, but there was no sign of Diane and Jesse. She closed her eyes and ordered herself to take two deep breaths.

  “Where are Jesse and Diane?” She looked around Sam, unable to shake the hurt and anger.

  “They’re in that cute little store behind the hotel, I told them to give us some privacy. I have some things to say to you.” He sounded really mad.

  “What do you want to say? I said what I feel Sam, and I didn’t say it lightly.” She slapped her palm against her chest. “I’m sorry the words slipped out, it hurts and confuses me that you mean so much to me. I opened up my heart in front of your friends, and you tromped on it.”

  “Knock it off, I did not. You can’t just say those words…” He swept his hand in a circle while he struggled with some emotion tripping up his tongue.

  “I love you. You mean those three words?”

  His hand dropped, and his face hardened. “Marcie, you could have knocked me off the dock into the icy water, and it would’ve been less of a shock. You can’t just say things like that so casually and hit me out of the blue. And expect me to smile, and say that’s nice. This is serious.” He was getting louder. A few heads turned from locals who hung around the store. A couple stepped closer and peered curiously through Sam’s grungy window.

  “Sam, it’s how I feel. And I’m being honest with you about every fuck up I’ve done, but you’re not one of them.” His large hands were rough and callused. They showed the man’s character. He dug in—worked hard—didn’t slough off. And it was those hands, which touched her chin kindly, when she looked away and turned her back to him.

  “Don’t turn away from me. I, too, have some things to say. You’ve turned my whole life upside down. I don’t know what the hell it was about you that made me want to protect you when I should’ve walked away. I still don’t. Do you think I’d do it for just anyone? I’ve strong feelings for you. I don’t know what they are, and if you think I’m going to let you brood away because I didn’t react the way you expect me to, you’re sadly mistaken. I do things my way, not yours. That includes how I feel about you. You mean more to me than I want you to.”

  “And baby, I’m still furious at you for the lines you crossed. You’ve broken the law.” The flash in his eyes when he shoved his hand roughly through his hair should’ve been warning enough of the depth of his feelings. “You need to back off, Marcie, till I figure some things out. And get this into that stubborn head of yours. If you hurt, so do I. And with the trouble you’re in, at this point, I still don’t know how deep it is, or if I can get you out. And Marcie, so help me, if you lie to me or you’ve withheld anything…” He gritted his teeth, as he turned away in his angry rant, unable to finish, but not before she glimpsed a sheen of tears gloss over his vulnerable blue eyes.

  Her hand trembled as it covered her mouth and butterflies overtook her stomach. She was afraid to touch him. He didn’t hate her. He cared, but trust was essential. If she wasn’t completely forthcoming, he’d turn and walk away, for good. She’d much rather endure a sledgehammer in her gut then suffer that wrath.

  “Understood, Sam.”

  He wiped his face with his hand. She glimpsed Diane and Jesse standing at an awkward distance ten feet away, pretending not to notice all the sparks flying between them.

  He rolled down his window. “Diane, Jesse, get in, let’s go.” He shoved the keys back in the ignition.

  Marcie started the truck while Diane and Jesse climbed in. Jesse crammed in behind Marcie. His knees pressed up against her seat back. His head, like Sam’s, almost touched the roof. Marcie drove east down Ferry Road. A trail of dust followed, taking them to the center of the forest thick island to the only T intersection. Marcie turned right.

  “So you always leave your keys in the ignition?” The icy tension between her and Sam melted a little more.

  “Pretty much. That way I know where they are.”

  “Aren’t you afraid someone’s going to take your truck?”

  “Like who? We all know each other here. Where’s it going to go? It can’t leave the island. If someone took it, everyone here would know. It’d be easy enough to go and get it.” She could feel his eyes burning into her, as if trying to wrap his head around living in a place where you didn’t carry the same worries as the rest of the world. When she came around the next bend on the tree-lined road, half a dozen cars were parked, blocking the narrow gravel road. And nine people loitered, drinking beer. “Oh oh, a road party.”

  “What the hell is that?”

  Marcie stopped behind the green truck. There was no squeezing past. Sam scowled. She saw his whole body tense as he grabbed hold of the rusty handle and wrenched open the door.

  Chapter Twenty

  Marcie grabbed Sam’s arm before he could bolt out the door and play cop. And shut down this party, which ultimately, would humiliate her with the locals.

  “Sam, please don’t. That’s not how it’s done here.”

  She could feel his heart racing. “Sam, please.”

  He pulled away and climbed out. Marcie slid her bum around on the black vinyl and stared at Diane. “It’s what happens here. Sometimes it goes on for days. No one can get by. It’s life here, and it’s harmless.”

  Diane only grunted as she climbed out. Jesse followed, frowning and shaking his head. “Jesse, please help me, get Sam to stop. I have to live here with these people.”

  “Hey Marcie, didn’t know you were back. Wow, what happened to your head.” Jean, a chunky woman in her fifties, decked out in her trademark eighties retro pink satin shorts and faded yellow shirt, walked past Jesse and hugged Marcie.

  “I fell, it’s nothing really. Good to see you, Jean.”

  Marcie recognized all the familiar faces, laid back local partiers, always looking for a good time. Unfortunately, this summed up the extent of their ambition. She declined several offers for a beer. And it wasn’t until she chatted over some good times and rehashed the latest gossip that she spied Sam and Jesse. Both faced hippie Bob, as he regaled them an
imatedly with some broad tale, his beer sloshing out of the can each time he flapped his arms. His long white hair and matching beard rustled in the wind.

  Somehow, Diane managed to convince drivers of three cars parked on the left hand side, to move their cars to the other side, so only one lane was blocked. In less than an hour, Marcie, Sam, Diane and Jesse were able to squeak by and continue on their way.

  “So is that a common thing, to start a party in the middle of your only main road on the island, drinking and then getting back in your car loaded? Completely illegal, by the way Marcie, just in case you missed that part of the law.”

  “Sam, I’m not going to argue the laws of state with you. I guarantee I won’t win. I’m also not condoning their behavior, but I’m not willing to judge them either.” The air sizzled between them. And there was nothing but icy silence from Jesse and Diane in the back.

  Around the next bend, Marcie passed a three by five cookie shack, hammered together with plywood, with a peaked cedar roof. There were several on the island, at various spots along the main road. All owned by locals and loaded with fresh garden vegetables. Peggy, an elderly, plump lady wearing a floppy straw hat, waved her down while holding a bunch of carrots. Marcie stopped and leaned her elbow out the open window.

  “Oh Marcie, you’re back. Are you going home?”

  “On my way now.” The truck rumbled while she pressed the brake.

  Peggy waved her wrinkled hand high in the air. “Well you go on then, I’ll be right over to see you.”

  Marcie waved her hand out the window and pulled away. Sam’s eyes scalded her again.

  “Interesting lady.”

  “Who Peggy? She’s awesome.” Sam offered a mere grunt in reply.

  “So what was that little hut about? What kind of stuffs being sold?” Diane leaned forward, grabbing the back of Marcie’s seat.

  “That’s what we call a cookie shack. If you live here, you have to be self-sufficient and grow your own food. People sell their extra vegetables, fruit. Some even sell baking. Those cookie shacks are filled daily with whatever the owner of the property has available to sell. It’s an honor system. Price is listed and people leave the money in a can.”