by B. J Daniels
He blinked. “They eat this late at night?”
She shrugged. “I guess they were trying to accommodate me. You see why I don’t want to inconvenience them further.”
He nodded, still eyeing her. “You ever run a boat?”
“I grew up on the water.”
“You know how to get out to the island in the dark?”
She didn’t even know how to get there in the daylight. “Is there more than one island?”
He grinned, then slowly stuffed the greasy rag into the hip pocket of his jeans. “I can run you out.” He glanced back at the boat motor he’d been working on. “Let me close up.”
“I’ll pay you, of course.”
“You can settle up with Harry tomorrow.” He pointed toward the ski boat tied up to the dock. “Hop in that one. I’ll just be a minute.”
As she climbed into the boat, she glanced back toward the highway, half-afraid Officer Walker would catch her and demand to know what she was doing before she could get away. She reminded herself that she wasn’t under arrest. Yet. But why did she fear she would be soon?
To her relief she saw no one pulling into the marina as she slumped into a seat, her legs like water. She couldn’t remember ever being this exhausted. Her whole body trembled as if plagued with some kind of nerve disease.
“Cold?” the young man asked as he climbed behind the wheel. “Sit up here. It’s a little warmer out on the water.” He pointed to the seat across from him and directly behind the boat’s windshield.
She moved, stumbling a little. “Thank you,” she said, smiling at him. “I really do appreciate this.”
He looked embarrassed as he started the motor and pulled away from the dock.
She hoped she didn’t get him into trouble. Just as she hoped someone would be home at the Fairbankses’ house. If they weren’t, she would wait for them to return. She refused to believe this was a wild-goose chase or that her actions were anything but rational and necessary.
Her greatest fear as the boat took off across the water and the lights of Shadow Lake, Washington, dimmed behind them was that the Fairbankses would have never heard of Gillian or have any idea what Anna was talking about.
“YOU CAN SIT UP NOW, Mrs. Nash,” Dr. Brubaker said as he finished his examination.
“The baby?” Lucinda asked, sounding close to tears again.
“Everything looks fine.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “Why don’t you put your clothes on and then we can talk.”
She looked startled and suddenly afraid again.
“Talk about prenatal vitamins, checkups, nutrition, exercise,” he said quickly.
She seemed to relax a little, nodded and tucked the gown around her.
He smiled again, hoping to reassure her, and stepped from the room, his smile instantly fading the moment he closed the door behind him.
“Is everything all right?” Elle asked.
He hadn’t even noticed the nurse come down the hall toward him with a box of unopened supplies. He instantly changed his expression. “Fine. No problem.”
Elle didn’t look convinced but nodded, glanced toward the closed door, then headed on down the hallway to the supply closet.
Doc waited then tapped softly on the door.
“Okay,” Lucinda said from inside the room.
He opened the door, checking his expression before stepping in and motioning for her to have a seat. He drew up a chair and sat across from her.
She looked at him wide-eyed, her hands clasped in her lap, white-knuckled. “You’re sure my baby’s all right?”
He nodded, studying her. She was slim and blond, her eyes a clear blue fringed with dark lashes. Not a natural blonde. But that was no secret. He could see in her face and in those eyes that she’d had a hard life before ending up in Shadow Lake married to the chief of police, a man a good twenty-five years her senior.
“Is everything all right at home?” Doc asked.
“Yes,” she said nervously.
“I would suggest you stay off your feet as much as you can over the next few days,” he said. “The spotting has stopped. The baby’s heartbeat sounds fine. But you need to take care of yourself, for your baby’s sake.”
Her eyes widened in alarm. “You said the baby was all right.”
“We want the baby to stay that way. You need to eat properly. It is better to put on more weight than not enough. From what I can tell, you are about three months along. Let’s make sure the baby’s getting enough to eat, okay?”
She nodded and ducked her head, but not before he’d seen the tears.
“Also for the baby’s health, you need to provide a healthy environment. That means a healthy environment for the mother-to-be.” He reached over and covered her hands with one of his own. She looked up. “While there is nothing wrong with having intercourse, you do need to be careful. Your husband has to understand that he has to be more…gentle, okay?”
Her face flamed. She looked away. “He didn’t mean to hurt me.” Tears blurred the blue.
Brubaker took a guess. “Does he know about the baby?”
She blinked and pulled her hands free to wipe at her tears. “I haven’t told him yet.”
Doc leaned back, took a breath and asked, “Is there a reason you haven’t told your husband about the baby?”
She bit her lower lip and shook her head. “I just haven’t.”
He sighed. “Lucinda—”
“I’m going to tell him,” she blurted out. “I was just waiting for the right time.”
“Are you worried he won’t be happy about the baby?”
She nodded and rose as if to leave. “I know what you’re thinking, but it is his baby. It was before we were married. We didn’t use protection the first time when we…” She ducked her head, her hair falling around her face.
“I’m only asking these questions because I’m worried about you and your baby,” he said. “Lucinda, whatever is wrong needs to be resolved if you hope to carry this baby to term.”
She looked stricken. “I want this baby. More than anything in the world.”
“Then I suggest you tell your husband.” He began to write out a prescription for vitamins. “I want to see you again in a few days. In the meantime, stay off your feet and if spotting starts again, call me immediately.” He stood, handed her the prescription and moved aside so she could leave. “One more thing.” She stopped, her hand on the doorknob. “I’m here if you need to talk. Whatever is said will never leave this room.”
She gave a nod and was gone.
He stood in the examining room looking after her, worried. It still surprised him the secrets people kept from those they loved. He thought of Anna Collins. Another woman with secrets.
Sighing, he decided there was nothing more he could do for Lucinda tonight. But while he was at the hospital he might as well check on Anna.
He walked down the hall and quietly pushed open her door. Her bed was empty. His gaze went from the disconnected IV to the window. Even before he looked out and saw her tracks in the soft, wet earth, he knew Anna Collins was gone.
ANNA LOOKED BACK AS THE lights of the small tourist town disappeared. The boat rounded a rocky bar of shoreline leaving a wide wake and she saw a few isolated lights blinking in the distance. The night was dark, a crisp chill in the air as the boat sped across the water. She wished she had a coat and wondered how much farther it was.
She’d had no idea that the lake was this large and quickly realized she would never have found the island on her own. As she watched the lake ahead, she tried not to consider the possibility that no one would be home, that this was for nothing.
After a few more turns, the boat slowed, and in the distance Anna could see faint lights flickering in and out. As the boat approached the island, the lights grew brighter, the pines along the shore melting back into the darkness to expose a monstrous house set against a backdrop of granite cliffs.
Her boat captain cut the engine. She heard the lap of w
ater as the boat’s waves overtook the dock, then the shoreline. Anna winced as the boat connected with a jolt and loud thud against the edge of the dock. She’d been staring at the house, at the dark stone thick with moss illuminated by a row of exterior lights. Only a little light bled from the edges of the thickly draped windows.
The young man caught the dock, steadying the boat as she stood and feebly climbed out, feeling drained from the cold and the trip across the lake.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask your name,” she said.
“Eric.”
She smiled at him. “Thank you, Eric.” She tried to give him one of the twenties she’d found in her coat pocket, but he waved it away.
“I can wait if you want,” he said. “I don’t see anyone around.”
He’d expected someone to meet her at the dock. She wondered if anyone in the house had heard the boat approach? She’d thought she saw someone watching them from a crack in the drapes upstairs, but she didn’t trust her eyes any more than she did her judgment at this point.
“I’ll be fine. Thanks for the ride out.” If she had no way to return and someone was home, the Fairbankses would have to talk to her, wouldn’t they?
“If you’re sure.” The dock light shone on his young innocent face. She couldn’t help but think about Tyler and what he would have looked like at this age. The thought nearly leveled her.
“I’m sure.” Weak and feeling more vulnerable than she’d ever remembered, she pushed off the boat with what little strength she had left. The motor roared to life and the young man turned the boat and headed back toward town.
She waited until the boat’s lights disappeared behind a rocky outcropping, the sound of the motor dying off in the night. For a moment, she considered sitting down on the dock and resting for a few minutes before walking up to the house. But she was too cold and what she had to do couldn’t wait. That sense of urgency still burned inside her. Madness? Or intuition?
She turned slowly, her body aching, and headed up what felt like a long walk to the house.
By the time she reached the Fairbankses’ front door, Anna was sweating and having a hard time catching her breath. She leaned against the wall next to the door for support, dizzy and feeling faint. The air had gotten colder. She was shaking, burning up and chilled at the same time.
She rang the bell beside the door and waited. She had decided that if no one was home she would wait until they returned. What she hadn’t considered was the cold night or her weakened condition. Letting Eric leave with the boat had been a mistake.
She rang the bell again, aware that she desperately needed to get in out of the damp cold and sit down. Someone had to be home. She didn’t have a cell phone or any way to call for help. Too late she realized she had jumped from the frying pan into the fire.
When the door opened, Anna almost wept with relief.
“Yes?” asked a woman in a uniform. She was blocking the doorway, looking half afraid.
“I’m here to see…” Who? “Mrs. Fairbanks.” Anna heard her voice break. She leaned a hand against the doorjamb. “Please, I need to sit down. Would you tell Mrs. Fairbanks I’m here.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Fairbanks has retired for the night.”
Anna hated the pleading she heard in her voice. “It’s urgent that I speak with her.”
She must have sounded like a lunatic—not to mention what she must have looked like after what she’d been through—because the maid was shaking her head and closing the door.
Anna put her hand against the door, but she didn’t have the strength to force her way in. Past the maid, she caught a glimpse of a huge oil painting of a man.
She let out a startled cry. “Oh, my God. That’s him. That’s the man from the lake.” She felt her legs give way under her, felt herself falling toward the darkness even before her body hit the porch floor.
CHAPTER TEN
ANNA WOKE WITH A START. She was lying on a strange couch in an ornate sitting room, a fire burning in a fireplace next to her. And for a moment, she had no idea where she was.
A stern-looking gray-haired woman sat in a chair across from her, her pale smoky-gray eyes fixed on Anna’s face.
The eyes. Anna recognized the eyes and sat up. For a moment, she thought she would pass out again. Her skin was burning up and yet she felt chilled even with the fire next to her.
“Who are you?” The woman’s voice was fierce.
Anna leaned back into the soft cushions of the couch although it took every ounce of her strength not to lie back down again and close her eyes. She felt sick and confused. And afraid. Not of the woman, but of the fear that this woman was going to tell her she’d made a terrible mistake. Not just in coming here, but in thinking the Fairbankses knew anything about Tyler’s death.
She remembered the painting. It was the man she’s seen last night in the lake. The man she believed saved her life. She hadn’t been wrong to come here.
“Are you Mrs. Fairbanks?”
“I’m Ruth Fairbanks. This is my home. I asked who you are.”
“Anna Collins.” She thought the woman reacted to her name, that it had meant something to her. “Do you know me?”
The woman’s lips pursed in anger. “If I knew you, I wouldn’t have had to ask who you were.”
Maybe she’d been wrong. “But you’ve heard my name before?”
The older woman shook her head in obvious frustration. “My maid said that, before you fainted on my doorstep, you said something about seeing someone in the lake?”
“The painting on the wall. That’s the man I saw last night. I could never forget his eyes. They were the same color as yours. I saw him in the lake.”
The woman blanched. “What?”
“He saved my life when my car went into the lake,” Anna said quickly.
The woman looked frightened. “What kind of foolishness is this?”
In her fevered state, Anna felt even more confused. Something about the painting nagged at her, but her head ached too badly to recall what it was right now. Just holding up her head was taking all of her effort.
“Who is the man in the painting?” she asked, fearing it depicted a younger version of the woman’s dead husband, which would explain Ruth Fairbanks’s reaction.
“My son.” Her face flushed. “But he most certainly did not save your life last night in the lake. I demand to know what it is you want.”
Anna reached into her pocket. The woman flinched and drew back. “It’s just a note.” She retrieved the scrap of envelope and held it out to the older woman. “I think I was supposed to meet your son last night at the rest stop on the edge of Shadow Lake.”
“That’s preposterous,” Ruth said, not taking the note.
“He must have seen my car go into the lake,” Anna continued, as if the woman hadn’t spoken. “He saved my life.”
“I’ve heard enough.” Ruth Fairbanks struggled to her feet. She was trembling with apparent rage.
“Please. I recognized him from the painting. Please—can’t you just ask your son? He either knows me or my friend, Gillian Sanders. She’s an attorney in Seattle.”
The woman looked livid. “Why would you make up such a story?” She snatched the piece of envelope from Anna’s fingers. “Why it’s barely legible.”
“It was in my coat pocket underwater. The ink has run, but you can make out the name Fairbanks, along with Rest Stop, Hwy 20 EAST and Shadow Lake. The numbers at the top are the rest-stop pay phone. I think either I or my friend was meeting your son at the rest stop last night close to midnight.”
“My son wouldn’t have met anyone at a rest stop in the middle of the night.”
“But he must have, don’t you see, because that is the only way he could have seen my car go into the lake. He has to be the same man Gillian planned to meet at the rest stop. So please, just let me talk to him. I know he can clear this up. He’s definitely the man in the portrait over your
fireplace except…”
Ruth’s voice was a whisper. “Except what?”
Anna wasn’t so sure for the first time. “Maybe it had been just an optical illusion in the water and the way the light caught his face in the water, but I thought he had a scar.” She moved her hand diagonally across her face in the pattern of the scar.
The older woman’s face drained of blood. She staggered as if she might fall. Anna reached for her, but Ruth Fairbanks was much stronger than she looked. She shook off Anna’s aid and righted herself by resting a hand on the end table beside the couch. A framed photograph toppled over.
Anna caught it before the photo hit the floor and froze as she stared down into two sets of the unusual pale smoky-gray eyes. “You have two sons?”
Ruth lowered herself back into her chair.
“Who is this?” Anna asked, pointing at one of the teens in the photograph.
“Jack,” Ruth Fairbanks said in a whisper.
“That’s his portrait over the fireplace.”
The older woman nodded.
“He’s the one I saw last night in the lake. I would stake my life on it.”
“Then that would be a terrible mistake on your part,” Ruth said. “Give me that,” she snapped, thrusting out her hand for the framed photograph.
Anna ignored her. “This is the man who saved my life.”
Ruth Fairbanks held out her hand, her voice breaking with obvious emotion as she said, “Please give me the photograph.”
Anna handed it over and watched the woman look down at her sons. She traced each boy’s face. “Jonathan is the oldest. Jack…Jack was two years younger.” Her hand trembled as she put the photograph on the end table next to her chair.
Anna caught her breath as the word registered. “Was?”
“My son Jack is dead.”
Anna felt as if the floor had dropped out from under her.
“So, as I said, you couldn’t possibly have seen Jack last night,” Ruth said, an edge to her voice.
“Mrs. Fairbanks, I’m so sorry. I lost my own son, so I know—”