While his life had taken a definite turn for the better, his uncle hadn’t been as fortunate. Derek had spent the last few months sitting in jail charged with the sexual assault of Abby Bonner, if found guilty, the man faced a ten-year prison term.
Murphy came over, handed him a beer.
“I’m not much of a drinker.”
“And that’s an admirable quality in any man. But there are times a taste of Guinness helps a deep thinker sort out his thoughts.”
About that time Troy spotted the gorgeous redhead, Bree Dennison, standing by the front door. They’d gone to high school together. He hadn’t seen her since her own twenty-first birthday party Labor Day weekend. He couldn’t believe she was headed straight for him.
“Hi Troy. Happy birthday!” Bree leaned in, kissed his cheek and put her arms around him for a hug. “Good to see you.”
“Hi Bree. What are you doing here?”
Bree sent him a puzzled look. “Silly. I was invited just like everyone else. It happens to be my night off too which means I’m letting my hair down a little bit tonight because I have schoolwork to do when I get back home.”
He’d forgotten she was in her second year at the community college. “How’s school going?”
“It’s tough to go to class and hold down a job. I’m lucky to have found work. So I’d say all and all it’s going pretty good. I keep my grades up and that’s what matters most. I heard about you and Mona. Sorry it didn’t work out.”
“Ah well, as it turns out, I don’t think we suited one another.”
“Sometimes it’s like that. I got you a present,” Bree stated, reaching into the oversized bag that draped from her shoulder. She pulled out a ten-inch box, smartly gift wrapped in their high school colors.
“What is this?” Troy asked, setting down the beer so he could take the package. He tested the weight. It was heavy, weighing at least a pound.
“Open it and see for yourself. I hope you like it. It’s not new or anything. I actually found it at a little used shop in San Sebastian in between my classes.”
Troy didn’t need a lot of encouragement. The idea that she’d taken the time to buy him anything at all had him ripping off the pretty blue and orange paper. When he got down to the cardboard he eagerly tore into the tape. “It’s an engraver tool.”
“I saw it and thought you could use it to decorate your jewelry boxes. Abby Bonner showed me the one you made for her. It’s a beautiful design, both top and sides.”
He didn’t want to tell her he’d given up the silly notion of making them. Instead he draped an arm around her shoulder. “This is the nicest present anyone’s ever given me. Thank you,” he managed to fluster out.
“I doubt that. But I wanted to get you something you could use in your work. I knew you already had your own tools and what you didn’t have, you’d surely have access to while working for Logan.”
“This is awesome. I don’t have one. But you know what? I’ll make you a jewelry box first chance I get, put something special on the lid, too. You always did like red flowers, California poppies, as I recall.”
Bree blushed. “That would be great. You remembered that?”
He smiled. “Of course. You used to wear a white dress with them all over it.”
Her mouth dropped open. “I did. I wore that to school a lot.”
“It set off your hair.”
“You always did say sweet things like that. I had a crush on you in junior high.”
Before Troy could pursue that, his boss walked up, slapped him on the back.
“It’s the birthday boy. You should see the cake Jordan baked. It’s a work of art,” Logan stated, clearly oblivious to the fact he’d interrupted something.
“One of these days I’m going to have enough money to treat myself to a couple of nights at the B & B and have Jordan cook for me,” Bree tossed out with a sigh. “That may sound silly but—”
“No, it doesn’t,” Troy said. “Not at all. You deserve a day off, a weekend would be better. You work too much.”
“Not much else I can do about that,” Bree said. “Dad left us that old house and it needs fixing up. Zach and I keep meaning to paint the thing but neither one of us have the time. Zach spends his days looking for work. That reminds me, I see Brent’s here. I need to thank him for throwing some work Zach’s way while those archaeologists are in town.”
“If all goes as planned, tell Zach to come see me about more permanent work at the school project we’re planning,” Logan reiterated. “You heard about bringing the school back to life, right?”
“I did. It’s exciting.”
“We can use all the local hands we can get,” Troy added. “It’ll be a huge undertaking. But we’re up for it. Zach would be an asset to the crew.”
Bree grabbed Troy’s arm in delight. “That’s wonderful. Save a spot for him, will you? I can’t wait to tell him. Oh look, here’s Brent now. I have to run, Troy. Now that you’re legal, you stop by McCready’s and I’ll buy you a beer.”
After she’d gone over to Brent, Logan turned to Troy. “That woman is interested in you.”
“You think so?”
“I know so. If I were you I wouldn’t waste a minute heading into McCready’s first chance I got. You’re crazy if you don’t ask her out. Take her somewhere nice, like Perry’s place maybe.”
“You know I can’t afford that.”
“Okay. How about this? You make the date and bring her to your place for a nice candlelit dinner, dinner you’ve fixed yourself. Women love a man who cooks. Works every time. I’ll be damned if I know why. Your studio is the perfect little garret with a cozy atmosphere. It has a stove that works and a great view from the bluffs. What more could a single guy want?”
“When did you get to be such a romantic?” Troy wondered.
“Since I met and fell in love with the right woman. You fall in love with the right woman you’ll want nothing but the best for her. Trust me on that.”
Brent’s eyes drifted from the conversation with Bree Dennison to River’s arrival at the front door. Since the last time he’d seen her that afternoon she’d taken the time to go back to the B & B to French-braid her long mane. The stylish knot gave her a sophisticated air. She’d changed into a simple black skater dress. The full swingy skirt flared out whenever she moved and the wrap slung over her shoulders hung in a soft creamy shimmer for contrast.
The outfit had him wanting to take her back to his place to get her naked—the sooner the better. Good thing he’d gotten Paul Bonner to replace him at the dig site and no longer had to bother with the swing shift.
River spotted Brent from across the room and sent him a wave. There was something about the pair of dress pants and button-down shirt he wore that had her juices revving.
Over the din and the loud music River sidled up to him and asked, “Read any good books lately?”
Brent started laughing. “Just the one about archaeologists. But it never mentioned they were so hot.”
“Aww, aren’t you sweet.” She linked her arm through his, ran a finger down his cheek, whispered in his ear, “Maybe we should pay our respects to the birthday boy, give him his present and start a few fireworks of our own. I can get a lot hotter.”
“I’m already picturing that in my head. That can definitely be arranged. But first I promised Troy a twenty-first birthday party he wouldn’t forget.” He took her hand, led her over to where Bree had gone back to talk to Troy.
“Then let’s not disappoint him. Where’s the present you and the town got him?”
“Around the corner. The trick is getting him outside for the big reveal.”
“Hmm. Leave that to me. He’ll never see it coming if it comes from a virtual stranger.” River shifted gears and focused her attention on Troy, holding out her hand. “Hi Troy, I’m River Amandez, the archaeologist over at the dig. Brent tells me you’re an excellent carpenter. I was wondering what you’d charge to build us a scaffold, you know, across the street at the dig si
te.”
“You need a scaffold? Built on the beach? What for?” Troy asked with a curious look on his face.
“We need a sort of platform for…”River started forming a shape with her hands, a little perplexed at how to continue. But she quickly recovered to go on with the diversion. “We need it built up to fully excavate the side of the cliff.” She actually managed to keep a straight face. “How about looking at the site now and telling me how long it would take to construct it sturdy enough on the soft ground?”
“But it’s dark outside,” Troy pointed out. And he’d have to leave his party.
“It is,” River said with a sly grin. “But we need to move on this ASAP while the weather holds. It’s kind of an emergency and you’d really be helping us out if you could give us your expertise along with an estimate.”
“Sure. I guess so,” Troy said in final agreement not wanting to be rude but clearly not happy about it.
River led Troy out the door and down the steps onto the sidewalk. She saw Logan pull up between two cars driving a gleaming white GMC Canyon pickup right on schedule. From behind her, she realized the party crowd had moved outside with them to the curb to take in Troy’s reaction.
They didn’t have to wait long. Brent put a hand on Troy’s shoulder and held up a key ring with a spare set of keys dangling from it.
At that moment the partygoers all yelled out in unison, “Surprise! Happy twenty-first birthday, Troy!”
Troy’s mouth fell open. “What’s going on?”
“Meet your new ride, courtesy of the entire town. But I have to say it was Jordan, Hayden, Kinsey, and Keegan who got it all started. All of us kicked in a few bucks after that and before we knew what was happening we had enough to get you a replacement for that sad road menace you commonly refer to as a truck.”
“But this is brand-new.”
“Not quite. One of those returned leases where the person didn’t like the color.”
“I love the color,” Troy said, rubbing his hand over the waxed sheen of the metal, elated at the idea he had a gorgeous new truck.
“Good,” Brent said. “Because it’s all yours.”
Later back at Brent’s house, he and River stretched out in front of a cozy fire.
“The look on Troy’s face was priceless.”
“He must be a super nice guy to leave his own birthday party thinking he was going across the street to help me measure for a scaffold in the dark.”
“Where’d you come up with that idea anyway? For a minute there I didn’t think he’d buy it.”
“It just came to me. It got him outside, didn’t it?”
“Hell, I’d’ve followed you outside,” he said, nibbling his way down her throat. “Right now, I’m pretty sure I’d follow you anywhere.”
“That’s because you want to get me naked.”
“Oh yeah. And then I’d do this.” He began to move his fingers back and forth between her legs through the fabric of her panties.
In response, she lifted her hips, so he could slide the tiny scrap of silk off from under her dress. “Then you’d better show me whatcha got, Sheriff.”
Chapter Twenty
River couldn’t have ordered up more perfect weather for the dig if she’d tried. November’s days were warm and sunny, the nights cool and crisp.
Confined in the narrow hole, River worked the opposite square of the grid from where Walker and Sandra rubbed elbows. Sitting back on her heels, she beaded the sweat that formed on her brow. She glanced over at the interns as they went through the same steps she did—first brushing the top layer of dirt before using the dental pick to breach another level. Each took turns dumping their take into a bucket for sieving.
Up top, Julian and Laura manned the sieve. No fragment or clod of dirt got past the screen without one of them inspecting the contents.
The process was painstakingly slow and methodical. It required patience and a strong back along with a will to sift through mud to find treasures, like the pipe she’d located in the shape of a fish. River studied the blue and brown quartz piece inlaid with shell beads before taking it into her hands. She ran her fingers over the stone.
The vision came fast and vivid. Planked canoes lined the beach. She saw the village dotted with its dome-shaped huts and their thatched willow roofs.
While plentiful pots of acorn soup simmered over the fire, their main course tonight would be the clams and abalone they’d caught that day.
She watched as the tribe danced in celebration, the occasion, the fall harvest. While the fire blazed and sparks flew up and into the night, River could tell the hierarchy of the tribe by their dress.
The elders, both men and women, had wrapped themselves in fur capes and wore headdresses full of colorful bird feathers. They greeted visitors from neighboring tribes with gifts of turtle shells, carved driftwood, and beads. Their decorated heads bobbed in rhythm as the shamans circled together in song. Like rock stars of their day, their faces and bare chests painted, the medicine men took center stage. They took turns playing their flutes made from deer bones and rattling their clappersticks for the crowd, the crafters and workers. The male members of the tribe wore narrow slits of bearskin no wider than tool belts around their waists. They one-stepped to the music. The women did the same in their milkweed skirts short as aprons. They’d draped multiple strands of ornate beads around their necks down to their bare breasts. Everyone participated, keeping time to the beat. The throng listened. They cheered. They danced in perfect cadence, stepping to the tune as if moving over hot coals. This fall evening, the village would party well into the early dawn hours.
As River’s vision cleared, she lifted her head to take in the ocean breeze—and was surprised to see Brent staring at her from above the hole.
“Where were you just now?”
“Your ancestors were party animals,” she said with a wink. But then she tilted her head to study his face and realized he had something on his mind other than his own blood ties. “What’s up?”
“The FBI has a new lead.”
“What? A lead to Luke?” River dropped the trowel she held. She scrambled up the ladder to look at his face, to stare into his eyes to make sure what she’d heard was real.
He held out a piece of paper for her to look at. “The agent in charge, Matt Swain, faxed me this photo. He wants you to take a look at it and tell him if it looks anything like your ex.”
She snatched the picture out of his hand, studied the grainy snapshot. But she was disillusioned to see a man sporting a full beard. “If that’s him, he’s gone all backwoodsman, which isn’t like Wes at all. Unless it’s to go skiing and stay in a comfy lodge, he rarely knew how to rough it. He used to give me such a hard time about living out of a tent during a dig. Wes doesn’t like to get his hands dirty. This guy looks too…outdoorsy.”
“But could it be him? Focus on the eyes or the nose and not the beard.”
“Honestly, I don’t know. The eyes do look somewhat similar but I’ve never seen Wes in a beard before. I’ve never seen him so disheveled. He was always such an immaculate dresser, so put together. This guy looks like the Unabomber.”
“River, the man fits Wes’s general description, same height and weight. Plus, he had a toddler with him. You said Wes liked to ski. This photo was taken about thirty miles from Jackson Hole, Wyoming, in a little town called Aurora. Aurora’s about the size of Pelican Pointe so a stranger can stick out there. Not like Jackson Hole where the tourists generally land. But get this, the ski resorts got a boon a few days ago—their first heavy snowfall of the season.”
Chills ran down her arms despite the warmth of the day. Hope soared in her chest so much that she had to sit down where she stood on the dune. Even if it was a longshot, she took a second look, then a third. “It resembles what I remember Wes looking like. But the beard is throwing me.”
“To me, the man looks like he’s trying to pass for a ski bum.”
River grabbed Brent’s arm. “Oh
my God, you’re right. He does, doesn’t he?” She so wanted to believe it. “Didn’t you say something at your parents’ house that night about seeing a man with a beard? I know you did. This certainly doesn’t look like his other mug shot though, like the one they took back in New Mexico. It looks like someone snapped it with a camera phone.”
“That’s exactly what they did. This guy checked into a motel in Aurora, has been seen around town with a little boy he often leaves alone in the motel while he goes across the street to the liquor store.”
“Oh no. About how old is the baby?”
“Between two and three.”
“Tell me everything Agent Swain told you.”
“I told you the FBI sent out alerts using Patton’s New Mexico mug shot. That included faxes that went to every police department across the country. This guy’s calling himself Steven Patterson. Yesterday morning, he comes into the local dive with the kid, orders breakfast, hits on the married waitress there. Before the child finished his meal, the waitress’s husband, who happens to be a cop, comes through the door, catches this Patterson flirting with his wife. The cop is upset. Words are exchanged.”
“Then please tell me this guy is sitting in jail.”
“Sorry, no, at least not yet. Mainly because before things got out of hand with the cop, Patterson paid his bill in cash and got out of there fast. Since the cop recognizes him as the newcomer in town, he decides to keep an eye on him. In the span of a few hours, the cop tails him back to the motel and snaps this photo with his cell phone of Patterson coming out of the convenience store across the street from the lodge. Later that night, the patrolman starts his shift. He sees the FBI alert, sees the mug shot of Wes Patton and immediately thinks it looks like this Patterson guy. He’s keeping the man under surveillance until he hears back from the FBI.”
Her heart leapt with faith and hope and the anticipation of it all after such a long time. “Look, I need to catch a flight out of Santa Cruz to Jackson Hole tonight? Or maybe I could drive to San Jose to catch a flight from there? I better check schedules on the Internet and call Emilio, tell him I’m taking time off. I have lots of vacation built up and I intend to use it.”
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