A Need to Protect

by Diane Benefiel

  At eighteen and fresh out of high school, and then only against her mother’s wishes, she had spent another summer with him. Now as an adult, she was trying to understand the family dynamics that had helped to place her mother on such a self-destructive course.

  Determined to hold on to the happiness of just being here and not let memories of her childhood get her down, Emma got to work and unloaded the remaining gear from the car before straightening the main office. She thought a box of papers on the desk might have been the remnants of the break-in the chief had mentioned. Everything else appeared pretty much as her grandfather had left it. She opened the windows wide to let in fresh air.

  Emma was glad to see the tiny kitchen equipped with the basics for cooking. Eating in meant she could keep her spending down. She planned to live pretty frugally and not dip into her carefully saved start-up money.

  Once her living area was in order, she found a set of keys and took a walk around the property. The office cabin was the first building people would see when they came up the drive. There were a few parking spaces along the road, which then passed the office and snaked back through the pines and aspens with cabins that branched off on either side.

  The rentals were situated fairly close together but were given privacy by the trees. Beyond them the road looped around to a dock that stretched out into the lake. The boathouse, Emma remembered, held canoes and kayaks, fishing gear and life vests. Those would need to be inspected for safety before being made available to guests. Past the lake, the road gained in elevation, then wound past more cabins before circling back to the office.

  Emma started a more detailed inspection with the garage that sat across the driveway from the office. It was packed full of furniture, probably for use in the cabins. Tables and folding chairs leaned against a far wall and an old TV set balanced precariously on what looked like a nightstand.

  She locked the garage and trudged up the road to the first cabin. They all had the names of area wildlife carved into wooden signs nailed beside the front doors. Crossing the porch she unlocked the door of Black Bear cabin and peeked in, recalling as she looked around just how small the rentals were. The front door opened to a cozy living room and a tiny kitchen to the right. At the far wall a doorway led to a bedroom. Most of the furnishings looked rather dated but seemed to be in good condition. The bathroom was accessed through a door on the right side of the small bedroom. It was hardly large enough to turn around in but had a shower-tub combo with a toilet and sink.

  Walking to the next cabin, Wolverine, Emma saw that what she had thought were wooden bins of some sort were really bear-proof enclosures for trash cans. Wondering how often bears visited the cabins, she continued her inspection.

  For the next couple hours Emma toured the remaining rentals. All of them were oriented toward the lake though several were set back into the forest for a more secluded atmosphere. Each had a wide deck with a barbecue and a small table with chairs so vacationers could sit outside and enjoy the beautiful mountain scenery. There were seventeen in all and she was mostly pleased with their condition. All needed some cosmetic attention, but a thorough scrubbing and a coat of paint would do for most. Once the electricity was on, she would test the appliances and hopefully find most of them in working condition.

  Making her way back to the rental office, Emma spied a bird, black with a white underbelly and a splash of red crowning its head, swoop low before forcing its body through an impossibly small hole in the trunk of an aspen. She watched intently until it poked its head back through and swooped off again. A woodpecker, she was sure of it. She’d bet the local library would have books on local wildlife. Emma felt happier just having seen the bird. She hoped it was building a nest in the tree.

  Stepping onto the porch of the office, Emma spotted a truck coming down the drive. At one time the pickup may have been black, but it was so muddy and spattered with dirt its color was almost indistinguishable. A man who could have been anywhere between fifty and sixty-five got out and plodded over to stop at the base of the steps. Tufts of gray hair stuck out from under a baseball cap with the letters HL circled by a noose stitched above the bill. His yellow suspenders gave him away as the man who’d been talking to the Brad outside the café.

  He studied her intently out of jet-black eyes. “You might have the look of Walt about the chin and mouth. Hair color’s close to his, back before his turned whiter than mine. Eyes are the same. Chief says you’re his granddaughter.” He stuck his chin toward her like an accusatory finger.

  Not sure what to expect from him, Emma nodded warily. “I’m Emma Kincaid. My mother was Walt’s daughter Trudy.”

  He gave her a curt nod, squinting against the strong sunlight. “Figured as much. Why didn’t you visit your grandpa when he was sick?”

  Emma straightened her spine and faced the question for the second time that day. “I was taking care of my sick mother,” she said shortly. “What can I do for you?”

  He stared at her with those dark eyes as if he would know a lie if he heard one. “Guess that would be a problem. Anyways, both Brad and Maddy asked me to come by here and check out your propane tank. I’m Bert Morales.”

  “What do you charge for your services, Mr. Morales?”

  “It’s Bert, and nothing for just lookin’ at it. Now, Walt and I did have a business arrangement. He was able to fix most of the small stuff but called me out for anything bigger. If you’re interested in the same, we’ll work out a fee schedule.”

  Emma knew down to the last penny what she had in the bank and she had to make it stretch. She probably needed to pick up Basic Repairs for Dummies, if there was such a book. It looked like she was joining the city library. “Right now I’ll tackle the little stuff. Anything major will have to wait until I’ve got money coming in.”

  “Fair enough. Let’s go take a look at that tank.”

  ***

  Several long hours later, Emma bowed her head under the hot spray of the shower. The propane tank had been in good working order and blessedly full, so now she was able to wash away a couple of days’ worth of grime. She’d dropped off the police chief’s lantern at the station after breakfast, but she’d come across an old Coleman in a cupboard so she didn’t have to rely solely on her flashlight. On her way home she’d also found the grocery store and so, in addition to enjoying a hot shower, she was now full with scrambled eggs and toast cooked in her own little kitchen.

  Emma liked the feel of the town. She was a born worrier and one of the biggest worries with her decision to move to Hangman’s Loss had been whether she’d fit in with small-town people. So far, they seemed friendly enough, and she thought Bert Morales might be able to tell her something about her grandparents. She knew next to nothing about her grandmother, only that she’d died when Trudy was a girl. She hoped going through her grandfather’s things would turn up some family photos.

  The image of the Hangman’s Loss police chief came to mind as she rinsed out conditioner. Tall, dark, and handsome was a cliché but it sure worked for her. She twisted off the taps and reached for the towel. Look but don’t touch, she told herself. Chief Hottie was definitely off-limits.

  Emma left her hair loose to dry and bundled into a long-sleeved T-shirt, sweatpants, and her hooded sweatshirt. With thick socks on her feet she stepped out of the bathroom. The temperature in the mountains dropped markedly at night in early May but, to save money, she didn’t want to run the heater more than absolutely necessary. Layered clothing was essential.

  At the front of the cabin, she locked the deadbolt, then stilled when she spied headlights spearing through the trees. Turning off the lantern she peered through the window. A large vehicle came down the dirt driveway from the road, high beams nearly blinding her. Had Brad returned?

  Reaching the wide area where her car was parked the vehicle stopped and idled, bathing her cabin in bright light. She tried to see beyond the headlights. It looked like a large SUV or perhaps a truck with a shell over the bed, the wi
ndows impenetrable.

  Careful not to reveal herself in the window, she continued to watch for several taut minutes until the vehicle finally backed up to make a three-point turn before heading back up the driveway to the road. The incident made her nervous. Was it the person who had broken into the office? Or maybe the guy the chief had mentioned asking if the resort was for sale. But why would they come at night?

  After checking the deadbolt and then the lock on the kitchen door once again, Emma returned to her bedroom to crawl under the covers. She lay on her back to stare into the blackness for a long time before finally falling asleep.

  Chapter Three

  Dressed in jeans and heavy shirt, hair pulled back in a ponytail, Emma thought she could quite cheerfully kill for a cup of coffee. She stepped out onto the porch, shoulders hunched against the early chill, thinking longingly of the coffee-maker she’d found in a kitchen cupboard. It probably made great coffee. It didn’t even have to be great, just caffeinated would work for her. But no electricity meant no coffee. The power company had assured her they would have a crew out Monday to hook her up. All fine, but not much help on Sunday morning.

  After convincing herself she couldn’t run into town just for coffee, Emma decided to clear her head with a walk along the shore. The lake was spectacular in the early morning light, the water calm with hardly a ripple to disturb its surface. Emma walked out onto the dock. Sunlight spearing over low hills to the east lightened a cloudless sky.

  To the north tall pines edged up to the lake, some of them toppled into the water. The town sat along the far end where she could see a fishing boat puttering from the marina. A plopping sound carried over the lake and she glanced up in time to catch the silvery glint as a fish leaped out of the water.

  She retraced her steps off the dock and turned south, in the opposite direction of town. A trail ran along the shore and Emma recalled it circled the lake. At eighteen, she and her grandfather had hiked the complete circuit. Following the track, she wound through towering pines and the gray trunks of aspen. Little paths joined it, coming from the rentals. Guests would enjoy strolling down to the lake to go fishing or just walk, as she was doing. Past the last of the cabins the trail followed the lake for a distance, then curved sharply to the left where Emma found a small cove. Here a creek tumbled into the lake and tall reeds and water plants grew in abundance. A neat wooden bridge spanned the creek and Emma crossed it to take up the path on the far side.

  “You’re up early.”

  Emma about jumped out of her sneakers. Bradley Gallagher stood off the trail, a steaming travel mug in his hand.

  “Jeez, why don’t you just shoot me?” She thumped her chest above her heavily beating heart. “Are you out here looking for hikers to arrest?”

  He wore faded Levis paired with a dark plaid shirt. His heavy quilted vest was open and Emma noticed the absence of his cop belt.

  Ignoring her comment, he scanned her face intently. “You look like you didn’t sleep well.”

  She shrugged, gaze fixed on his cup. She could smell coffee, strong and dark. “I slept okay. Just waking up slowly.” She breathed in deeply, wondering if she could absorb caffeine from just the aroma.

  He eyed her thoughtfully, then simply passed her the mug. Emma hesitated, then finally gave in and took a long sip. She closed her eyes and felt the warmth trickle down to her stomach. She opened them again to find his gaze still intent, expression unreadable. Shifting uncomfortably, she took another sip and handed back his coffee. “Thanks.”

  Remembering the vehicle shining headlights into her cabin the night before, she cocked her head. “Did you drive up to my cabin last night, around ten?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Someone did.”

  Attention focused, he said, “Tell me about it.”

  When she was eyed his cup again, he shook his head. “Wait. We’ll talk in a minute. Come with me.” When Emma looked at him skeptically, he lifted a brow. “I can set you up with coffee all your own.”

  That decided it. She followed him as the trail curved to the right and then widened along a grassy slope. A beautiful home of log cabin construction sat among tall trees. It stood two stories with wide windows that faced the lake. A veranda with a porch swing stretched across the front and the right side of the house while a stone chimney abutted the left. The rich golden logs and gray slate of the roof added to the homey, welcome feel.

  When he led her to the veranda steps, Emma hesitated, wondering if a girlfriend might be present. Maybe the pretty Maddy, who he’d given that casual, I’ve-known-you-forever-and-kiss-you-all-of-the-time kiss on the cheek. If he noticed her hesitation, he didn’t comment, instead holding wide the door until Emma entered the house ahead of him.

  A large space opened in front of her. The fireplace with its stone hearth sat to the left across the living room. A well-used recliner and long leather couch faced a wall-mounted TV and made up most of the furniture. There was a scattering of shelves that held books and newspapers sat piled on the floor. The room flowed into what would be a dining area if there had been a table, with a bar separating the kitchen the only division of the space. Stairs on the far side of the room led to a second floor.

  “You seriously need more furniture, but this is gorgeous.”

  Brad watched Emma move past him to examine photographs, matted and framed, hanging on the wall. She examined them intently. “These are great. They catch the starkness, the loneliness, of this ghost town. Is it around here?”

  He walked up to look over her shoulder at the prints. “Yeah, that’s Bodie. It’s a gold-mining town from the late eighteen hundreds out near the Nevada border. The light was great that day.”

  She glanced at him and Brad noted a rose tinge to her cheeks where she’d gotten some sun. She must have noticed his attention because she looked flustered before turning back to the images. “You took these?”

  “Yeah.”

  She leaned forward to study them more closely. “They really are very good. It looks like you could walk down the dirt street and a steely-eyed gunslinger would step out of the past.”

  As she inspected the prints, Brad forced himself to take a steadying breath. He didn’t know why, he didn’t know how, but when he first locked eyes on her Friday night he’d swear he’d felt a click, something internal that had recognized in her the woman he’d been waiting for. It felt like everything before that moment was just marking time until the arrival of Emmaline. Something about her pulled at him in a way nothing had before. Maybe it was because a photo of her at eighteen had intrigued him for the better part of a decade. He didn’t want to make her nervous, so Brad knew he had to rein in his response. That her eyes took on a cool edge when she looked at him made him realize he’d need to proceed with caution or he’d end up scaring her off.

  Limiting himself to just a brief touch to her hand, he motioned toward the kitchen. “Coffee is this way.”

  He filled a mug from a half-full pot and handed it to her. “Milk is in the fridge.” He motioned to a jelly jar on the counter. “There’s the sugar.”

  “Um, thanks.” She got the milk and added the sugar, then took a long sip before raising guarded eyes to his.

  Maybe it wasn’t a bad thing to make her aware of him. “Good?”

  Emma stared blankly before nodding jerkily. “Yeah. And very much appreciated.”

  He refilled his cup and then leaned against the counter. “I want to know about the vehicle you saw last night.”

  Emma shrugged. “Somebody came up the driveway and then sat there with the engine idling, their headlights shining into the cabin. It was probably nothing.”

  “It made you uncomfortable so it’s not nothing. Tell me everything you noticed. What type of vehicle was it?”

  “It was big, I think an SUV. Suburban or Ford Expedition size. I thought it might have been yours, but your headlights were squared and I think these were rounder. It pulled up next to my car and just sat there. Nobody got out, and th
en it drove away.” She looked wary. “I guess it made me nervous.”

  “How long did it sit there?”

  “Maybe four or five minutes.”

  He asked several more questions but wasn’t able to get any more details. “If anything like that happens again, I want you to call me immediately. I can be at your place in minutes.”

  “I really don’t think—”

  “Emmaline, call me.”

  Shrugging again, she glanced around his kitchen as if looking for a way to change the subject. “Okay.”

  He sipped his coffee and wondered if she could see the potential in what he’d started. He tried to look at the room from a woman’s perspective. He guessed the windows needed curtains but other than that he thought it looked fine.

  “Did you just buy this place?”

  “No, I built it myself. I’ve been focused on finishing the upstairs rooms so I haven’t bought much in the way of furniture or other stuff.”

  Emma stared at him, eyes wide in amazement. “You built this house? It’s incredible.” She ran her hand over the polished stone countertop. “How did you install this? Does the stone come already polished, or did you do that yourself?”

  Brad watched her glide slender fingers over the surface. “I bought it polished but saved money by installing it myself.”

  “I love the color. What about the cabinets? They’re maple, aren’t they? Did they come preassembled, or did you build them?”

  Who’d have known that his house would be what it took to get her to let down her guard. “Yeah, I made them myself. I’m pleased with how they turned out.”