She held his eyes without flinching.
“And still is.”
In the background, the fire continued to crackle and pop. Neither said anything for what seemed like hours but was probably only minutes.
“Do you know what MEQ stands for?” Vicky asked.
“No, I’m not familiar with that. What is it?”
“I don’t know either,” she answered.” “I saw it in the site trailer.”
“We could Google it.” Christiaan instinctively reached for his phone from his back pocket. Empty. “Oops, I still don’t have my phone.”
“Wouldn’t matter. No cell coverage on this part of the mountain.”
“Wifi?”
“Nope. No computer here either. I like my serenity and privacy.”
“I guess you do,” he commented, realizing he hadn’t seen a radio or television anywhere in the lodge since his arrival. “You said you saw this acronym in the trailer?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t remember anything like what she described the last time he’d been in the trailer. Of course, he wasn’t that familiar with what should be in a site trailer. Like his father before him, Christiaan was always in the periphery of a project.
But Vicky’s observations made him curious. What could those maps be about? And what about that report the seismologist had mentioned?
Christiaan peered out the window. Luckily, the sun had yet to begin its descent into dusk. Enough time to drive back to the site and see what Vicky had stumbled across.
“I’d really like to see what’s in that building. I’m heading back out there before it gets dark.” He stood. “Where are your truck keys?”
Vicky jumped to her feet. “I’m going along.”
“No.” Christian shook his head. “You need to rest.”
“Yeah, but you need me more than I need rest.”
“Really? Why’s that?”
One side of her mouth lifted into a half-grin.
“Do Barons know how to pick locks?”
At any moment, Vicky expected to wake up and discover she’d been dreaming. That the events of the last eight years were simply an illusion brought on by exhaustion, stress, or too many jalapenos on her pizza.
That she hadn’t wasted those years believing Christiaan capable of murder.
That the man she still loved wasn’t sitting behind the wheel of her old pickup truck, grinding what gears remained on the long-past-worn-out transmission.
That her mental torment paled in comparison to the pain of treachery he’d feel if he realized his precious Bri’s horrible error.
Guilt stabbed like a knife. Christiaan hadn’t betrayed her. He hadn’t had her killed. He hadn’t married Astrid.
He’d known about the baby. He’d mourned his precious Bri.
He loved her. Still.
“My God,” Vicky sighed, leaning her head against the passenger-side window. “What have I done?”
“Sorry?” Christiaan struggled with the stick shift. “I didn’t catch that.”
Her body stiffened. “I… I… said, ‘Pick a gear. Any gear’.”
The metallic sound of clutch plate grinding against flywheel answered her as Christiaan pulled onto the dirt road leading into the Mineral Springs property.
“You said you knew how to drive a stick.” Vicky fought to keep her voice casual.
“I do.” He laughed. “Just not one originally built by Henry Ford himself.”
With what little humor she could manage, Vicky smiled.
“I could have driven,” she said, grimacing as the truck whined and groaned. “And saved what’s left of my transmission.”
“Yes, you could have. But I’m not the one on painkillers.”
“Good point.” Leaning back into the worn seat, Vicky closed her eyes. Too bad said painkillers did nothing to dull the shocking realization that she had betrayed their love, not him. If she had trusted him, she wouldn’t have lost the baby, and they’d have the family they’d always wanted.
“Hmm… that’s interesting.” Christiaan’s voice pierced her torturous thoughts.
Vicky eyes shot open then followed to where he pointed. Parked next to the site office were a couple of pickup trucks.
“Gee, where were these guys when I was stuck earlier?” she said, peering around the rest of the clearing. Several pieces of equipment now sat next to the drilling rig. “And where was this stuff?”
“Definitely not here when I found you. It was just me and one crazy, dive-bombing hawk.”
“Yeah, I’ve got a bone to pick with that bird, too.” Vicky glanced past stacks of empty pallets towards the cliff where the hawk had attacked her. “So, this is Summit Energy back from a dinner break?”
“Can’t be.” Christiaan pulled up next to the pickup trucks and turned the engine off. “I told Baz to suspend all work until we could sort things out with your people.”
“Then explain the unsecured gate we drove through at the entrance to this site.”
“Actually, the rangers had to bust the lock when they came to help you.” Christiaan reached for his back pocket. “I’ll text Baz and tell him to get it fix—Potverdomme! I keep forgetting I don’t have my phone.”
“And I forgot my backpack and walkie talkie.” ‘Cause I’m not thinking straight. For a moment, she studied Christiaan intently. Her husband. Her loving husband.
Her loving husband she believed capable of murder. Pain squeezed her heart.
Christiaan stared back in waiting silence. A familiar shiver of awareness seemed to pass between them. Then he smiled. That irresistible, devastating smile she’d fallen in love with so many years ago.
If he knew what I’ve done, it would kill him. The thought stuck her like an avalanche. She’d killed Bri, not him. Vicky jammed a hand through her hair.
“You okay?” he asked, touching her lightly on the shoulder. Her heart almost stopped as she felt all the caring he was capable of surge through her body.
“Hey!” Christiaan shook her a bit. “Are. You. Okay?”
Chewing on her lower lip, she breathed deeply, trying to calm herself before answering. Exhaling slowly, she managed a simple, “Yes.”
“Great,” he answered before jumping out of the cab, obviously unaware of her inner turmoil. Vicky exited, too, slamming the door to her truck and her emotions closed. Focus on the present, not the past.
“Potverdomme! It’s getting colder.” Christiaan rubbed his arms.
“Yeah, we’re running out of sun and daylight. There should be a couple of pullovers behind the seat.”
Leaning back into the cab, he threw the bench seat forward and started rummaging.
“Dean’s got an old blue one in there that should fit you,” Vicky said. “I’ll take the red one.”
Christiaan tossed her the garment before slipping on Dean’s, then closed the truck door.
Yanking the pullover over her head, she then stepped next to one of the other vehicles and scanned the inside. Typical male fare. Old coffee cups on the seat. Past-due bills shoved between the dash and windshield. Empty beer cans on the floorboard. Bear claw and mini donut wrappers strewn everywhere. A rifle in the gun rack.
“Relic scavengers?” Christiaan asked, peering in from the other side of the truck.
“Possibly.” She nodded. “But they’re wasting their time. Most of this area has been picked clean for some time.”
“Maybe they’re hoping to lift a few things from here.” Christiaan stepped over to the field office and looked into the window. “But I guess they couldn’t get past the lock, unlike some people.”
Vicky walked to the door. “Then they’re complete idiots,” she said, pointing to the unlatched lock.
Christiaan laughed as he approached. “I guess I didn’t need you after all.”
The painkillers must be screwing with her mind. She could have sworn she’d locked up when she left earlier.
Christiaan stepped up, swung the door open, and entered. Vicky slipped
in behind him, wondering if she’d forgotten to turn the lights off, too.
“Anything seem to be missing?” As far as Vicky could tell, other than the lock and lights, everything seemed to be exactly as before.
“I wouldn’t know.” Christiaan shrugged his shoulders as he weaved around various equipment, crates, and boxes. “On-site is Baz’s domain, not mine. I’m usually handling my end from the boardroom. But I am a bit surprised by the amount of stuff here considering we’re only a month into this phase of the project.”
“And you didn’t notice this when you were here before because…?”
“Because Baz was merely giving me a site walk-through, familiarizing me with what’s on the ground with what I’d seen on paper.”
“You fly all the way from The Netherlands for a project that’s…,” she said, making air quotes. “‘… extremely behind and getting extremely expensive’ and all you got was a cursory tour?”
Christiaan stiffened then turned to face her. “I was trying not to step on Baz’s toes. He’s been working on this project for over ten years.”
And Baz’s toes were easily injured. As Bri, she’d often remarked to Christiaan about his friend’s thin skin, but he always defended Baz. Een vriend achter je rug is een veilige brug. A friend at one’s back is a safe bridge.
“Still so protective.”
“Still?” Christian looked puzzled.
Panic knotted in her throat. Careful, girl. Don’t give yourself away. “I— I could tell during the summit climb that the two of you are close. The kind of close guys get after being friends for a really long time.”
“Yeah, that happens when you grow up together.” Christiaan nodded his head then grinned. “He’s like the little brother I never had.”
More like a big brother to her. Baz had been there for her after discovering Astrid answering Christiaan hotel room phone. The next day, she’d run into Baz and his friends exchanging gifts in a pub where she’d gone to soften the sting of her husband’s affair. Too drunk to drive, she’d let Baz give her a lift back to the estate. The next morning, he’d graciously retrieved her car. That was the last time she saw him.
A warm hand brushing against her cheek brought her back to the present. Without thinking, Vicky closed her eyes and nuzzled against his touch.
“You sure you’re okay?” Softly, his breath fanned her face.
Raising her lids, she gazed at him. His eyes brimmed with tenderness and concern. For a brief second, she was tempted to tell him everything. Who she was. What she’d done. How she’d screwed up the best thing that had ever happened to her.
“Vicky?”
Vicky? That’s right. I’m Vicky. Brianna is dead. I killed her. I. Killed. Us. A suffocating sensation tightened her throat. If he knew the truth, he’d hate her.
He must never know. Ever.
“I’m fine, really.” Looking away, she pulled out of his grasp and cleared her throat. “Um… what I wanted to show you is in the back.” She led him into the small office.
Christiaan walked the perimeter, peering at the various items hanging from the walls. “Baz stepped me through some of this when I got here. Some he explained. Some he didn’t. Mostly geoengineering stuff. Basic geological surveys. Some surface topographic maps. Some aerial photography.”
“Where’s the one with the funny green crosses?” Vicky pointed to the empty spot where the Forest Service map had been.
“Funny green crosses?” Christiaan snickered.
“Yeah, funny green crosses. Almost religious looking. Right next to it was a clipboard noting drilling depths. Depths that easily exceeded normal exploratory distances.”
“Couldn’t have. We’re not drilling yet.”
Vicky gritted her teeth and continued searching. “But according to both the map and the clipboard, you were. Five spots located all around the Mineral Springs area.”
“Okay, show me.” His condescending tone irked her. “Where’s this incriminating evidence?”
Good question. Where was the damn thing?
“What about the maps you were talking about with the weird ovals and colored dots?” Christiaan asked. “Where are they?”
“In here.” She headed over to the two filing cabinets, popped the lock on one, and opened the bottom drawer. “In a cardboard tube.”
“You’re quite the criminal.” Christiaan closed the space between them to take a closer look at the contents.
Vicky ignored his comment but couldn’t ignore his smell. Delicious. A rich, intoxicating mix of man, sweat, and sandalwood. Falling asleep next to it in her former life was intoxicating. Waking up to it… provocative.
And tasting it during sex… better than any chocolate made on earth.
“There’s nothing here.” Christiaan’s sharp tone startled her.
Damn. The drawer was empty. Completely empty. Nothing but air.
“They were right here,” she said. “Rolled up in two cardboard tubes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!” She ground the word out between clenched teeth. “I pulled the maps out and laid them on that table to look at.” She’d put them back. She was sure of it.
“Could you have laid them somewhere else?” he asked quietly, but with a slight edge to his voice.
“No! I put them back exactly where I’d found them.” With her foot, she slammed the drawer shut while she opened another with her hand. It, too, was empty. She tried another. Empty. Another. The same. “There were file folders in every single one of these,” she stammered in disbelief and anger.
“Well, they aren’t now, Miss Golden.” His return to formality wasn’t lost on her. She recognized her husband’s attempt to tether a smoldering anger. She’d experienced it many times in her previous life. Christiaan stood, turned, and then leaned against the cabinet. Even before she looked up, she guessed the muscle on the right side of his jaw pulsed.
Vicky inhaled deeply. Focus. You’re your own woman. Not the one that got pushed around.
Maybe she had the wrong cabinet. Popping the lock on the second one, she jerked every drawer open. Empty, too.
“I’m telling you there were all kinds of stuff in here from pictures to computer printouts to—” Vicky spun around. Computer. Rushing over to the machine, she leaned forward to boot it up. “Maybe we can find something in here.”
“You broke into the computer, too?” Christiaan asked, coming to stand next to her.
“Not exactly. There are quite a few files here, but I couldn’t get past the passwords. Perhaps you can help with that.”
He leaned over her shoulder to peer at the screen. “Depends on the file.” She shuddered as his breath tickled her neck. Focus, girl. Focus.
The Summit Energies logo appeared on-screen as she rattled off the names she could remember. “Costs to Date, Marketing Strategy, Proposals, etc.”
“I wouldn’t mind taking a look at Costs to Date myself. My admin password should get us into those.”
“Great. And there were a few in Dutch and one in a language I didn’t recognize. Di— diord fi… fionn, I think.”
“That’s not Dutch. Sounds Irish.”
Vicky clicked to the file management area. Damn. As empty as the filing cabinets.
“What the hell?” She closed the file and reopened it, hoping somehow the effort would make a difference.
It didn’t. Everything was gone.
“Miss Golden.” Christiaan’s stare drilled into her. “I don’t know exactly what you’re trying to pull here but—”
“Pull here?” Vicky shot straight up. “Pull here? Are you suggesting that somehow I made everything up?”
His blue eyes darkened as he held her gaze without answering. Typical van Laere argument tactic. Let a long silence prey on your opponent.
Well, she wasn’t a van Laere anymore. She was a Golden. And Goldens prefer in-your-face tactics.
She lifted her chin and met his glare with one of her own. “You think I stole it.”
“No,” he answered in a voice so low and so slow the condescension conveyed by it pissed her off even more. “I think you helped your ShastaWatch cohorts steal it.”
“Are you kidding me? Why would we do that?”
“For the same reason you’ve done everything until now… to stop this project. For all I know, that’s what you were finishing up when you got trapped on that cliff.”
“Did you find anything on me? Were there any maps or paperwork or anything in my backpack when you got the walkie talkie out to call for help?”
Christiaan shook his head. “No, but your ShastaWatch buddies could have taken it.”
“And left me as bear food. Not likely.”
“If you and your friends didn’t steal it, then where is it?”
“Then you admit the information exists?” Vicky couldn’t stop the smug smile crossing her face. “That Summit Energy was drilling despite your lease restrictions?”
“I’ve already told you we’re not.”
“Despite the drilling rig sitting in the clearing.”
“That isn’t drilling because I’ve put this project on hold.”
“But was drilling before?”
“No.” He paused, his face creased with an odd expression. “It wasn’t drilling before.”
“Despite what the map and clipboard showed?”
He cocked his head toward the hole where map and clipboard had been. “What map and clipboard, Ms. Golden?”
They stood in silence for a minute then broke into ironic laughter.
“This circle of argument could go on for hours,” Vicky admitted.
“Look, it’s possible that Baz could have removed everything.” Christiaan stood, turned, and then leaned against the table. “Obviously, he cleared out the filing cabinets, pulled important documents from the walls, and dropped everything from the computer on a thumb drive.”
“But why would he do that?”
“Because I told him I wanted to put this project on hold until we could come to some mutual agreement with ShastaWatch.” The corner of Christiaan’s lip twisted. “Considering what I just witnessed with the filing cabinet locks, I’m glad he did.”
Vicky ignored the later comment to focus on the former one. “So Mineral Springs is definitely on hold?”
'Til Death Us Do Part Page 14