by Beverly Long
“Well, then, I suspect it won’t take long for the news of your accident to get to your dad.”
He heard her quick catch of breath and knew that her first instinct would be to call her father, to make sure that he didn’t worry about her. “Call your dad. Tell him what’s going on.”
She shook her head. “I wasn’t happy about my father’s wedding. Dad and Claudia had had a whirlwind relationship. And I was worried that Dad was moving too fast. I did try to be happy for him but I don’t think I hid my concerns all that well.”
It had been difficult getting used to the idea that Claudia, the CEO that rarely interacted with the employees of Linder Automation, was now her stepmother.
And unfortunately, the more she got to know her, the less Chandler had liked her.
“My dad and I had a big argument shortly after he and Claudia got married. He was upset because I didn’t attend an awards ceremony where Claudia was getting an award. I tried to tell him that she never invited me but she’d told him something different. I guess he believed her.”
“So you can’t go to him with accusations that your stepmother is committing treason and tried to run you off the road unless you’re sure of it.”
“Exactly. I just hate that he’ll be worried. Me missing and the cabin blown up. None of it will make any sense. He’s going to call Mack and it will drive Mack crazy, especially if he’s out of the country working.”
If he knew anything about his best friend, Mack would plow through hell or high water to get back to the States.
He’d protect his sister with his life.
And he’d expect Ethan to do the same.
Chapter Five
“This is a mess,” she said.
It was hard to argue that. But it wasn’t necessarily her mess, and that was weighing on Ethan’s conscience. Maybe the explosion at the McCann cabin had nothing to do with Chandler and what she’d stumbled upon at work.
Maybe it was because of him.
But to explain that, he’d have to explain the whole crazy situation. And how safe would she feel with him if she suspected that even a portion of the charges the military had brought against him were true?
How would she feel if she suspected that he’d sold out his buddies, causing eight to die?
Might be enough to send her running off into the night. Without protection. Without a fully loaded gun and someone who knew how to use it.
So he kept his mouth shut. And told himself that he was doing it for her. Certainly not because he was afraid of what he’d see in her pretty green eyes if she knew the truth.
“You’re sure it’s safe to go back?” she asked.
He regretted telling her that. But he was confident that they could go back in on foot which would allow them to approach quietly, from an unexpected direction. They could cut across the fields and it wouldn’t be much more than a mile.
He wasn’t concerned about finding his way, even in the snow. He, Mack and Brody had walked this area every summer day for years. A few fences may have been put up since he was a teen but he doubted there was anything that he couldn’t navigate around, even in the dark.
But even a mile could be a long way in several inches of snow. It was going to be a wet, slippery, difficult walk. He had on boots but she had just her loafers. And she had an injured shoulder. But he didn’t think there was a chance in hell that she was going to let him go in alone. And he wanted to see it. Wanted to know whether he’d been the target. Wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for that would confirm or deny that but he wanted a look.
“We can get there,” he said. “Here’s what I think is going to happen. The emergency response folks are going to make sure that the fire is out. They’re going to light that area up and while your car is some distance from the cabin, I think it’s possible that somebody will see your car. If that happens, some brave soul is going to get a ladder and very carefully climb up, in an effort to assess the status of the people in the car.”
“And when there’s nobody inside?”
“I imagine that they’ll search the immediate area. When they don’t find anything, at daybreak, a massive search will ensue. The first assumption will be that a body or bodies were thrown from the car. They’re going to think that they’re working against the clock, that someone who is injured and caught up in a tree or lying on the cold ground is living on borrowed time.”
She was quiet for a minute. “As bad as things are, I’m feeling pretty lucky right now.”
“You’re right. You got out of the car and neither of us was in the cabin. We both got lucky.”
“Do you believe in luck running out?” she asked, her tone soft.
“I believe that luck favors the prepared.”
“That’s good enough for me.”
“The people who did this probably aren’t going to be satisfied until they know for sure their mission is accomplished. They’re going to want to be close enough to know that a body was recovered. That may work to our advantage.”
“We’ll be watching for them and they won’t necessarily be watching for us,” she said.
“Right. But it may not be easy to pick out the bad guys. While the cabins are pretty isolated, it was a big blast. Some locals may come to see what’s going on.”
She wiped the palms of her hands on her blue jeans. “Nothing is ever easy. Let’s go.” She opened her door.
He took an extra minute to grab the gun and ammunition that he’d shoved under his seat. When he had first gotten back to the States, he’d had a quick layover in Oregon. Had visited his mother’s grave and gone to the storage locker where he still kept some things, including the handgun, which he’d purchased many years earlier. He’d told himself that he was headed toward the mountains, and everyone carried a gun there. But he’d also felt better knowing that he was armed, in the event that some fool really believed that he could possibly have sold out his friends, his country, and came after him.
When he’d realized that Larry Donovan kept a fully loaded shotgun at the cabin, too, he’d felt even better. And he’d brought it along for extra insurance. But for right now, the Glock felt just right in his pocket.
He got out of the truck and walked around the front of it. Chandler had gotten out and was standing next to her door. He shone the flashlight on her. It was snowing hard and her dark hair was catching the fresh flakes. Under any other circumstances, it would have made a beautiful picture.
“Let me get one more thing,” he said, reaching into the box in the back of the truck and pulling out the binoculars that he’d tossed in at the last minute.
They weren’t military quality, but would certainly be better than nothing. He strung the lanyard over his neck. He started to shove the lid back on the box and stopped. He grabbed his duffel where he’d thrown his extra jeans, shirts and underwear. He pulled out a pair of thick white socks. “Your shoes are going to get soaked and your feet are going to get cold. Not much we can do about that. I’ll take these so at least you’ll have a dry pair to put on later.”
The minute he said it, he knew he’d screwed up. Her pretty green eyes filled with tears.
“What? I’m sorry. You don’t have to wear them.” He stumbled over his words. Chandler had been a rock up to now, taking everything that had come her way. And he’d made her cry with socks.
She put her hand on his arm and he held perfectly still, not wanting to lose the connection.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For getting me out of the tree. For taking me to the Donovan cabin. For getting me away from the fire. For caring that my feet are going to be wet and cold. I’m grateful, Ethan.”
She leaned across the foot that separated them and kissed him. Her lips were soft and warm and he desperately wanted to pull her into his body, to have her wrapped around him.
But he forced himself to just stand still, and when the kiss ended and she pulled back, he was proud that he didn’t beg her not to stop.
She didn’t say anything.
He wasn’t sure his throat would work.
After a long moment of uncomfortable silence, he pulled his hood up and started walking.
* * *
FOR THE MOST PART, she kept up pretty well. There was no conversation as they walked, him leading, her following close behind. She figured he was concentrating, trying to make sure that he had his bearings. She simply focused on putting one foot in front of the other. She was bordering on exhaustion and her shoulder hurt like hell.
But even that couldn’t keep her from thinking about what it had felt like to kiss Ethan Moore.
It had been impulsive and a little awkward. At the same time, it had felt completely right.
Not that he’d seemed to feel the same way.
Maybe he’d been embarrassed. It was hard to say. Certainly, he hadn’t seemed inclined to discuss it, and that hadn’t changed over their mile walk.
He’d been right about the emergency crews. There were flashing lights and voices calling out to one another, their language indiscernible, their presence on the normally quiet mountain horribly intrusive.
While she didn’t know the terrain nearly as well as he did, she wasn’t surprised when she realized that they were approaching the property from the rear, where a bluff butted up to the McCann property. It was the most logical vantage point.
That worried her some, because what if someone else had the same perspective and with each step, they were closer to stumbling over the creeps who had pushed her off the road and most likely firebombed the cabin? It was almost enough to make her run the other direction. But she didn’t. She had Ethan next to her and he made her feel safe.
When they were still a little ways away, he held up his hand, stopping her. “Close enough to see. Far enough away not to be seen,” he said quietly.
“Is it safe?” she whispered back.
“The only way up onto this bluff is the way we came. You have to know the property really well to know that. It’s the best place for us.”
He looked through the binoculars, studied the scene for a long moment, then slipped the lanyard off his neck and handed the binoculars to her. She assessed the situation below.
The snow was so heavy that it was difficult to see. But it appeared that her family’s cabin was destroyed. Whatever had caused the explosion, it had been effective. The modest structure had imploded, with side walls and ceiling collapsing upon one another. There had been a fire, that was evident, but it appeared to have been contained within the structure.
The emergency vehicles they’d seen were gathered around the perimeter. One firefighter continued to douse the structure with water coming from the tank. The others were standing around, talking to one another.
She couldn’t stand to look at it one more minute. She handed the binoculars back to Ethan and closed her eyes, trying to block the horrific image. What was she going to tell her father?
She opened her eyes when she felt Ethan shift. He had the binoculars up to his eyes.
“What?” she asked.
“Activity,” he said. “One of the guys just answered his cell phone and suddenly, everybody is running for their vehicles. The two smaller vehicles are leaving. If I had to guess, I’d say somebody just reported your car in the trees. I suspect they’re going to leave the fire truck here to make sure the fire doesn’t reignite, and the other two are going to the scene.”
“Can we get to the car from here?”
She heard him sigh. “Yeah. But we can’t take the path we took earlier. It’s too close to the road and someone might see us. We can circle around but that means we’ll have to cross the creek.”
She was already pretty wet. How much worse could it be? “Let’s go,” she said.
“Your feet have to be cold.”
“Of course. But I’m not stopping now.”
“I thought that’s what you were going to say.”
It was another ten minutes of slipping and sliding through the snow before they got to the creek. She stopped, catching her breath, while Ethan ran the flashlight up and down the banks. The water was covered by snow. “It’s usually only four or five inches deep,” he said, “but with all the rain we’ve had this week, I’m betting the water level is higher than usual. Plus, there’s probably some current that we’ll have to fight.”
“We should probably hang on to each other.” She held out her hand.
He shook his head. “I’ll carry you across.”
She snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said.
“I’m not being ridiculous. There’s no need for both of us to get wet.”
She thought about that. “What about your gun? You can’t carry me and it.”
“I’ll carry you piggyback. The way Mack used to,” he added.
She remembered how her brother would let her climb onto his back. Then he’d race around the yard and she’d squeal until he dumped her off.
It might work. “What if you drop me?” she said.
“Then you’ll get wet,” he said nonchalantly.
He clearly wasn’t planning on dropping her. “I really don’t think this is necessary,” she said.
“Take off your shoes,” he instructed.
“Why? They’re already so wet and muddy that I’ll have to throw them away.”
“But at least they’re some protection for your feet. I don’t want you to lose them in the creek and then you’ll be barefoot. That’s a recipe for disaster.”
It was not worth arguing about. She took off her loafers and stuffed one into each of her sweatshirt pockets.
He put his gun and his flashlight down on a stump. Then he squatted, she jumped, and his very capable hands were suddenly under her upper thighs, adjusting, settling her.
It was oddly intimate, even though they were both wearing wet blue jeans.
“Okay?” he asked.
Oh, yeah. Ethan Moore asked me to stay over and within hours, I had my legs wrapped around his waist. Her entry into her teenage diary was getting better by the minute. “Ready when you are,” she managed, trying to stay still. He’d been unresponsive to her kiss. A squirm here or a thrust there might send him into a catatonic state.
He picked up his gun and flashlight and they half slid their way down the bank. She heard his boots break through the ice and splash in the water.
It took just seconds to cross the narrow creek. Still, she was terribly grateful for the sweatshirt that he’d given her and glad that it had escaped getting wet. Something that wouldn’t have happened if she’d tried to walk across the creek.
He bent at the knees and she slid off his back.
“What’s your favorite pie?” she asked.
“Huh?”
“All the way across I kept thinking, I owe Ethan big-time. In those circumstances, my go-to solution has been to make a pie.”
He was silent for a minute. “Cherry,” he said. “Warm. With vanilla ice cream.”
“I didn’t say anything about ice cream.”
“I know. There should always be a bigger goal.”
“Vanilla is kind of boring.”
“Traditional. Comforting. Dependable,” he countered.
It was a silly conversation to be having. Especially in the middle of the night, on foot in the mountains, in a blinding snowstorm. And wet to boot.
And after somebody had tried twice to kill her.
No wonder it felt good to engage in the ridiculous.
“Okay. Vanilla ice cream, too,” she said.
“Excellent. You know, that’s what your hair smells like.”
That stopped he
r in her tracks. “Vanilla ice cream?”
“Not just that. Like wild cherries with a little vanilla. I like it.”
Ridiculous had just turned hot. He liked the way she smelled.
“Good shampoo,” she said weakly.
He laughed. “Well, I didn’t think it was pie filling. Let’s get going.”
Her face warm, she pulled her loafers out of her pockets, put them on over her wet socks and started walking.
* * *
THIS TIME THEY did not have the advantage of being able to watch from up high, a good distance away. To see anything, they had to get close.
At the scene, somebody had set up three battery-operated lights. They lit up the area fairly well although the heavy snow made it difficult to see fine detail. They didn’t need that ability to see some guy dressed in a yellow rain slicker half climb, half slide down a ladder. He had a purse and a backpack slung over his shoulder.
“Car is empty,” the man said.
There was a general mutter of disbelief and dismay. It would be a difficult search in the heavy woods in fresh snow.
They watched as he carried both the purse and the backpack over to a parked SUV. He reached into the purse, pulling out her billfold.
“Guess the mystery is solved,” Chandler whispered.
It was only a matter of time before Baker McCann knew that his little girl was missing. And Ethan knew that by daybreak, there’d be an army of volunteers in these woods, attempting to find Chandler.
The smart thing would be for her to turn herself in now. It would save a whole lot of worry for Baker and Mack. And save the volunteers a whole lot of trouble searching the woods unnecessarily.
“It’s not too late,” he said, voicing his thoughts.
“I think it might be. It was too late the minute I started looking at the records of who had viewed those screens.”
“You’re sure you can’t tell your father about your suspicions?”
“My dad waited twenty years to remarry. He told me that he never wanted to until he met Claudia. Now I’m going to accuse her of treason? I can’t do that without proof.”