Cautious, he shined his flashlight into the car’s interior, checking out the passenger seat, then the backseat, and let it slowly illuminate the inside of the small car, telling him she was indeed alone.
Automatically he shifted into cop mode. “Evening, ma’am. Nasty night tonight. Is everything all right? Could I see your license and registration, please?”
“Sure,” Hayden replied, trying to make her voice sound calm. “Is there a problem?”
Despite the cold rain, she did her best to stop shaking long enough to hand off the piece of plastic that was her brand-new driver’s license and the registration, hoping it wouldn’t get soaking wet.
As soon as Ethan’s hand touched hers in the exchange, however briefly, a series of images bombarded him again.
Danger seemed to surround this woman. The letters ER kept coming at him so fast he finally had to focus on studying her ID. Ethan relied on the flashlight to read, first the driver’s license, and then the registration. The name Hayden Ryan matched both. The Nevada license read SEX: F, HAIR: BLK, EYES: GRN, HT: 5-07 WT: 125.
Everything seemed in order, nice and tidy. No doubt the photo ID matched the driver behind the wheel. But something was off. He just didn’t know what it was. With nothing concrete, he couldn’t very well hold her based on dangerous vibes.
He had to almost shout over the wind and the rain. “You’re blocking the roadway, ma’am. When you pull off onto the shoulder, make sure you’re all the way off otherwise you’re a road hazard. On a night like tonight somebody could easily speed up behind you, try to brake, lose control, and slide right into you. The road narrows some here, anyway.”
“Oh. Well. I didn’t think of that. I couldn’t see very well in the pouring rain, so I tried to pull off for a bit. But I didn’t want to get stuck. I must’ve gotten turned around after dark looking for a gas station. I’m almost running on fumes.”
“You got lost. No car trouble?”
“No car trouble. I was trying to make Santa Cruz tonight. But I don’t have the gas for that unless Santa Cruz is right around the corner.” She smiled nervously. She’d never been very good at flirting and tonight was no exception.
He smiled. “Ah. Well, you’re not even close to Santa Cruz. Pelican Pointe is where you landed and out in the middle of nowhere at that. But lucky for you there’s a bed and breakfast just down the road. You can stay there for the night if they aren’t sold out.” Since it was past tourist season Ethan doubted they’d be full up. “Place is called Promise Cove. If you’ll follow me I’ll show you where it is. I know the owners.”
Of course you do, Hayden thought, mildly irritated, as she did an automatic calculation of how much cash she had on hand in her backpack. She knew B & B’s could be a tad on the pricey side. But with her name change she’d also gotten one credit card for emergencies which she had tucked away in her wallet. It had a five thousand dollar credit limit. She had yet to use it for anything. She supposed she could break down and indulge herself for one night at a cozy B & B. She really didn’t want to spend the night in the car on the side of the road.
“All right then, Deputy. You lead the way,” she finally managed to tell him.
Ethan nodded and climbed back into his truck. He immediately reached for his cell phone to dial Promise Cove. Wouldn’t do any good to lead the woman to the B & B if they didn’t have an available room.
But tourist season usually ended with Labor Day and it was now the middle of September. As soon as Jordan Harris picked up, Ethan got right to it. “I got a stranded motorist, Jordan, about a thousand yards from your front door. Female. Name’s Hayden Ryan. She needs a room for the night. Can you help me out?”
“As a matter of fact, we can. You on your way?”
“Yep. We’ll be there in five. Thanks, Jordan.” Ethan disconnected. He didn’t add that Hayden Ryan had acted skittish for some reason. No need mentioning the gut feeling he’d gotten to Jordan. Probably nothing to it anyway, he decided, more like, alone on a dark stretch of road in the pouring rain and edgy about running out of gas.
His brother, Brent, would have said the gut feeling was the shaman in Ethan, a gift from their father’s Chumash heritage passed down through the Santa Ynez.
Like his father, Ethan had an intuitive side about him. He’d known early on he had a certain something that frequently allowed him to “read people” he’d sometimes rather not.
Like the time in the ninth grade he’d picked up on Janie Sullivan wanting to get all hot and sweaty after the basketball game. Okay, maybe that had been a good vibe and one that had eventually led him to losing his virginity that very night on a sandy spot of beach where the two of them were so green they hadn’t even had the good sense to remember to bring a blanket.
But for every positive instance there had been twenty others that had made him feel just plain weird because he really didn’t care to know his little league coach had been getting it on with Ruthie Ann Jenner, the mother of his ten-year-old best friend, Todd.
In his line of work, though, using his intuition or his gut feeling or reading people sometimes served a useful purpose every now and then when things got dicey and he needed to figure out how best to handle a crisis situation with a volatile subject.
As soon as Ethan hung up the phone with Jordan, he cut the flashing lights and put the truck in gear. He pulled around the Mini Cooper in order to lead the way and waited for her to start her car.
Hayden followed him down the dark road and suddenly wondered if she might be following a serial killer to her death. Had he been wearing a uniform? She tried to remember if he’d been dressed in official looking clothes.
All she’d been able to make out was the man’s dark eyes and obvious Native American good looks, his strong chin with its slight cleft indentation and his hair worn longer than what one might expect from a member of law enforcement.
She’d been so shaken at seeing those emergency lights she hadn’t been able to think straight. Maybe she should have asked to look at his ID, she thought now.
Just when she was working herself into a good panic over it, the headlights of his truck coupled with her own, highlighted an apple green sign that read, “Promise Cove Bed and Breakfast, established 2009 by Scott Phillips. Jordan and Nick Harris, Proprietors.”
Okay, so maybe he was no serial killer.
When he took a left, thanks to her headlights, she caught a quick glance at the official-looking seal on the driver’s side door that signified the vehicle was indeed a county police car.
She breathed a sigh of relief and continued to follow him into the turn down a long driveway that seemed to go on and on till they reached an old Queen Anne Victorian that stood large and looming in the dark. That is, until the front door flew open letting out a burst of light from inside the house.
The deputy motioned for her to go around him and park at the side of the house.
As soon as she’d pulled the Mini up beside a Ford Explorer, the deputy got out, shouldering the weight of the wind and the pouring rain to walk her to the front door and make sure she got safely inside. From somewhere he’d found an umbrella.
Hayden grabbed her backpack, purse and suitcase and prepared to step out into the wet, chilly night. She flipped the hood up on her jacket, opened the car door and found the deputy holding the open umbrella for her, and waiting with his arm stretched out for her to hand him her suitcase. Reluctantly she handed off the luggage and together they walked up to the wide massive wooden front porch where the deputy closed the umbrella and set it down by the front door.
Another black-haired man, this one with lake blue eyes, stood waiting, holding open one of the twin front doors and stepped aside so they could both come in out of the weather. Briefly they all three stood in the wide entryway until the man said, “Ethan, good to see you. Nasty storm. Been busy?”
“Hey Nick. Yeah, it’s been a bad one. You and Jordan doing okay out here? No problems with the power?”
“So far, so go
od. And the new roof’s holding like a gem, too.”
To Hayden, he stuck out his hand and introduced himself. “Nick Harris. I’d say it’s a pleasure, but getting stranded on the side of the road in the dark in the middle of a Pacific storm is not much fun.”
When a woman with long honey blond hair appeared in the foyer carrying a little girl on her hip, Nick turned in their direction, beaming, and said, “This is my wife, Jordan.”
Fogged brain from the nap in the car, Hayden struggled to remember the new name. The harder she tried the more it slipped away. She’d never been the type of person to wake easily and now the hours spent behind the wheel seemed to be catching up with her.
Glancing at the good-looking couple, the innkeepers, who all but gave off warm and cozy, home and hearth, she felt a bit drained and a lot disheveled.
Nerves hit her all of a sudden. She stumbled over her words. “Um, uh Hayden…uh, Ryan. Hayden Ryan.” It wasn’t every day she introduced herself using her new name. Damn, she’d have to work on that. As she tried to overcome her jitters, Nick took her coat and hung it on a peg by the front door.
“Well, let’s get you set up,” Nick offered. “I’ll take your things on up. You’ll be staying in the Sand Dollar Room. It’s one of our best with its own bathroom.”
Ethan handed Nick her suitcase and noticed Hayden’s teeth chattering.
Jordan saw it too and ushered them both into the living room toward the roaring fire, blazing in a gigantic stone fireplace. Chatting all the way, Jordan told Hayden, “The Sand Dollar has a view of the ocean and access to the back balcony. As Nick said it’s our best. We ate dinner at seven, but I can fix you a plate. Roast beef with baby carrots and potatoes. Apple pie for dessert. Do you prefer tea or coffee?”
“Tea, please. That all sounds heavenly,” Hayden finally managed. “I’ve been starving for hours.”
“I bet you have. You were so close to us, too. But I bet you couldn’t see a thing in all this rain. Now you come over here and sit by the fire, get warm.” Jordan turned to Ethan. “And you stay for a plate as well, Ethan. There’s plenty. Even though the tourist season is pretty much over I still haven’t adjusted my recipes. Still cooking for a houseful of people.”
“I could eat. Thanks, Jordan. And I’d love a cup of coffee. Looks like it’s going to be a long night. Let me just radio in.” Ethan stepped back out into the foyer to make his call.
“Where are you from?” Jordan asked casually, as she drifted closer to the stone fireplace, hoping her nervous guest would follow. She eased the baby down on the floor to toddle. “Since we opened last May, we get people staying here from all over the world. Last summer we had a couple from Scotland, another from France, and a family visiting California for the first time from Sweden.”
Hayden’s mind raced trying to memorize what she’d practiced a dozen times. She walked closer to the fire, not to get warm but to take her time as she desperately tried to recall her story. But her mind went blank. Never a good liar, she couldn’t pull her made-up history out of her fog-brained head fast enough. For no apparent reason she blurted out, “Nebraska.”
The minute the word left her mouth, she realized her mistake. Her driver’s license had read Nevada the same as the registration on her plates, not Nebraska.
God, could she be any dumber or any more nervous.
If she’d been hoping the sheriff’s deputy had been distracted enough to pay no attention to her blunder as he carried on a conversation with his dispatcher, she was in for a major disappointment. Because suddenly she noted he eyed her with open suspicion.
His dark, cop eyes sent out contemptuous daggers loaded with distrust. Damn it. She visibly winced. Nothing said hostility like the deputy’s furious stare.
His face said it all. She was raising felony red flags faster than Charles Manson.
Two seconds later, Hayden tried for damage control. “Nevada, I meant Nevada.” She thunked her own forehead with her palm. “Tells you how out of it I am. I’ve been driving since this morning. The nap in the car must have fogged my brain more than I thought.”
She forced herself to look into Ethan’s mistrustful eyes. “I didn’t live long in Nevada. It didn’t suit me.”
For a distraction, Hayden bent down to pet the multicolored mutt of a dog that had wandered over to lean against her leg. The furry thing hung out his tongue, appreciating the attention and rolled over on his back to let her stroke his belly.
Hayden put more into the gesture to buy more time.
But Ethan simply watched her with cop interest, as if he thought she might wait until everyone went to bed and murder them all in their sleep.
Without leaving Hayden’s stare, to make sure Jordan understood just how much he regretted bringing this woman to their doorstep tonight and to make his point, Ethan offered, “Ms. Ryan here was on her way to Santa Cruz. It was Santa Cruz, wasn’t it? Or maybe it was some other place?”
The implication came through loud and clear. The “some other place” comment hinted he didn’t buy her name any more than he did the Nevada address on her driver’s license. “Yes, it was Santa Cruz. And it’s just Hayden,” she said flatly, as she stood up from petting the dog and crossed her arms over her chest in a defiant gesture.
Jordan ignored Ethan’s accusing tone and made her own assessment. The woman looked worn out and defeated. “So you’re looking to stay in the area? Maybe you’re looking for a job, maybe you’d consider settling in Pelican Pointe instead of going all the way to Santa Cruz.”
“Well…uh, I do need a job. But that’s why I thought I’d check out Santa Cruz. I’d heard good things about it. You know, a bigger job market there.” She’d read up about the coastal town while sitting in the library, figured it was better than the Bay area on her budget. “Before it got dark I saw some very pretty woods and rolling hills off the 101.”
“There are plenty of both around here. Pelican Pointe isn’t as big as Santa Cruz that’s for sure. And it’s off the beaten path, which means there aren’t a lot of jobs to be had here, but there are business opportunities. I know Drea Jennings opened a florist shop in town last month. Her family owns The Plant Habitat, the local nursery in town. Drea’s Flowers are all grown locally, even the orchids. It’s kind of an extension of the family business, a vertical, I think they call it. But with Homecoming approaching, and the holidays, Drea might need an extra pair of hands. And Murphy’s been talking about adding another cashier at the store. And Margie might need a waitress down at the Diner. She’s always complaining she can’t keep wait staff on the evening shift. What do you think, Ethan?”
“My guess is Miss Ryan is probably looking for a bigger place to lose herself in than Pelican Pointe.”
At the deputy’s cold tone, Hayden’s temper uncharacteristically sparked as she pointed out, “If I’d wanted to lose myself, Deputy, I would have headed to San Francisco. Last time I checked San Fran is infinitely larger than Santa Cruz by a few hundred thousand people.”
Ethan leveled his eyes on her and countered, “The name is Ethan Cody, Ms. Ryan. And I have no problem remembering my name, or where I’ve lived.”
Of course you’ve never had to remember a lie Hayden thought. Your life is probably nothing short of perfect. And you don’t happen to have an angry Russian trying to murder you either.
But when Hayden opened her mouth to make a catty comeback nothing came out. She bit her lip instead. Great, she thought, I’ve been here two seconds and already made an enemy, an enemy wearing a uniform. One more reason to move on first thing in the morning, she decided.
That is, if she could just get through tonight.
When Nick reappeared, sensing sudden tension in the air, Jordan, ever the hostess, turned to Hayden. “Nick will show you to your room, where you can get settled while I get the food ready. Take all the time you need to freshen up and unpack. There’s no hurry. Dinner will be waiting for you when you’re ready.”
“Thanks,” Hayden muttered weari
ly, as she glanced back at Ethan.
“This way,” Nick offered as he started back up the stairs.
As soon as they’d disappeared, Jordan headed off into the kitchen with Ethan trailing behind. “What was that all about?”
“Don’t know, but there is something off with that woman.”
“How so? You mean that Nebraska/Nevada thing?”
Reluctant to sound harsh but knowing Nick and Jordan deserved to know who they would be sharing their home with for the night, Ethan explained, “Yeah. Her license and tags read Nevada. And were both dated just two weeks ago. Now, here she is in California looking for work. I get the sense the woman might be on the run, Jordan.”
Knowing Pelican Pointe wasn’t the friendliest of towns Jordan eyed Ethan and calmly pointed out, “That suspicious nature, Ethan, is exactly what keeps newcomers away from Pelican Pointe. And could it be that maybe Hayden Ryan is tired because she’s been behind the wheel all day, just like she said, and got a little anxious because she got lost and feared she might run out of gas on a strange, dark, unfamiliar road out in the middle of nowhere. Or it could be she’s suffering from some type of head injury or illness.”
Jordan cocked her head and smiled knowingly. “I believe in giving people the benefit of the doubt, second chances, Ethan. But then, I’m not a deputy sheriff,” she added, as she went directly to the cabinet and took down two huge matching mugs. She turned to the ever-present coffee pot and poured Ethan a cup of steaming liquid, handed it off.
Ethan grinned as he took the cup and looked around for the sugar. “You’re probably right. Force of habit. She did look tired. I think she might have been asleep in her car when I found her.”
“There you go. Disoriented. You woke her up, surprised her.” As she started setting out food from the commercial fridge, she reminded him, “You never know what problems a person has just by looking at them, Ethan. There are all kinds of people out there having rough times for various reasons.” She thought of her own Nick and how troubled he had been when he had first arrived in Pelican Pointe.
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