by Nora Roberts
“Any of you who go on unguided hikes or camp in the area, please exercise caution. However appealing nature may be, however lovely, it has its own defenses. Don’t think that if you see an animal has nibbled on a mushroom or a berry patch, that makes it safe. It’s wiser, and your experience in the forest will be more enjoyable, if you simply look.”
There was a peculiar tightness in her chest, a sensation that made her want to rub the heel of her hand between her breasts to loosen it. She recognized it—an early warning of a panic attack.
Stupid, she told herself, taking steady breaths as she took the group on a winding trail around nurse logs and ferns. She was perfectly safe. There was nothing here but the forest she knew and a handful of tourists.
The man had moved closer yet, close enough so that she could see a light sheen of sweat on his face. She felt cold and vaguely queasy.
“The cool dampness—” Why was he sweating? she wondered. “The cool dampness,” she began again, “in the Olympic rain forest provides the perfect environment for the exuberant growth you see around you. It supports the greatest weight of living matter, per acre, in the world. All the ferns, mosses and lichens you see live here epiphytically. Meaning they make their life on another plant, whether in the overstory of the forest, on the trunks of living trees or in the corpse of a dead one.”
The image of her mother’s body flashed into her mind. “While many of the plants we see here grow elsewhere, it’s only in this area that many of the species reach true perfection. Here on the west side of the Olympic Mountains, in the valleys of Ho, Quinault and Queets, there is the ideal blend of saturation, mild temperatures and topography in perfect proportions to support this prime-temperate rain forest.”
The routine of lecture steadied her. The smattering of comments and questions engaged her mind.
The call of an eagle had everyone looking up. Though this thick canopy barred the sky, Olivia used the moment to shift into an explanation of some of the birds and mammals found in the forest.
The man in the sunglasses bumped against her, gripped her arm. She jolted and had nearly shoved him away when she saw he’d tripped in a tangle of vine maple.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was barely a whisper, but his hand stayed on her arm. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“You didn’t. The vine maple’s been tripping up hikers for centuries. Are you all right? You look a little shaky.”
“I’m . . . You’re so . . .” His fingers trembled on her arm. “You’re very good at your job. I’m glad I came today.”
“Thank you. We want you to enjoy yourself. Do I know you?”
“No.” His hand slid down her arm, brushed lightly over the back of hers, then dropped away. “No, you don’t know me.”
“You look like someone. I can’t quite place it. Have you—”
“Miss! Oh, Miss MacBride, can you tell us what these are?”
“Yes, of course. Excuse me a minute.” She skirted over to a trio of women who huddled around a large sheet of dark red lichen. “It’s commonly called dog lichen. You can see—if you use your imagination—the illusion of dog’s teeth in the rows.”
The pressure was back, like a vise around her ribs. She caught herself rubbing her hand where the man’s fingers had brushed.
She knew him, she told herself. There was something . . . She turned around to look at him again. He was gone.
Heart pumping, she counted heads. Fifteen. She’d signed on for fifteen, and she had fifteen. But he’d been there, first at the edges of the group, then close in.
She walked over to Celia. “You’re wonderful,” Celia told her and gave her a brilliant smile. “I want to live right here, with dog lichen and Destroying Angels and licorice ferns. I can’t believe how much you know.”
“Sometimes I forget I’m supposed to entertain as well as educate and get too technical.”
Celia skimmed her gaze over the group. “Looks to me like everyone is well entertained.”
“I hope so. Did you happen to notice a tall man, short gray hair, sunglasses. Sunburned, good build. Mid-sixties, I guess.”
“Actually, I haven’t paid much attention to the people. I got caught up. Lose someone?”
“No, I . . . No,” she said more firmly. “He must have been out on his own and just joined in for a bit. It’s nothing.” But she rubbed the back of her hand again. “Nothing.”
When she got back to the Center, Olivia was pleased to see several members of her group had been interested enough to head to the book area. A good guided hike could generate nice sales of books.
“Why don’t I buy you lunch?” Celia asked.
“Thanks, but I really have work.” She caught the look, sighed a little. “You don’t have to worry. I’m going to be chained to my desk for quite a while. Then I have an interior lecture scheduled and another guided hike, then another lecture. The only place I’ll be alone until six o’clock is in my office.”
“What time’s the first lecture?”
“Three o’clock.”
“I’ll be here.”
“At this rate, I’ll have to offer you a job.”
Celia laughed, then gave Olivia’s shoulder a little squeeze. “It’s annoying, isn’t it, having people hovering.”
“Yes.” The minute she said it, she winced. “I’m sorry. That was rude. I didn’t mean—”
“I’d hate it, too,” Celia interrupted, then surprised Olivia by kissing her cheek. “We’ll get along very well, Liv. I promise. I’ll see you at three.”
Oddly amused, Olivia walked through the Center to the concession area and picked up a Coke and a box of raisins to fortify her through the paperwork on her desk.
She detoured, winding through each area on the way to her office. When she realized she was looking for the man with the sunburned face, she ordered herself to stop being an idiot.
She pulled off her cap, stuck it in her back pocket, then carried her snack to her office. As she stepped inside, she checked her watch to gauge her time.
Two paces from her desk, she froze. And stared at the single white rose lying across the blotter. The can of Coke slipped out of her hand and landed with a thud at her feet.
His face had changed. Twenty years—twenty years in prison had changed it. Somehow she’d known, but she hadn’t been prepared. Breathing shallowly she rubbed the hand he’d touched.
“Daddy. Oh God.”
He’d been so close. He’d touched her. He’d put his hand on her, and she hadn’t known who he was. She’d looked into his face and hadn’t known him.
All those years ago, with the security glass between them, Jamie had told him Olivia would never know him.
His daughter, and she’d given him the absent smile of one stranger to another.
He sat on a bench in deep shade, washed down pills with bottled water. Wiped the clammy sweat from his face with a handkerchief.
She would know him, he promised himself. Before another day passed, she would look at him and know him. Then it would be finished.
thirty-two
It irritated Noah that he couldn’t connect with Lucas Manning. Unavailable. Out of town. Incommunicado. He wanted a follow-up interview, and he wanted it soon.
Then there was Tanner himself.
Oh, they’d talk again all right, Noah thought as he pushed himself away from his laptop and paced to the window. He had a great deal to say to Sam Tanner. Maybe the son of a bitch thought the book would be a tool, perhaps even a weapon. But it was going to be neither.
When it was done, it would be the truth. And when it was done, if he had any skill, it would be a closing for Olivia.
The closing of that hideous part of her life and the opening of their life together.
She would be finished with her guided hike by now, he decided. And he could use a break from the book. So what was stopping him from going over to the Center? She might be a little annoyed, accuse him of checking up on her.
Well, that was somethi
ng she’d have to get used to. He intended to spend the next sixty years, give or take, making sure she was safe and happy.
He shut down his machine and walked downstairs through the empty house. The MacBrides were at the lodge, and he imagined his mother had nudged them into having a meal with her. Bless her heart.
He checked the doors before he left, making sure they were secured. And, as a cop’s son, just shook his head at the locks. Anyone who wanted in, he thought, would get in.
He’d learned that the hard way.
Following instinct, he detoured toward the garden, and casting one guilty look over his shoulder, plucked a handful of flowers to take to Olivia.
They’d make her smile, he thought, even as she pretended to be peeved that he’d stolen them from her grandfather.
He straightened quickly at the sound of a car and remembered he hadn’t thought to hook his knife onto his belt. The wavering sun glinted off chrome and glass, then cleared so that he recognized Jamie Melbourne at the wheel.
By the time he’d walked to the car, she’d shoved the door open and jumped out. “Are they all right? Is everyone all right?”
“Everyone’s fine.”
“Oh God.” She leaned weakly against the fender, dragged a hand through her hair. She wasn’t quite as polished as usual, he noted. Her makeup was sketchy, her eyes shadowed and her simple slacks and blouse travel-crushed.
“I—all the way up here, I imagined all sorts of things.” She dropped her hand, closed her eyes a moment. “My mother called me last night, told me. She said he’d been here. Inside the house.”
“It looks that way. Why don’t you sit down?”
“No, no, I’ve been sitting. On the plane, in the car. I couldn’t get here any sooner. She didn’t want me to come, but I had to. I had to be here.”
“No one’s seen him, at least not that I’ve heard. Liv’s at the Center, and your parents are at the lodge with mine.”
“Good. Okay.” She heaved out a long breath. “I’m not a hysterical person. I think once you’ve faced the worst and survived it, you cope with anything. But I came very, very close to losing it last night. David was in Chicago, and I couldn’t reach him for what seemed like hours. It probably wasn’t more than twenty minutes until my brain clicked back and I thought of his cell phone.”
Because she looked as if she needed it, Noah gave her a smile. “I love technology.”
“I sure had good thoughts about it last night. Nothing’s ever sounded so good as his voice. He’s on his way. Canceled the rest of his meetings. We all need to be together until . . .” Her eyes went dark. “Until what, Noah?”
“Until it’s over,” was all he said.
“Well, I’d better get my bag inside—and have a good, stiff drink.”
“I’ll get it for you.”
“No, it’s just a carry-on. God knows what I threw in it this morning. I probably have a cocktail dress and hiking boots in there. And, to be honest, I could use a few minutes on my own to pull it together.”
“I just locked up.” He pulled the key Rob had unearthed for him out of his pocket.
“I bet they haven’t done that more than half a dozen times since I was born.” She took the key, studied it. “How’s my mother holding up?”
“She’s tougher than you think. Maybe than she thought.”
“I hope you’re right,” Jamie murmured as she opened the trunk and pulled out a tote. “Well, I’ve got about six thousand calls to make to finish shifting my schedule around.” She slung the tote strap over her shoulder, then glanced at the flowers in Noah’s hand. “Going to see your girl.”
“That was the plan.”
“I like your plan. I think you’re good for her.” She studied his face. “You’re a sturdy one under it all, aren’t you, Noah Brady?”
“She’ll never have to worry if I’ll be there, never have to wonder if I love her.”
“That’s nice.” The fatigue seemed to lift from her eyes. “I know just how important that is. It’s funny, Julie wanted that—no, more than that—and I found it. I’m glad her daughter has, too.”
He waited until she was in the house, until she’d locked the door behind her. With his senses alert, he walked into the trees to follow the trail to the Center.
From the shadows he watched, turning the weapon in his hand. And weeping.
Olivia was dead calm, and she was damn well going to stay that way. For ten minutes after seeing the rose, she’d sat on the floor, shaking. But she hadn’t run. She’d fought back the panic, pulled herself to her feet.
She’d ordered herself to be calm and to act. As quietly as possible, she asked every member of the staff she could find if they’d noticed anyone going into her office. Each time the answer was no, and each time she followed it up by giving a description of her father, as she’d seen him that morning.
When she had all the answers she could gather, she walked outside and started toward the lodge.
“Hey!”
Her body wanted to jerk, and she forced it still. Then absorbed the flow of relief when she saw Noah coming across the parking lot toward her.
Normal, she promised herself. She would be normal.
“My grandfather’s going to scalp you for picking his prize lilies.”
“No, he won’t, because he’ll know I was swept away by romance.”
“You’re an idiot. Thank you.”
She gave him the smile he’d expected, but there was strain at the edges. “You need a break. Why don’t you get someone to fill in for you the rest of the day?”
“I need to do my job. It’s important to me. I was just about to go over and find Frank.” She glanced around. People were coming and going. In and out of the lodge, the Center, the forest. “Let’s sit down a minute.”
She led him around the side and to a bench in the deep shade where her father had sat a short time before.
“There’s another white rose. It was on my desk in my office.”
“Go inside the lodge.” Noah’s voice was cool. “I’ll look around.”
“No, wait. I questioned the staff. No one noticed anyone going into my office. But a couple of them did notice someone this morning when I was setting up the group out here. A tall man, short gray hair, sunburned. He wore dark glasses and a fielder’s cap, stiff new jeans and a blue long-sleeved shirt.” She pressed her lips together. “I noticed him, too, during the hike. He slipped into the group. I kept getting this feeling, this uneasiness, but I couldn’t pin it down. He spoke to me. He touched my hand. I didn’t recognize him. He’s changed, he looks old—years older than he should and . . . hard. But part of me knew. And when I saw the rose, his face was right there. My father.”
“What did he say to you, Liv?”
“It wasn’t anything important, just that I was good at my job, that he was glad he’d come. Funny, isn’t it, twenty years down the road and he compliments me on my work. I’m all right,” she said when Noah put his arm around her. “I’m okay. I always wondered what it would be like if I saw him again. It was nothing like I imagined. Noah, he didn’t look like a monster. He looked ill, and tired. How could he have done what he did, how could he be doing this now, and just look tired?”
“I doubt he knows the answer to that himself. Maybe he’s just caught up, Liv, in the then and the now. And he just can’t stop.”
He caught a movement, a bit of color, shifted his gaze. And watched Sam Tanner step out of the forest. Noah got to his feet, gripped a hand on Olivia’s arm to pull her up beside him.
“Go into the lodge, find my father. Then stay there.”
She saw him, too, just at the moment when he spotted them, when he stopped short on the far edge of the parking lot. They stared at each other in the windy silence, as they had once stared at each other across a bloody floor.
Then he turned and walked quickly toward the trees.
“Go find my father,” Noah repeated and in a quick movement, unsnapped her knife sheath from h
er belt. “Tell him what happened here. Then stay.” He turned, took her hard by the shoulders. “Do you hear me, Liv? You stay inside. With my mother. Call your aunt