Chapter Two
Ryan Alexander pulled his Jeep up to the row of three mailboxes at the end of the paved road and leaned out the open window to flip down the door to the one on the far left. Grabbing his mail, he dropped the stack on the empty passenger seat, then swung his vehicle around to bump down the winding dirt track that served as his driveway. After half a mile of jolting through the thick pine forest, he entered the clearing in front of his cabin, set the brake, and sat for a moment to enjoy the view. The Three Sisters rose in majestic splendor to the southwest, white-capped after a cold snap and accompanying storm that had rolled through a few days before. Since moving to Central Oregon, he never tired of the panoramic vista.
Whistling beneath his breath, he scooped up the envelopes, then stepped out of his Jeep and turned to lift the bag of climbing gear off the back seat before he headed up the stone walkway to the house. Entering through the mudroom, he pulled off his boots and placed them on the shoe rack, then took the time to empty the bag and hang the harness and ropes on their respective pegs. He carried his mail into the kitchen and went straight to the sink to pour a glass of water before dropping onto a stool to check his phone for missed calls. One from his mom and another from Ursula. He listened to the first message.
“Ryan, why aren’t you answering? You better not be screening your own mother. Give me a ring when you have a chance.”
A glance at his watch told him he had exactly thirty-seven minutes before he needed to leave to meet Ursula for their date. Plenty of time still to shower and change. He pushed the button to return his mother’s call.
“Ryan, I’m so glad you got back to me.” His mom’s ever cheerful voice filled his ear.
He turned on the speaker and laid the cell on the counter as he sorted through bills and junk mail. “How are you, Mom?”
“Terrific. I’ve been going to that new spin class, which is where I heard about the time-capsule party. Are you coming home for your reunion?”
His brows knit. “What the heck are you talking about?”
“Didn’t you get an invitation?”
He set the power bill to the side as his hand stilled over a plain white envelope stamped with a return address from the Siren Cove Elementary Reunion Committee. “Hold on. It’s in today’s mail.” He lifted the flap, pulled out a square white card with gold print, and scanned the contents. “Interesting.”
“Won’t it be fun to see your old classmates? And there’s the added benefit of getting to spend time with your mother.”
He smiled. “I don’t need an excuse for that, but I was planning to schedule a Crossroads board meeting for the middle of October, which means I’ll be in Portland over that weekend.”
“Can’t you choose a different date?”
“There really isn’t anyone in particular I care about seeing, and I’m dead certain nothing in that time capsule is worth remembering.”
“Oh, come on. You’ll have a blast. When’s the last time you talked to Leah? She and Paige and Nina organized the reunion.”
An indrawn breath couldn’t fill the sudden hollowness in his chest. “It’s been a few years since we bumped into each other.”
“She’s divorced, you know.”
He dropped the invitation on the counter. “I’m aware her marriage to Brock imploded. Not that it matters to me, personally.”
“Well, I hope you’ll at least consider coming to the reunion.”
“Fine, but right now I have to go. I’m meeting a friend for dinner, and I don’t want to be late.”
“A date?” Her tone brightened. “I won’t keep you, then. Have fun this evening.”
“Thanks, Mom. Bye.” He disconnected, then leaned an elbow on the counter as visions of Leah intruded. Her head thrown back and brown eyes soft with humor as she laughed at something silly and totally irrelevant. Holding her hand firmly in his as they strolled down the beach. Her voice choked with tears when she told him they had to break up . . . He let out a sigh. Ancient history.
He lifted the phone and tapped it to listen to Ursula’s message.
“Ryan, I’m running late. A work glitch. I’ll meet you at seven instead of six thirty. Sorry for the short notice.”
At least she’d had the courtesy to call.
He slid off the stool and headed through the main room, then up the stairs to his loft bedroom. Charlie stretched, muscles flexing beneath thick gray fur before he opened golden eyes a slit and let out a ragged purr.
“You know you aren’t supposed to be on my bed.”
The cat’s only response was a sleepy blink.
Ignoring Charlie’s bad behavior, Ryan headed into the bathroom for a quick shower, his mind still on the reunion invitation. After washing off the dirt and sweat from a tricky climb at Smith Rock State Park, he stepped out onto the mat and grabbed a towel off the rack to rub across his chest. A glance in the mirror reassured him he wasn’t still that too-skinny, too-smart boy the kids had teased. He had years of life experience . . . and the battle wounds to prove it. A jagged incision across his forearm from a nasty climbing fall a couple years before. Scar tissue on his side where he’d taken most of the skin off sliding down a rough rock wall. Not to mention the tiny lines at the corners of his eyes from staring at code on a computer screen for hours on end. He’d finally ditched his glasses for contacts after breaking too many pairs to count.
Giving his head a shake, he hung the towel on the rack, then stepped into his closet to pull out a polo shirt and khaki slacks. Five minutes later, he was dressed, had brushed the fur off his bed, fed the cat, and was ready to leave.
A fifteen-minute drive into Sisters brought him to the restaurant a few minutes early. Ryan locked the Jeep with the remote as he crossed the lot to enter the brightly lit foyer. He smiled at the hostess and asked for a table for two. He’d only been seated long enough to scan the wine list when Ursula entered and glanced in his direction. She spoke to the hostess then headed his way.
Standing, he pulled out her chair. “You look terrific this evening.”
Ursula made the most of her assets, wearing sleek, professional clothing that suited her tall, slim build. As usual, she’d confined her unruly red curls in a knot at the back of her head. She commuted daily to her law offices in Bend and only let down her hair—literally and figuratively—on the weekends. Ryan had nothing but respect for her drive and ambition. He’d been the same way not so long ago. Before he got lucky with Crossroads.
“Crazy day at work.” She picked up her menu. “Did you order drinks yet?”
“I haven’t had a chance. Shall we choose a bottle of wine?”
“Sure.”
He let her make the decision, and only gave his menu cursory attention before ordering a steak with a side Caesar salad. She chatted about her current cases, stopping short of revealing confidential information, while they sipped merlot and ate crusty rolls. He nodded and made an occasional comment, but his thoughts bounced between the climb he wanted to tackle over the weekend, the new code for a website app, and the damn time-capsule reunion he had no interest in attending.
After the server delivered their meals, he took a deep sniff and smiled. “Smells good.”
Ursula set down the fork she’d picked up and frowned. “Have you listened to one word I’ve said?”
He jerked his attention back to his dinner partner. “Yes, of course. Something about a witness refusing to cooperate.”
“I mentioned that ten minutes ago. What’s on your mind?”
Ryan added sour cream to his potato. “Not much.”
“Really?”
“Okay, a challenging code issue, an all-day climb I want to make on Saturday, and the possibility of a trip back to Siren Cove for a grade school reunion.”
“Doesn’t sound like nothing to me.” She folded her napkin into precise squares. “But, if I hadn’t forced the issue, you wouldn’t have mentioned any of those activities, which are obviously important enough to occupy the majority of your attention.”
“I didn’t think you’d be interested, since you don’t climb and have admitted computer technology makes you crazy.”
“Still, they matter to you.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’ve about had it, Ryan.”
“Huh?” For the first time all evening, she had his full attention. “What’s wrong?”
“Our relationship.” She took a bite of her chicken and chewed furiously. “We’ve been dating exclusively for six months, and I barely know any more about you than I did after our first few weeks together. Except for griping about the way your ex-partner screwed you over, you don’t share your personal feelings. Emotionally, you’re unavailable.”
His stomach clenched, and suddenly his steak smelled less than appetizing. “You want me to complain more? Seems like I bitched plenty about Jay’s Judas move.”
“I want you to want to open up. And not just about work. You mentioned going home. Did it cross your mind to ask me to come with you? Six months of dating, and I’ve never met your mother.”
The knot tightened. “I guess you could come along, but—”
She held up a hand. “You didn’t think I’d be interested.” Her tone was edged with irritation. “Of course, you wouldn’t want to come with me if our positions were reversed. When I asked you to spend Labor Day weekend with my family, your eyes practically glazed over.”
Were my feelings that obvious? He cleared his throat. “I really enjoy hanging out with you, but I’ll be the first to admit I’m slow to take down my barriers in any relationship, personal or professional. Once burned and all that. To me, adding family to the mix is a big step.”
“After half a year, you don’t trust me enough to meet your mother?” She shook her head. “I’ve been trying to ignore the obvious, but I don’t think I can anymore.”
He was afraid to ask. Maybe Ursula didn’t stir strong emotions, but she was great company. Smart. Attractive. If he stayed on the defensive, she couldn’t take advantage of his unsuspecting nature the way Jay had. As far as he was concerned, a casual romance was close to perfect. For the first time, it occurred to him he might be the only one in this relationship who felt that way.
Time to face the inevitable. “What are you saying?”
“I think it would be in both our best interests to part ways. No animosity. No tears.” She wadded her napkin and pushed back her chair. “Not many, anyway. Better to end things now before I let myself fall completely in love with you.”
“Ursula—”
She rose to her feet and held up a hand. “Don’t.” Her voice cracked. “Just don’t.”
He pressed his lips tight as she hurried across the restaurant. The front door closed with a thump. After a moment he pushed his plate away, then rubbed his temples where a tension headache had taken hold.
“Would you like me to box those dinners for you, Mr. Alexander?”
He glanced up as the pretty young server stopped at his side and gave him a sympathetic smile. “I suppose so. Maybe I’ll be hungry later.”
She took the two plates and left the bill on the table.
Ryan pulled out his wallet and removed several twenties. A few of the other diners cast curious looks his way and whispered. His cheeks heated as he corked the wine bottle and waited for the server to return with his to-go boxes. When she finally approached with a bulging plastic bag, he practically leapt from his chair to take it from her. “Thank you.”
She smiled. “I’ll get your change.”
“No need. Have a good evening.”
“You, too.”
Not very likely.
The cool breeze rushed over him as he stepped outside, tempering his embarrassment. In the parking lot, he paused beside his Jeep to release some of his pent-up frustration. Dumped again. Okay, maybe the breakup wasn’t all Ursula’s fault. Maybe he wasn’t the most emotionally available guy around. Didn’t mean her rejection wasn’t still a sharp stab to the gut.
Ryan opened the car door, slid onto the seat and set down his to-go bag, then started the Jeep. Rolling down the windows, he let the cold wind blow out the conflicting emotions flitting around in his head. An irrational mix of anger and irritation—with himself and Ursula. Regret that he’d hurt a woman he genuinely liked. Loneliness he was used to, but this time it came with a surprising hint of relief. The scent of pine along with a touch of moisture in the air soothed his taunt nerves as he drove. By the time he reached his house, he was almost able to convince himself the breakup was for the best. Almost. After unlocking the door, he slammed it shut behind him and jumped when Charlie twined around his ankles.
He bent to stroke the cat’s sleek back. What did he need with a woman when he had a cat for companionship? Wandering into the kitchen, he flipped on a light, set the wine bottle and to-go bag on the granite countertop, then braced his hands on the kitchen sink to stare out into the darkness.
His career was currently on the fast track to unimaginable wealth. He could hardly fathom the popularity Crossroads had achieved in just a few short years, but now that he could slow down and enjoy his success, he had no one with whom to share it. He turned abruptly to pull a wineglass down from the cupboard. After uncorking the half-full bottle and pouring a glass, he took a fork and knife from the drawer and yanked his to-go box out of the bag. Good thing he liked cold steak.
As he ate, Ryan’s gaze landed on the reunion invitation, and he picked up the card to tap it on the counter. Should I go to the reunion?
He shook his head, dropped the invitation, and returned his attention to the steak. Screw that. He had no desire to parade his success in front of his old classmates . . . or stir up complicated feelings he’d long since put to rest. He didn’t need that kind of aggravation when—
A gagging sound interrupted his morose thoughts.
Ryan turned on the stool just as Charlie coughed up a huge hairball on the hardwood floor, gagged for a few seconds more, then lifted his head to saunter away.
The perfect ending to a shitty evening. Story of my life.
* * *
He counted ten steps out from the cafeteria door, shortening his stride to allow for the smaller stature of a ten-year-old girl, and stopped to pull on a pair of leather work gloves. This was the place. He distinctly remembered the class electing Leah Grayson to do the honor of choosing the exact spot where the time capsule would be buried. Everyone had liked Leah, who was nice to even the nastiest kids. Kneeling in the dark with only faint moonlight to illuminate the brick pavers, he inserted the crowbar between the cracks and wrenched up the first brick. By the time he’d pulled up a half dozen, he was sweating.
Goddamn women and their stupid idea to open the box after a measly twenty years. He’d figured the truth was safely buried until well after he was dead and oblivious to the fallout. With the two out-of-town detectives nosing around back then—not to mention the panicked look he’d intercepted—he’d been pressed to make a quick decision. The time capsule had seemed like the ideal place to hide evidence that would shock this picture-perfect community. Untainted on the surface, Siren Cove was darker at the core than the good citizens could ever imagine.
The crowbar hit the ground with a clatter. He picked up the shovel and stabbed the metal tip into the dirt. Again and again and again. After digging a good two feet, he straightened and frowned. He should have uncovered the box by now. Was his pacing off, or had he walked out at the wrong angle?
Two hours later, he’d dug up half the area beneath the patio and still hadn’t found the damn box. To the east, a hint of dawn colored the night sky.
Shit. He couldn’t keep digging and risk getting caught. As it was, news that a vandal had damaged school property was sure to be a hot topic of conversation the second his unproductive excavation site was discovered. Maybe they’d blame a giant gopher.
The spark of amusement faded. No way could he conceal his futile night’s work the way he’d originally intended. Not that it mattered much, since the box obviously wasn’t under the bricks anymore. The stupid women planning the reunion would be disappointed when they failed to find their hidden fifth-grade treasures. Relief filled him, but only for a moment. He bent to pick up his tools, and after a final glance back at the mounds of dirt and stacks of pavers, hurried around the school toward the parking lot.
If the time capsule wasn’t where they’d buried it, where the hell was it? More importantly, who had it now? Maybe the work crew who’d laid the patio had found the box and tossed it in a dumpster fifteen years ago. He could only cross his fingers and pray the roll of film he’d slipped inside at the last second was lost forever.