46
As dawn faintly lit the eastern sky, the plane touched down…somewhere.
Kellen sat buckled into a seat as close to the cockpit as she could get. With her injured hand, she held a yellow oxygen mask over her face. With her uninjured hand, she clutched the arm of the chair. With every fiber of her being, she prayed.
All too clearly through the puncture in the fuselage, she could hear the squeal of the brakes, the roar of the reverse thrusters. She felt the pressure that slammed her against the seat and the skid and crash as the plane lurched to a halt, crooked in a ditch.
She looked out of the hole in the plane. Seven feet down, she could see asphalt. A two-lane road with a yellow dotted line down the middle. She could jump the distance.
She did.
She stumbled, fell onto her hands and knees. Sheer blinding pain from her hand made her rest her head on the cool pavement, but as the agony retreated, she lifted her head and laughed.
She had to. She was alive.
More than alive. She was free. The fears that had lurked within her had vanished. No, not vanished—been vanquished. By her. All those years, she’d been afraid of Gregory’s ghost. She’d been afraid of Gregory’s family. She’d been afraid that somehow, somewhere they would find her, that a wave of corrosive acid Lykke family craziness would crash over her and she would again be helpless, belittled, broken.
Well, Erin, cruel and crazy Erin, had found her. She had done everything to break Kellen. She had used the name Cecilia against her as if it was an insult. And today Kellen had discovered Cecilia was smarter, braver, funnier than she had ever imagined. It hadn’t really been Kellen who escaped from the horror of Gregory’s murder/suicide, survived the Philadelphia streets, saved a child, learned to love… It hadn’t really been Kellen who joined the Army, learned hand-to-hand combat, to carry a weapon, to fight in battles against an unseen enemy, to save her comrades from death, to be wounded and live.
Cecilia had stood alone and defeated Gregory’s ghost and the terror that tainted her days and nights.
Cecilia had become the person her cousin, Kellen, had wanted her to be. At long last, she was worthy of the sacrifice Kellen had made.
She looked around. The world was flat here, a great plain of prairie dotted with farmhouses surrounded by mountains and covered by a grand, wide sky. A breeze whipped up and brought a crackling sound and the scent of something burning. That brought her to her feet. Behind her, the plane’s wheel was buried in a roadside ditch, the plane’s wing pointed toward the vanishing northern stars…and smoke curled from the engine.
A quarter mile away, a man stood on the porch of a farmhouse, filming the scene with his phone. She walked toward him, staggering from pain and shock. When she got close, she looked up at him—he was still filming—and she asked, “Where are we?”
“Montana.”
“Can you call 911? Because there’s a pilot on that plane and the plane’s about to explode.”
* * *
She spent one day in a small Montana hospital while they stabilized her, gave her oxygen and ascertained the hairline fractures in her sternum would heal with much pain, but no lasting effects. She was transferred to a moderately sized Montana hospital with a skilled orthopedic surgeon, who operated on her shattered finger. Her cast reached to her elbow, her fingertips were the only things showing and they were bruised and swollen, and learning to do anything with her left hand made every waking moment a challenge and sometimes a humiliation.
While she was recovering, she heard from everyone—Annie and Leo, who reported the resort had survived, Mr. Gilfilen, who reported he had survived, Birdie, who reported she had survived and that Mr. Lennex was a very nice man. Sheri Jean, who was aggravated that not only was Mara a villain, but her absence left a gap in the guest services lineup and how was Sheri Jean supposed to deal with that? Temo, whose sister was settling in nicely, and Adrian, who assured Kellen that the son of a bitch who had wanted to sell Regina had been shown a cliff that plunged into the ocean but had been allowed to limp away.
Nils Brooks did not call, but he did message to let her know Mara Philippi, aka the Librarian, was in federal custody without incident.
Max sent flowers but no word. After that kiss…well, she didn’t know what she wanted from him. She only knew they would have to talk and decisions would have to be made. Yes, she’d loved him once, but she’d made a new life apart from Max. Things had happened to her. No doubt things had happened to him. Could they find a neutral meeting ground? Did they even want to?
* * *
Now, two weeks later, the plane landed on the Yearning Sands airstrip and skidded toward the ocean. Just like the first time, it stopped short. The pilot lowered the stairs and Kellen limped her way out into a rare sunny day. The cold wind took her breath away, and clouds ripped across the sky, tearing like tissue paper.
A town car waited; Kellen slid inside the front passenger seat and smiled at the chauffeur. Wrapping her arms around Birdie’s neck, she hugged cautiously and was cautiously hugged in return. “They sent you.”
“I volunteered.”
Kellen teared up. Mitch had betrayed them. Mara had proved to be a killer. Birdie… Birdie was tried-and-true. “How do you feel?” Kellen asked.
“Pretty good.” She turned to show Kellen a face still disfigured with bruises and stitches and a droop that was possibly nerve damage. “I’m disillusioned about Mitch, but life can do that.”
“Tell me about it.” The week in the Montana hospital had returned Kellen to the most fragile of health, but Kellen didn’t care—she was alive. They were alive.
Birdie put the car in gear and started toward the resort.
Kellen turned on the seat heater, struggled out of her winter coat and settled back to watch the road as it wound through groves and over hills toward the resort. “I heard from Nils.”
“Which is more than we have,” Birdie said in exasperation. “When the government took Mara away, he disappeared in a hurry.”
“He’s got a job. An important job.” All Kellen’s doubts had been set at rest. Nils Brooks really was MFAA. “He said she’s in custody.”
Birdie hesitated. “I hope so. I hope she doesn’t escape. I don’t know why I think she can, but I do, and I’m more afraid of her than I ever was of anyone in Afghanistan.”
Kellen put her hand on Birdie’s shoulder. “I know. I used to think that gleam in her eyes was competitiveness. Now I think it’s ego and rabid lunacy.”
“Did you hear when the Feds went into her cottage to search for evidence, her bedroom closet was locked, and when they got it open, it was full of books?” Birdie glanced at Kellen. “I mean—books. First editions, autographed editions and part of a genuine Gutenberg Bible. The stash is worth millions.”
“She was illiterate and locked her books in a closet? Isn’t that symbolic?”
“And—” Birdie looked vaguely ill.
“What else?”
“Hands. Mummified.”
“Birdie.” Kellen pressed her back against the seat as if trying to get away from the vision. “That’s…”
“Yeah. It is.” Birdie took a breath. “There’s speculation she used a dehydrator.”
Kellen leaped to a horrifying conclusion. “Not a dehydrator in our kitchens!”
“No! At least, the chefs said no, but they’re buying new ones.”
“Ugh.” Kellen could only imagine the chefs tossing the resort’s commercial-sized dehydrators out the windows. “Mara is all things twisted and warped. Does anybody know who she really is?”
“You mean her background? No. She just appeared out of nowhere.”
Like me. Kellen shrugged the thought away. “She corrupted Mitch. I swear he was our man until she got her claws in him.”
The car swerved as Birdie half turned toward Kellen. “You can’t blame her for Mitch!”
“I guess not. I just feel less stupid about trusting him if I have her to blame.”
“He tried to kill us. He almost succeeded. For money and maybe for sex with her? I feel for his family, but he hurt me and he hurt you. He was responsible for his actions, and I don’t mourn him.” Birdie was angry, vehement.
“Okay. You don’t have to.” As badly as Birdie had been injured, Kellen didn’t blame her a bit.
Birdie asked, “Guess what else? Guess what washed in on the beach the day after they took Mara away?”
“If you tell me more artifacts, I’ll tell you I don’t give a damn.”
Birdie grinned and shook her head. “Guess again.”
“My God.” This time Kellen knew she had guessed right. “Priscilla’s body?”
“In the plastic container,” Birdie affirmed. “She didn’t have any family, so she’s buried in the Cape Charade cemetery. Annie and Leo paid for the gravestone. We all chipped in for some nice flowers. She deserved that.”
“What about her ring?”
“We put that in the coffin with her.”
“Good. Good. I hope she knows the good she did by stashing that ring in her shoe. I’m glad she’s at rest, and I hope she’s at peace.”
“Amen,” Birdie said.
They fell silent. The miles rolled past. Kellen kept stumbling on the memories she had recovered along the way. Nils was gone from the resort. Maybe Max was gone, too? But she didn’t want to ask—it revealed more than she wanted, so instead she said, “Are Annie and Leo back?”
“Got here last week.” Birdie was a little too terse.
“They’re upset?”
“What do you think? It’s Annie’s resort. She feels like she left it to be destroyed.” Birdie glanced at Kellen. “You saved it.”
“You saved it, too.”
“Leo says I have a job for the rest of my life. I’d be more flattered if I thought they could ever find someone to take my place.”
Kellen chuckled. “You’re irreplaceable. But should you be back on the job? You look tired and as if you’re in pain.”
“Other than driving you to the resort, I’m not doing much. As soon as all the kinks have been worked out, I’m going on vacation someplace warm.”
“I thought we were going on vacation together.” Then, “What kinks?”
Birdie drove carefully around the curves. “Things are changing at the resort, you know. Mr. Gilfilen’s injuries have left him with limited mobility, so he can’t manage security anymore. A replacement must be found.”
Kellen had already thought of this. “I’ll do it. I’d rather be in charge of security than be broadsided by another management crisis involving a missing shipment of nail polish with a name like Orgasm.”
Birdie made a doubtful sound. “When all is said and done, I don’t know that you as the head of security is such a good idea.”
Kellen’s attention swerved toward Birdie. “When what’s said and done?”
Something was out of whack in this conversation. Birdie kept glancing at Kellen, smiling and frowning, then smiling again, and every once in a while, she shook her head.
It must have to do with Max. Taking the bull by the horns, Kellen asked, “Where’s Max? Is he still here? Is he going to take over security?”
“Max is at the resort. No, I don’t think he’s considered a permanent position at Yearning Sands.”
“Oh. Well, that would be too much to…” Kellen caught her first glimpse of Yearning Sands, of the stone castle-like edifice that grew out of the sand and scrub, that faced storms and murders, that had accepted the passage of time with such grace. Home. Kellen’s friends were here, and here she felt at home.
She was glad to be home.
“I knew Max before.” Saying the words made Kellen feel light-headed.
“I know,” Birdie said.
“He…told you?”
“It was a surprise.”
“Does everybody know?”
“Pretty much. Kind of.” Birdie verbally squirmed. “Yes. But he didn’t blab anything! Things just…got around.”
Kellen’s return got more complicated all the time. “When I knew Max before,” she said again, “he lived on the East Coast. I did a little more research on him—” very little, looking him up online made her feel like a Peeping Tom “—and now he lives in Oregon full-time.”
“That’s not too far. That’ll make things easier.”
That was odd. “What things?”
Birdie tried to say something. Tried again.
“What’s happening?” Kellen persisted.
In a voice vibrant with worry and encouragement, Birdie said, “Sweetheart. Your life is about to change.”