Refuge Cove by Janet Dailey (8)

CHAPTER 8

The youth gave Emma a questioning look. Then his face lit in a grin. “Hey, I remember you. You were at the driver’s license place. I saw you filling out your application.”

“It’s nice to meet you, David.” Still stunned, Emma had to struggle for words. “I don’t remember seeing you. I guess I wasn’t looking up.”

“If I’d known we’d be working together, I’d have come over and said hi.” David seemed as open and friendly as his father was taciturn and reserved.

“I would’ve liked that,” Emma said, knowing better than to say more. This was no time to bring up her relationship with David’s father.

“So, are you ready to show me the ropes, Aunt Pearl?” David asked.

Emma must have looked startled because Pearl was quick to explain. “David’s stepfather, Carl, is my younger brother. I’ve known this boy since he was just a little sprout.”

“I’m not supposed to be working here because I’m under eighteen,” David said. “But Aunt Pearl promised to keep an eye on me, so here I am. Don’t tell anybody.”

“Don’t worry. My lips are sealed.” Emma gave him a smile as two customers walked in the door. “Meanwhile, it looks like time to get back to work.”

Business picked up toward evening. Emma and Pearl were kept busy running orders to the kitchen and back. David had broken a plate early on, but now he was learning fast, clearing the tables as soon as they were empty. Watching the boy, Emma caught glimpses of how John must’ve looked at that age—tall and gangly, his body still filling out, his hands big and long fingered. David would grow up to be a good man, she thought. A strong man, like his father.

Seen through the window, the last rays of the setting sun brushed the clouds with pewter and violet. Streetlights flickered on, glowing through the light mist that had crept in over the water.

By now, John would be winging home from his mail run. He would fly above the muskeg where he’d first found her, bank over the water, and glide into Refuge Cove. From there he would drive home to his cabin, light a fire, eat supper, and settle in for the night—a night she wouldn’t be there to share.

By closing time it was dark outside. Emma was wiping off the last table when a black Cadillac Escalade pulled up to the curb. The woman who climbed out and strode inside was strikingly tall, with a model’s figure and long, dark blond hair. She was fashionably dressed in tight jeans, high-heeled boots, and a short lambskin jacket.

Only when Pearl greeted her with “Hello, Marlena,” did Emma realize who stood before her. This woman was John’s ex-wife, David’s mother, and Boone’s sister.

It was hard not to stare. Marlena’s resemblance to Boone was unmistakable—the chiseled jaw and straight nose, the commanding blue eyes, the golden skin and hair. She had Boone’s lanky grace and a cool gaze that seemed to look through Emma without seeing her at all.

“Where’s David?” she asked Pearl. “I’m here to drive him home.”

“In the kitchen,” Pearl said. “He’ll be out in a minute. He did fine tonight. You’d have been proud of him.”

“I’d be prouder if he’d stay home and work on improving his grades. But now that he has his license, all he cares about is getting his own car. What about his future? I ask you. What about college?”

“You didn’t go to college,” Pearl said. “Neither did Carl, and he’s been a good provider for you and the boys.”

Marlena ran a manicured hand through her golden mane of hair. “Oh, I know. But I want something better for David. Maybe I’m afraid that if I don’t push him, he’ll end up a worthless drunk like his father.”

“John’s done all right for himself, Marlena. A pilot with his own plane—”

“Maybe so. But I remember how he used to drink when we were married. People don’t change. That’s why I never want him around David.”

The conversation ended abruptly when the kitchen door swung open and David walked out, wiping his hands on a towel. “Hi, Mom,” he said.

“It’s about time,” Marlena said. “Come on, you’ve got homework.”

“Okay,” David said. “But remember it’s a teacher training day at school tomorrow, so there’ll be no classes. Aunt Pearl said I could come in early tomorrow and pick up some extra hours.”

Marlena sighed and shook her head. “All right. But I wish you were saving your money for college instead of that blasted car.”

She left without saying good-bye, David trailing behind her. An awkward silence hung in the air as the big SUV pulled away. Emma turned back to wiping the table.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” Pearl said. “I know it was John who helped you and brought you here. Megan told me.”

“Do you know John?” Emma asked.

“Not well. But I hear a lot, working in this place. I know that John isn’t the man he used to be. He’s earned the respect of people in this town.”

“I talked to Judge Falconi. She told me how Marlena’s kept him from seeing David.”

“Marlena’s a good mother. But she’s very protective of David. I’ve never believed it was fair for John to be separated from the boy, but I know better than to say it to Marlena’s face.”

“What can I say? John literally saved my life. He’s a good man. And it’s plain he’s never gotten over losing his son.”

Pearl’s blue eyes narrowed. She shook her head. “If you’re thinking you might be able to change things, forget it, honey. It is what it is. Meddling will only stir up trouble and make things worse.”

“I understand.” Emma had finished wiping the table. She gathered up the cloth and the bottle of spray cleaner to take back to the kitchen.

“If you speak to John, don’t mention that David is here,” Pearl said. “Marlena’s done a number on the boy. He’s convinced that John is a worthless lowlife and will try to take advantage of him if given half a chance. Any meeting between the two would only end up hurting them both.”

After what she’d heard from Marlena, Emma could believe that. Pearl was right. Pushing John and his son together would only stir up trouble in the family. If there was a door to be opened, David would have to be the one to open it. Meanwhile, all she could do was wait and hope the right time would come.

Emma finished cleaning up, thanked Pearl again for her help, and went upstairs to her room. Dressed in John’s comfy oversized thermals, she crawled into bed and tried to unwind from the day by reading. But her troubled thoughts would not let her focus on her book.

All her life, she’d believed in being open and honest. But now she found herself drowning in secrets. She was keeping secrets from her employer, from Pearl, from Marlena, and from David. And now, she realized, she’d be keeping the most vital secret of all from John.

* * *

The mail run had taken longer than usual. Not that it mattered. This was Alaska, where life didn’t always run on the clock. Pleasantly tired, John taxied into Refuge Cove, secured the Beaver to the dock, and carried the mail pouch to the Jeep. He’d tried not to think about Emma during the long day. But as he drove to the post office, he couldn’t help wondering how she’d managed with her new job, and whether she’d seen or heard any sign of Boone.

After checking the mail pouch into the post office in Ward Cove, he turned the Jeep around and headed back up the highway, toward home. He was tempted to call Emma on her burner phone, before he lost service. But no, he’d already done what he could for her. She had a pistol, a safe place to stay, and plenty of access to help. It was time he stopped hovering over her like an overanxious parent.

A bank of fog had moved in from the narrows, spreading like a misty flood across the highway and into the forest. The night was eerily quiet— maybe too quiet. As he switched the lights to high beam and turned off the highway onto the logging road, John felt the hair prickle on the back of his neck—a sign he knew better than to ignore. Stopping the car, he drew his .44 pistol from the holster, where it lay on the seat beside him. With the heavy pistol cocked, and a round in the chamber, he drove on. If Boone, or anybody else, was waiting for him at the cabin, he would have to be ready.

Nearing the cabin, he switched off the headlights and climbed out of the vehicle. Here the fog was just moving in. Ghostly fingers of mist wove through the trees, but the night was clear enough for John to see his way. He moved like a shadow, gripping the pistol as he slipped from tree to tree.

His ears heard nothing but the familiar sounds of night. But the smell that reached his nostrils, faint but somehow familiar, raised a nauseous sensation in his throat. His gut tightened with a sense of dread.

He had almost reached the clearing when he saw what he’d been meant to see. A pale, lifeless form hung by a rope from the corner of the porch, drooping shoulders, dangling limbs, no visible head.

Driven by a sick panic, he plunged forward. Only then, as he got closer, did he realize what he was seeing.

It was the skinned carcass of the young bear.

* * *

The ringing cell phone woke Emma in the night. She grabbed it off the nightstand and took the call.

“Emma?” She could hear the strain in John’s voice. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I’m in my room. You woke me up.”

“Is your room locked? Both the key and the bolt?”

“Yes. I always do that in hotels. What’s wrong?”

“Is the window locked, the shade down?”

“Yes. For heaven’s sake, John, what is it? What’s happened?”

There was a beat of silence on the line. “Boone was at the cabin today, while I was gone. He wasn’t there tonight, but he left me a message.”

Emma felt the chill, as if an icy hand had run a finger up her back. She lowered her voice. “What kind of message?”

This time the pause was longer. “It was a dead animal. You don’t need to know more. It was pretty sick.” He took a breath. “Emma, the man’s not just dangerous. He’s crazy. Let me fly you out of here tomorrow. It’s the only way you’ll be safe.”

“My job—”

“You don’t need the damned job. You can get another one in Sitka. And when your credit cards get here, I can pick them up and drop them off to you on the mail run.”

Emma took a moment to think. John was making sense. She might be safer in Sitka. She could find another job. But how could she leave when she’d just met David? How could she abandon the only hope, however dim, of bringing John and his son together?

“What about you?” she asked, stalling for time. “Aren’t you in danger, too?”

“If Boone meant to hurt me, he’d have done it by now. What he wants is to get to you—and going through me is one way to do it. So what will it be? Will I have to drag you onto the plane to save your life?”

Emma braced for a storm. John wasn’t going to like her answer. “If Boone figures out that I’m in Sitka, there’s no reason he can’t get on a plane or boat and follow me there. I’m safer here, where the police can keep an eye out for him, and I have friends to protect me. Besides, I promised to stay at my job for two weeks. Hopefully, by then, this will all be over. Boone will be in jail, and I’ll have enough money for an airline ticket out of here.”

He muttered a curse. “Emma, you’ve got no idea—”

“I’ll be careful,” she said. “I’ll be fine. So let’s both get some sleep.”

He muttered something she couldn’t hear. “I’ll talk to you later,” he said, and ended the call.

* * *

John had driven back to the highway to get cell phone service. After his call to Emma he radioed the dispatchers for the police and state troopers and warned them to be on the lookout for Boone. Not that it would do much good. The bear carcass had been cold. Unless Boone had stayed around to watch John’s reaction, the bastard would be long gone by now.

He could only hope that Boone would keep to the family homestead and the backwoods, leaving Emma safe in town. Boone was clever, but John also knew him to be vain. He might not want to show himself in Ketchikan with that ugly burn down his once-handsome face. But there was no way to be sure of that. Boone could be as unpredictable as the path of a lightning bolt.

Still seething with frustration, he drove back up the logging road to the cabin. He’d done his best to talk Emma into leaving. But he might as well have been talking to a brick wall.

Maybe he should have told her what Boone had done to the bear—and it had been Boone, all right. He’d seen the fresh tracks around the cabin, and the blood where he’d gunned down that poor dumb bear and skinned it.

John had laid a plastic tarp under the carcass and cut it down from where it hung. When he got back to the cabin, he would drag it off into the trees, wrap it, and bury it. He could leave the job until morning, but he knew he wouldn’t rest until it was done.

At the cabin, he strapped on his shoulder holster to keep the pistol handy. There was always a chance that Boone would show up again, or that the scent of blood would draw more bears, or wolves, to investigate.

With the Jeep and cabin secure, he opened the garage, found a shovel and a pair of heavy rubber gloves, and went to work. The task ahead would be grueling and dirty, but it had to be done.

What would’ve happened if Emma had been here in the cabin, alone? Blocking the question from his mind, John pulled on the gloves, picked up the shovel, and went to work.

* * *

Emma had meant to sleep late, but the sounds of workers, revamping the rooms on her floor, woke her early. By the time she’d climbed out of bed, showered, dressed, and gone downstairs for the free breakfast of cereal, fruit, and toast, her shift was still more than two hours away.

John would want her to stay inside the hotel, but she’d spent too much time behind closed doors. She needed fresh air, sunshine, and room to stretch her legs. As long as she stayed in the open, with plenty of people around her, she should be perfectly safe.

Megan had given her the address of a good thrift shop and marked the location on a map of the town. Its distance from the hotel gave Emma a good excuse to try out the new bicycle.

With her money in her jeans, and her jacket, her phone, and the pistol in the backpack, she wheeled the bike out of the storage closet, through the front door, and across the street to the wide boardwalk that ran by the docks. She hadn’t ridden a bicycle since she was in college, but how hard could it be?

The bike’s smaller size was a perfect fit for her. She straddled the seat, gripped the handlebars, and took off pedaling. For the first few dozen yards her progress was wobbly. But soon her muscle memory took over, and she began to enjoy herself. By the time she headed uphill toward the thrift shop, she was riding like a carefree teenager.

The charity thrift shop had just opened. After an hour of browsing, Emma bought a waterproof down parka, a quilted vest, a pair of stretch pants, two nice sweaters, some socks, and a bra. She was tempted by a pair of barely worn boots, but those could wait for another visit. For now, it was all she could do to stuff all her purchases in her pack. She wouldn’t look glamorous like Marlena in her “new” clothes. But at least when the weather changed, as it was bound to, she’d be warm.

As she left the store, she glanced at the clock above the register. It was barely ten o’clock. Her shift didn’t start for another hour. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to go exploring a little on the bike. As long as she stayed where there was plenty of traffic, she’d be fine.

With the backpack strapped to her shoulders, she climbed on the bike and set off, headed south on the Tongass Highway, past the businesses that were strung along the road.

* * *

John was at Refuge Cove, servicing the Beaver after yesterday’s mail flight, when his cell phone rang. Hoping it might be Emma, he grabbed for it so fast that he almost dropped it in the water.

“Emma?”

The laugh on the other end chilled his blood. “So how did you like my little present, brother?”

“Can’t say I was impressed. That bear wasn’t half-grown and no meaner than a dog. It wouldn’t have taken much of a man to shoot it.”

“That little bearskin will be just right for makin’ me a new winter hat. But I’ll bet I scared you. I’ll bet for the first few seconds you thought it was her, hangin’ there. Lordy, I wish I could’ve seen your face.”

“You’re sick, Boone. I’d say you need help, but something tells me you’re long past that.”

“Where is she?” Boone’s voice had turned hard and mean. “I know she’s not with you because of how you answered the phone. But I’ll bet you know where she is.”

“She’s gone. She won’t be at the cabin anymore. So you can quit coming around.”

“Tell me where she is, and you’ll never see my face again.”

“Give it up, Boone. She’s gone for good. And if you show up looking for her, I’ll be seeing your ugly face behind bars.”

Boone laughed again. “Hell, I didn’t do anything to that little bitch except give her a thrill. And even if I’d committed a crime, you think I’m dumb enough to get caught? I’ve got eyes all over the place—friends, family, you name it. Any one of them spots her, and she’s mine for keeps. Maybe I’ll give her a real wedding this time, just to keep things nice and legal.”

The call ended with a laugh and a click, leaving John glaring down at the phone in mute fury. Was it true? Did Boone have other people watching for Emma—people who could snatch her off the sidewalk before she even had time to react?

Damn it, why had he assumed Boone would be acting alone in this? If what the bastard had said was true, Emma wouldn’t be safe anywhere in town, maybe not even in the hotel.

He needed to warn her. Maybe now she’d listen. Maybe now she’d agree to leave.

He brought up her cell number, called it, and held his breath as it rang. Pick up, damn it, Emma. Pick up. . . .

A chilling fear stole over him as the phone rang again, then again and again.

* * *

By the time she’d pedaled a mile along the shoulder of the road, Emma’s legs were getting tired. A cool wind had sprung up, the traffic had begun to thin out, and she was getting thirsty. The map she’d picked up at the hotel showed the highway going south, rounding a point, and changing to unpaved road that ended thirteen miles out of town. But she was not going to make it anywhere near that distance. It was time to turn around and go back the way she’d come.

A few minutes ago, she’d felt a slight vibration against her back. After the third or fourth time, she’d realized it was her phone, buried in her backpack beneath all the clothes she’d bought at the thrift store.

It was probably John, calling to check on her and lecture her about the need to leave town. Since she could hardly empty the pack on the roadside to get to the phone, there was nothing to do. She would have to call him back from the hotel.

After turning around, she pedaled back toward town. The distance seemed much longer now that she was getting tired. A hundred yards ahead, on the far side of the road, was a business that sold liquid propane, exchanging full tanks for empty ones. Emma had paid it scant attention when she’d passed it going the other way. Now she braked and skidded to a stop, her heart pounding in her throat.

Pulled up next to the door of the business was a camouflage-painted pickup truck. Even without the shell on the back, there could be no mistaking that sloppy spray job. It was Boone’s.

Two people, a man and a woman, stood outside the truck. From a distance, Emma could see that the woman was of medium height, stocky build, with gray hair knotted in a bun. The man was tall, even taller than Boone, with long, unkempt blond hair and a long, shaggy beard. Both of them were clad in baggy jeans and plaid lumberjack-style shirts. They had to be Boone’s mother and his brother, Ezra, in town from the homestead. So far, she could see no sign of Boone. Maybe he wasn’t with them. But he could have gone inside the building.

Emma waited, keeping her distance and wondering what to do next. There was no way she could get back to town without passing them. The sides of the highway were overgrown with thorny scrub. Leaving the road with the bike and cutting around through the trees would be next to impossible.

She could pedal past them, look the other way, and hope she wouldn’t be recognized. The pair had never met her. But Boone had probably shown them a photograph of his bride-to-be. She couldn’t take that chance, especially if they were looking for her—and especially if Boone happened to be with them, inside the building or even in the truck.

She could always wait for them to finish their business and leave. But if they were headed south, out of town, they would be driving right toward her. There had to be another way.

Suddenly Emma saw her chance. The mother and son were headed into the building, and now that they’d moved, she could see that the cab was empty. It was now or never.

Pumping with all her strength, she sped forward. She would pass the place on the opposite side, but the road was narrow. If seen, she could easily be recognized. How long would it take her to get a safe distance past the truck? Surely no more than seconds, but it was as if everything had fallen into slow motion, like a chase in a dream. Faster . . . she urged herself. Faster . . .

She was coming even with the truck. So far nobody had come back outside. She was going to make it. She was going to be all right.

Just then two shaggy heads popped up from the bed of the truck, followed at once by a chorus of baying, barking howls.

Boone’s dogs. They must’ve recognized her scent. Or maybe they just didn’t like cyclists.

Panic driven, she pumped harder. She could still hear the dogs. Even without looking back, she could tell that they’d jumped out of the truck and were coming after her. If they caught her, she wouldn’t have a chance against the big wolf hybrids. They would bring her down like a deer.

Her legs were getting rubbery, and her side had developed a painful stitch, and the dogs were gaining. The bike wobbled as powerful jaws caught the rear tire. If she threw down her backpack, would they attack it and let her get away? But why even wonder? Before she could get the pack off her shoulders the dogs would be all over her.

She pushed ahead, but the small bike wasn’t built for speed. Sharp teeth caught her pants leg—and then, like a miracle, came a sharp whistle and a string of curses from the direction of the truck. Abruptly, the dogs wheeled and trotted back the way they’d come.

Emma rode on, forcing her tired legs to push the pedals. She’d been well past the truck when the dogs caught up with her. With luck, the Swensons wouldn’t have seen her face. They wouldn’t have realized who she was.

Relief and exhaustion hit her like an earthquake. Too shaky to ride on, she pulled off the shoulder of the road to catch her breath. When she dared to glance behind her, she saw that the camouflaged truck was nowhere in sight.

And coming toward her, at breakneck speed, was a familiar tan Jeep.