“That’s right.” Which is probably why you dreamed about them. “Tomorrow we’ll find out if one of them opens into your room. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“No matter what we find, we’re going to move you to the bedroom right across the hall. You need to be close to your daddy and me.”
“Yes, please.” In a very small voice, Rae asked, “Do you think Grandma is okay?”
Until Kellen came into their lives, Verona had been Rae’s primary maternal influence. They had had time apart, of course, but not like this; not where Rae couldn’t speak with her every day.
“I’m sure she is. She’s going to Italy with Aunt Irene and Cousin Annabella, and you know how much she enjoys visiting the relatives.”
“She’ll be safe there?”
So no matter how hard Max and Kellen had tried to keep the truth from Rae, she had caught the echoes of their fears. “Your grandma describes your relatives in Northern Italy as tough, smart, mean, suspicious and with the kindest hearts…once they know you. She absolutely will be safe there.”
“Okay.”
“Can we go to sleep now?”
“Okay.”
Kellen held Rae until the child went limp in slumber, then slowly she pulled her arm out from under Rae’s neck and massaged her numb hand.
Max scooted up behind her. “Is your arm asleep?” He sounded alert. So he’d heard the whole thing.
“Rae’s not a lightweight anymore. She’s getting to be a young woman, and Max, she knows there’s something wrong.”
“I know.”
Kellen rolled tightly against him. “I think we should tell her the whole truth.”
“I don’t think it would help. Here she can run around and still be safe. I don’t want her to be afraid.”
“She’s already afraid. She heard about the murder at the mortuary.”
“I understand that, but what good would it do to tell her about Mara? Kellen.” Max wrapped his arm around her. “She worries about you. If we tell her what Mara said—”
“Yeah. Right. It would blow all her circuits.” Which was true. “But I still feel guilty for not bringing Rae into the operation.” Which was also true.
“You have to stop thinking of Rae as a soldier. She’s not. She’s a child.”
Kellen remembered the children she had seen in Afghanistan, holding rifles, fighting in wars so old their distant great-grandparents had started them. She didn’t want that for Rae. “Right. You’re right. But Max, no matter how much we try to protect Rae, this disruption to her routine has really sent her into a tailspin.”
“This mansion and Ruby’s story are fuel for her imagination.”
“She knows about Mara’s grisly visit to the mortuary.”
“I wish we’d taken her phone sooner.” Max sounded savage.
“No, Max. She has to know what her friends know. But while this trip might be fraught, it’s not all bad.” Kellen cuddled with him. “Do you know what happened before dinner?”
“I cannot imagine.”
Kellen smiled into the darkness. “Rae wanted to know more about World War II. So I said, ‘The library,’ and we went there. You’ll never guess what we found.”
“A book on World War II?”
“The Encyclopedia Britannica, 1953 edition.”
His shoulder twitched under her head. “The Encyclopedia. Sure. Why didn’t I think of that? Did you show her how to look stuff up?”
“I did. She read about World War II, then she asked if I realized there’d been a world war before that, then she read about worms…”
He chuckled, warm and deep. “I used to do that. Look one thing up, then keep going. Living here is like being forced to return to, I don’t know, 1953.”
“I suppose that’s not bad except—” she hated to break the mood, but she had to ask “—do you suppose we’ve permanently lost Mara?”
“The report your Diana sent says she’s closing in on her.”
“She thought that last week, too. Is Mara playing her?”
Max helplessly lifted his hands. “I wish I knew. But what I do know is—if Mara dares come back to the US, she’ll be arrested and returned to prison. If she stays in Europe, she’ll be arrested by Interpol, returned to the US and returned to prison. We’re as safe here as it’s possible to be, so let’s hope for the best, expect the worst, and stick close to each other.”
Luna crawled a few inches closer to the head of the bed.
Kellen said ruefully, “I don’t know that we have much choice.”
12
Five weeks later…
A thorough search had found no secret passage in Rae’s pink bedroom, but Max and Kellen moved her into a smaller room—pale yellow, closer to them—amid reassurances Rae was welcome in their bedroom anytime.
That wasn’t strictly true, but like all parents they were very careful when and where they celebrated their union, and the need to be vigilant and discreet made them all the more frantic when they came together.
A locked bathroom door and a shared steamy shower proved to be a good solution.
Max did express frustration about the constant need for speed, and promised that when this was over and they left Isla Paraíso, they would go on their long-delayed honeymoon and spend long, slow, heated hours in bed…
The same day Max made his promise, Kellen began a regular program of running and kickboxing. Not only did she need a way to redirect her sudden thirsty desire for leisurely sex, but as she worked out, she rediscovered the pure pleasure of movement. She jogged, sprinted, punched and kicked. Something nagged in the back of her mind, some instinct burned in her gut. She needed to prepare, to train. The five weeks had been paradise in so many ways. Yet if Mara continued to slip past Kellen’s Army friend and all the law enforcement agencies…
Impossible! Yet Mara’s threat cast a long shadow, and being fit gave Kellen confidence in her ability to handle…anything.
Also, it beat practicing the piano—which Rae insisted she do every day. The dog still howled, but Kellen was getting better, more in control of her dexterity.
Rae romped with Luna in the house and on the lawn, devoured every book in the library—the encyclopedia had been a special pleasure—and with her dad, she worked on the truck. For the most part, she was the wonderful child she had always been.
But once she had thrown a tantrum about missing her grandmother—totally justified, for in her life, they’d never been separated before for more than two weeks—and once because someone had stolen her favorite drinking glass…which she’d left on a table in the library.
Puberty was difficult, Kellen told Max.
Patience, Kellen told Max.
And, with a grin, Kellen told Max, “She reminds me of my cousin Kellen Rae. My cousin was smart, confident, impatient and brave. Celebrate the fact Rae takes after her. She’s always going to be a leader.”
The Di Lucas discovered that Luna, who could run forever, had a weakness. The grasses and thistles stuck in her tender paws. So much to the dog’s distress, she was frequently sidelined, locked in the house, while Rae bicycled far and wide across the island. Luna made her displeasure at being left behind clear; she hid in the closets or the corners, in unused rooms and the far reaches of the house. They had to find her, coax her, show her their love until she deigned to come out and be her usual cheerful self.
Interestingly enough, Max seemed to be having more trouble adjusting to life on Isla Paraíso than either Kellen or Rae. He had been in charge of so much of the Di Luca businesses for so long, the lack of responsibility made him twitchy. He had even been known to sit at night in the library and listen to Kellen read Ruby’s diary. Luckily, the Ford F-100 did not run, and somehow, somewhere in his past, he’d wanted an old pickup to fix up. As a distraction, Kellen judged the F-100 to be a godsend.
&nbs
p; All in all, Kellen believed that, as a family, they were doing pretty well. Having all the time in the world had had an odd effect; without structure they constructed their lives along their needs and preferences.
I’ll take everything from her, the way she took everything from me. I’ll make her sorry she betrayed me.
Yet the memory of Mara’s threat cut into Kellen like a wound that threatened to turn gangrenous.
Today, as the sun rose, she ran the narrow path south and downhill, through the waving grasses, east on the winding track through the deeply shaded redwoods. The massive trees muffled the sounds of the waves, and the silence here was old and watchful, as if a soul lived in each redwood, and each soul had seen too much of change and sorrow. She was glad to turn east into the bright sunlight toward the Conkles’ cottage, but when she saw Jamie working in the yard, she veered off.
JAMIE CONKLE:
FEMALE OF COLOR, 32YO, 5'7", 125 LBS. BEAUTIFUL, BUT—BLACK HAIR AND DARK, RESENTFUL EYES BEHIND NARROW BLACK-FRAMED GLASSES. PERPETUAL WARDROBE: LONG SLEEVELESS DRESS THAT SHOWS OFF ARMS SCULPTED BY DAILY SHOVEL AND HAMMER LABOR, AND SNEAKERS WITH SOCKS. LIVING HER DREAM, BUT NEVER HAPPY, AS IF REALITY COULD NEVER COMPETE WITH THE SHANGRI-LA OF HER IDEAL WORLD.
In the first week on the island, Rae had begged to visit Jamie. She didn’t believe Jamie wouldn’t like her. So Kellen and Rae had biked to the small house carrying the gift of one of Olympia’s pound cakes wrapped in a bow.
Jamie had met them at the door, pointed out that baking such a frivolous cake used precious energy better preserved for future generations. When she saw Luna, she informed them the dog might kill the rare fowl in the area and should be kept penned.
Kellen and Rae had retreated.
Five weeks later, Kellen had occasionally seen Jamie bringing the food basket to Olympia, and once she’d caught a glimpse of someone who looked like her on the second floor of the mansion. But when Kellen called her, Jamie had rounded a corner and vanished. Into a secret passage, Kellen supposed. But why would Jamie be inside and upstairs? When she visited to ask, Jamie explained in contemptuous tones that with so many people now living in the mansion, someone had to check the condition of the water tower on the roof. She managed to make it sound as if Kellen had deliberately made work for her, and when Kellen offered to take over that duty, Jamie had brusquely dismissed her.
Odd. The woman was just odd.
Dylan, when intoxicated, was far too friendly. And he was always intoxicated.
At the low end of the island, Kellen passed the dock where the SkinnySail was moored. She slowed, then stopped. Arm raised, she held her hat firmly on her head, protecting it from the constant breeze, and smiled at the memories.
Max wrapped his arms around Kellen’s shoulders and pointed at the SkinnySail, waiting at the waterline. “Isn’t she a beauty? Want to go out with me? I can teach you to sail.”
Kellen knew nothing about boats or boating; she left that for Max and other enthused family members. To her eyes, this boat was small, sleek, with a mast and a motor. What the motor said to her was, Sailing doesn’t always work and sometimes you have to be saved. “No, that’s fine. You teach Rae. I’ll stay on the beach and read.”
“It’s big enough for the three of us.”
“If one of us wasn’t a former football player, maybe. You weigh a ton! Add me and Rae and the whole thing will founder.”
“Maybe. Then it’s time for swimming lessons.” He laughed at Kellen’s expression, kissed her on the mouth and then yelled, “Come on, Rae, let’s sail!”
Before he finished speaking, Rae prepared the sail to be raised and together, she and Max pushed the boat into the waves.
Kellen watched Max haul out the oars and gesture Rae to her place by the motor. She was going to steer them out beyond the breakers and into open water.
Living at Yearning Sands Resort had taught the child all the things they had hoped when they moved there: she biked, she sailed, she could survive in the wilderness. She had taught adults how to make a fire and tie a rope. Her confidence was as blinding as her smile.
Max cast off.
The waves came into this beach at an angle; Max said that meant it was easier to get out beyond the surf. Easier might not be the correct term, because Max and Rae struggled mightily, using oars and the motor. Then they were out into the ocean and sailing out of sight…
That out of sight thing worried Kellen, so next time, she decided to go along. Max removed the motor to save the weight. They all hopped in and sailed away…
Max and Rae had a fabulous time, and returned drenched. Kellen simply returned drenched.
She was, she realized, the official Isla Paraíso party pooper.
On the other hand, she knew how to do enough stuff: rappel out of a helicopter, aim and shoot a weapon and, now, speak Italian well enough to find a bathroom and order a meal. She had even learned to crochet an afghan, which Verona triumphantly pointed out was great physical therapy for her hands.
Kellen would rather play piano.
She determined that her other accomplishments voided the need to join Max and Rae on the briny deep out of some misguided sense of adventure.
Turning away, she followed the ocean cliffs around toward the mansion. As her feet pounded out the miles, she breathed hard, exalting in the isolation, the wildness, the waves. As birds soared above her, her soul rose to meet them…
The mansion came into view and she dropped into a walk. She should go into the kitchen, converse with Olympia about lunch and dinner, but during the weeks they had lived here, that woman hadn’t warmed to the island or their family.
Kellen did the cowardly thing; she dodged a meeting with Olympia, went around to the front door, and ran up to the shower. When she was clean and dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, she stopped by the library, picked up Ruby Morgade’s diary and headed for the garage.
The carriage house doors and the door against the back wall stood wide to let the breeze sweep through. She paused outside in the shadows to watch Max and Rae together, and she smiled.
Her husband and daughter were working on the truck, deep under the hood, fiercely discussing whether electrical tape would repair the worn radiator hose, and having a marvelous time. Something must have alerted them to her presence, because Rae looked up and said, “Mommy, you know. Can we use electrical tape to repair the radiator hose?”
“If you use enough of it.” Kellen strolled in.
“That’s the problem.” Max held up a partial roll. “This is all we’ve got.”
It wasn’t.
Kellen had been slowly cataloging all the equipment in the metal drawers under the tool bench. That first caretaker had kept tools and spare parts to fix the wells, generators, vehicles, toilets—you name it, it was there, including black electrical tape.
Kellen exchanged a look with Luna, who sprawled on a wool blanket close to the back door.
A good mechanic always looked through the toolboxes before she started working on a vehicle.
Max was an amateur, but he was having such a good time figuring it out on his own, Kellen bit her tongue, keeping her advice to herself, unless he asked.
And he did everything in his power not to ask.
“I wonder if there’s a roll of electrical tape in the house,” Max muttered. “Seems like there should be.” He looked at the roll in his hand, decided to go for it, and leaned in to wrap the hose. F-100s operated with six-cylinder engines in an eight-cylinder engine compartment, and enough room to stand inside if he needed. Kellen guessed, at the rate he was going, pretty soon he was going to need to.
Rae sat on the fender of the F-100 in an old, oversize pair of mechanic’s coveralls with well-rolled cuffs, and sent a dark frown at Kellen. “It’s the Fourth of July, and Daddy says we can’t have fireworks.”
“Didn’t bring any.” Max bobbed up from unde
r the hood.
“It’s too dry for fireworks.” Kellen cleared herself a spot on the tool bench, boosted herself up, picked up her stress ball and squeezed it in her right hand. Not because she was stressed, but because it strengthened her grip. “It hasn’t rained since the first day we got here. The grass is like tinder. If we set off any kind of spark, we’d be surrounded by the smoking remains of the whole island…if we weren’t burned to a crisp with it.”
The lack of rain was a worry. The cisterns were low; Max figured they had about two weeks’ worth of water left before they either had to call for some to be brought across the ocean or leave the island. As Max said privately to Kellen, if only there was a break in the Mara case.
But Interpol had lost her. The FBI insisted she wasn’t on United States soil. Most worrisome, when Max checked the radio for reports, Diana, Kellen’s tracker friend, had disappeared.
“It’s the Fourth of July. We should celebrate. We could shoot off fireworks at the beach. The sparks would go over the ocean.” Rae beamed. “Problem solved!”
Kellen looked out the back windows. She could see the green lawn where the sprinklers regularly nourished the carefully cut grass, and the dividing line where the sprinklers stopped, and the wild grasses took over in a dry, golden profusion. “Luna would not be impressed.”
At the sound of her name, Luna left her blanket and came to stand at Kellen’s feet and stare. Regardless of her inability to climb, she wanted up, onto the workbench.
“If you can get up here, you’re welcome,” Kellen told her.
Luna gave a lovely doggie sneer of contempt, backed up and took a running leap. She landed on the bench, skidded along the wood, took out a pile of tools and stopped when she slammed against the window frame. The thump and clatter brought all movement in the garage to a halt, and everyone stared at Luna, who with elaborate casualness stretched out beside Kellen and smiled at her audience.
“Luna was our rescue dog,” Max said. “But I’ve often wondered what her job was before she came to us.”
“Burglar?” Kellen suggested.
Strangers She Knows Page 8
