by Brenda Novak
“Someone who likes to ramble, who feels most at home when he’s on the road. Or in the wilderness, as the case may be.” She wished he’d start putting the rest of the food away and stop watching her. His presence was forcing her to eat more than she wanted. “Have you had any close encounters since that bear attack—other than with the tree that nearly wiped you out last night?”
He finished his juice and rinsed the glass. “I got a strange spider bite in Kenya a few months ago.” He spoke over his shoulder. “Made my hand swell up to three times its size.” He showed her the scar.
“Do you know the kind of spider it was?”
“No. It didn’t happen while I was shooting. It happened while I was sleeping.”
“Were you someplace you could get medical help?”
“Not really. One of the guys I was traveling with lanced it and sucked out the poison.”
“That must’ve been fun.” She nibbled on her asparagus. “What’s your favorite place you’ve ever been?”
He leaned against the counter. “You mean besides here?”
“You like Pineview?”
“Don’t you?”
“It’s okay.” She drank a sip of her own juice. “But I’m leaving here someday.”
“When?”
“As soon as I figure out what happened to my mom and feel Leanne will be fine on her own.”
He crossed his feet. “Where do you want to go?”
She thought of all the exotic places he’d been and felt like a country bumpkin by comparison. She’d never left Montana. “I don’t know. Someplace far away and metropolitan. Maybe Los Angeles or New York.”
“You’ve lived in a small town all your life. You don’t think that’d be lonely?”
She was already lonely. She doubted it could get much worse. At least she’d have the promise of something new and different around the next corner. “It’d be nice to have a change of pace, a chance to meet new people.”
“You seemed to like it here when David was alive.”
“It felt different then.”
“In what way?”
“Lots of ways.”
“Such as?”
“I assumed we’d have a family. This would be a great place to raise kids, but if I’m going to be single I’d rather be somewhere with more…possibility.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “There’s no one in Pineview you’d like to date?”
“No.”
His lips pursed. “It’s getting easier and easier to see why you came here last night.”
She owed him an apology for that. He hadn’t invited her. And he’d hurt himself trying to help her. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have kept you up.”
His voice held a wry note when he responded. “I didn’t mind.”
“I’m glad.” But if that was true, why had he stopped short of making love to her? She wanted to ask but knew it was territory they’d be wise to avoid. “Thanks for dinner, but…I’d better get going.”
Although he took her plate, he didn’t turn toward the sink. “You’re not staying?”
A tremor of desire passed through her, as strong as ever. But she knew she’d be a fool to continue what she’d started last night. She was only making it harder to fall in love with someone else, someone who might actually be right for her. “No, um, not tonight.” She got up and edged toward the door. “But I appreciate dinner.”
He set her plate on the counter. “You didn’t eat much.”
“But it was good.” At least, she assumed it was. Everything tasted like cardboard these days.
When he came over to her, she forced herself not to back away. She wouldn’t look up, had no idea what he was thinking, but it was impossible not to shiver when he slid his hand down her arm.
“You didn’t enjoy yourself last night?” he murmured.
Her eyes lifted, seemingly of their own volition, and locked with his. He was so close. All she had to do was rise on tiptoe, and he’d kiss her.
She almost did it. But fulfilling her desire wasn’t worth the regret she’d struggle with tomorrow—she knew because of what she’d dealt with today.
“It was fine, er, generous of you to, ah, accommodate me, since you weren’t interested yourself. It’s just…I’m a little lost right now. I think I need to figure out who I am without David, and where I’m going with my life, before I start sleeping around too much.” She gave him a wry smile to indicate that she was joking about the sleeping-around part. “But if I ever decide to play fast and loose again, you’ll be the first person I call.”
“No one can make love like I can.” He wore an inscrutable expression when he repeated her words from their night together, but she’d made the right decision this time. She had to heal, become whole, before she could manage any kind of relationship, particularly with someone who could wield as much power over her as Isaac Morgan.
“True.” She clicked her tongue. “Just one of the many reasons all the ladies line up at your door.”
“What’s another?”
Reaching for the unobtainable came to mind, but she didn’t say that. “You know how to grill a steak.”
“You ate two bites of it.”
“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t good.”
“Now that you’re impervious to my appeal and my cooking, you might as well stay over,” he said. “I don’t have an extra bedroom. One’s my office and the other’s a darkroom. But the couch is free. At least you won’t be alone.”
It was an appealing offer. One she wanted to accept, especially when she thought of returning home and facing the pictures of her and David on the walls. Or Leanne and the growing concern that she was drinking too much. Or the mystery shrouding her mother’s disappearance.
Her problems seemed insurmountable.
Because she was too tired, she told herself. Why not check out of regular life for a little while?
“That sounds good.” She briefly touched his chest in thanks. “Maybe we’ll be better friends than we were lovers, huh?”
She could tell she’d surprised him. He’d probably never had a woman over who’d opted to sleep alone.
“That’s what you want? To be friends?”
She thought about it for a second, then nodded. “Yeah. I could use a friend right now.”
He lowered his eyes. She suspected he was looking at the monkey bite he’d given her, which burned as if his mouth was still latched onto her skin. “I’ll get you some bedding.”
Generous of you to accommodate me, since you weren’t interested yourself.
Isaac almost laughed aloud when he remembered that line. Maybe he’d lost interest in other women—for months, he hadn’t paid any attention to who or what was available—but he definitely hadn’t lost interest in Claire.
She had no clue what she did to him, but he wasn’t about to let on. She was right when she said she was a little lost. The weight loss told him that much. If he really cared about her, he’d be the friend she needed and leave it at that. He had far less chance of letting her down as a friend than he did as a lover. There were still times when he felt he had to head out into the wilderness, to be alone for extended periods. He couldn’t imagine how that would go over if he ever entered a committed relationship. He just wasn’t cut out to be the kind of steady, reliable man David was.
Claire needed another David. She didn’t need him.
But it wasn’t easy to have her so close and not take her to bed. He should’ve made love to her last night while he had the chance. Then maybe he wouldn’t be staring at the ceiling now. He’d wanted to, but he’d been too stung, too disappointed that she hadn’t come for the reasons he’d wished…?.
The shower went on, which only made matters worse. He’d given her a towel, told her she could make herself at home, but picturing the water rolling over her naked body was driving him crazy. The shower used to be one of their favorite places to make love.
Actually, he couldn’t remember a place they hadn’t liked.
The phone rang. Surprised that he’d be getting a call so late, he checked the clock—1:20—as he reached for the handset. Was it someone looking for Claire?
Caller ID read Restricted.
“Hello?”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing blindsiding Leland with that bullshit about David’s death not being an accident?”
His caller hadn’t bothered to identify himself, but Isaac recognized the voice. Rusty Clegg.
“What business of it is yours whether or not I call Leland about anything?” he responded. “It’s not as if I have anything to say to you.”
“It’s my business if it concerns David. You hardly even knew him.”
“I knew him well enough. Anyway, what does that have to do with whether or not his death was an accident?”
“It makes me wonder why you’re even getting involved.”
“And that makes me wonder why you’re so upset that I raised the question. Did I hit too close to the truth, Rusty? Do you know something you should’ve told the sheriff?”
“I work for the sheriff, damn it. And if there’d been the slightest chance that David’s death was anything but an accident, I would’ve jumped all over it.”
“Then you know he was investigating Alana O’Toole’s disappearance.”
There was a moment of silence. “That’s bullshit. David wasn’t doing any such thing.”
“You sure about that?”
“If he was, he would’ve mentioned it to me—not only because we were friends but because I was already working for the sheriff’s department. I’m the person he would’ve gone to for help.”
“Maybe he didn’t trust you.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Adrenaline had vanquished any sleepiness Isaac had begun to feel. He got out of bed to pace. “Either that, or he didn’t have a lot of confidence in your ability, because he was investigating. And that’s a fact.”
“I don’t see how you could know anything about it. You weren’t even in town when he died.”
But he’d heard the news and flown back to attend the funeral. The whole town had turned out on that rainy day. Isaac would never forget hovering at the edge of the cemetery, wanting to comfort Claire as she stood crying under that umbrella long after everyone had left. He hadn’t let himself go anywhere close. Since he still cared about her it’d seemed too self-serving to sidle up to the grieving widow. But he hadn’t been able to leave until she did. “I didn’t realize you kept such close track of my whereabouts, Rusty.”
“I notice you.”
“Because…”
“Because I’ve never liked you much, okay? And neither did David. He knew you wanted his wife. Don’t think he didn’t.”
Isaac could’ve had his wife before she married David. He was pretty sure he could have Claire now. She’d been in his bed last night, hadn’t she? Getting her wasn’t the problem; doing right by her was. There was a magnetism between them that had been there for a long time.
Maybe others could feel that chemistry, too. Maybe that was the real problem. “Is there a reason my call to Leland upset you, Rusty?”
“It’s just not the kind of message I want on my answering machine when I get home after a long day. If David was murdered, I would’ve done something about it.”
“So you’ve at least considered the possibility.”
“No! Why would I? It was an accident, pure and simple. I was there that day, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“And there’s no way you could’ve gotten it wrong.”
“Absolutely not! The hunter who hit him felt terrible. Can you imagine what that would be like?”
He could imagine it. Lord knew he’d made enough of his own mistakes to understand the pain of regret. But he could also imagine a scenario where someone used the cover of hunting season to commit the perfect murder. “Did anyone check the caliber of the bullet? Trace it back to that hunter’s rifle?”
“Of course. We did our homework.”
“What was the hunter’s name? Where was he from?”
“I’m not giving you that information. He was just some guy from out of state who thought he was shooting at a bear, okay? Don’t start anything and get Claire all upset. She’s still recovering from David’s death.”
Isaac tensed as he remembered finding Claire walking along the side of the road. “If you care so much about her, why’d you leave her stranded at the Kicking Horse tonight?”
Isaac had told himself he wouldn’t mention it. It was better if he and Claire kept what they felt for each other on the down low. They’d have more privacy that way. But he was angry at Rusty for being stupid enough to let her walk alone so late at night, especially after the incident at Alana’s studio. Rusty was a sheriff’s deputy, for Christ’s sake. He, of all people, should have been more cautious.
There was another long silence. “I went back, looking for her. Spent over an hour driving up and down every street between the Kicking Horse and her place, but I couldn’t find her. What, did she call you for a ride? Is that how you know?” She had called him. She hadn’t said anything, but he’d known it was her, even though he’d had other women contact him from the same pay phone. Hayley Peters was one of them. She called whenever she got enough alcohol in her to lower her inhibitions. But he’d been expecting to hear from Claire all evening. So he’d taken the chance it was her and not Hayley, and he’d been right. “I happened to be driving by, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to leave her stranded.”
Rusty cursed, sighed and cursed again. “That was a mistake. I was…upset. Was she okay when you found her?”
“She was fine, no thanks to you.”
“I’ve tried to call and apologize. She won’t pick up.”
“I’m sure she’s asleep by now.” He wished that was the case. Then he could quit obsessing about her having a shower in his bathroom.
“I shouldn’t have reacted like I did. Of course she wants to take things slow.”
“You think she’s interested in you?”
“Why not? I care about her.”
“You have a funny way of showing it.”
He bristled again. “What happened tonight is none of your business. And neither is whatever happened to David.”
Isaac wasn’t willing to accept that. He had confidence in Myles King; Myles was a damn good sheriff. But as far as Isaac was concerned, Rusty wasn’t much of a deputy, and it was Rusty who’d been with David, not Myles. “Did you check to see if the hunter had any ties to anyone here in Pineview?”
“Why would I do that? It was an accident! Besides, who in Pineview had anything against David? And how would anyone here find, let alone hire, someone to kill for them?”
It was called the internet. Or friends of friends of friends. Montana had more than its share of gun lovers. And gun lovers had contacts regular people did not. Maybe killing for hire didn’t happen often, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen. If someone didn’t want David delving into Alana’s disappearance, the chances of taking a bullet from a hired assassin were as high as getting shot by a random hunter. Rusty was letting his familiarity with this place and its people influence him too much. If whoever killed Alana—supposing she was killed—felt they were about to be exposed, they could easily decide to act again.
But confronting Rusty wasn’t working. Isaac decided it might be smarter to pretend he was backing off. Perhaps then Rusty would relax and lower his defenses. “Yeah, you’re right. That’d be a stretch. Forget I said anything.”
He hesitated. “That’s it?”
“That’s it. Except…”
“What?” He sounded leery.
“How did you know which hunter shot David? Did he come forward on his own?”
“No. He couldn’t find a downed bear, thought he’d missed his shot and was leaving the area. We tracked him ourselves.” Rusty was as defensive as ever, but at least he was answering a few questions—probably because he felt th
at being able to identify the shooter proved he was as competent at his job as he wanted to appear.
“And what’d the guy say when you found him?”
“He was shocked, said he was sorry. He’d just killed one of my best friends. What do you think he’d say?”
“Did he attend the funeral?”
“No, he felt that might be too upsetting to the community. But he sent Claire some flowers along with a hefty check to pay for David’s funeral. Said it was the least he could do.”
That meant Claire knew who he was. Maybe she had his contact information. “That is the least he could do.” And it would make his remorse seem all the more sincere.
“Now I have a question for you,” Rusty said.
Isaac tensed.
“Why are you bringing this up now? I mean, it’s been over a year since David died. If you thought he was investigating Alana’s disappearance and that’s what got him killed, why’d you wait so long to mention it?”
“I think you already know the answer to that.”
“You just found out.”
Isaac didn’t confirm it. The truth was obvious enough.
“Does this have anything to do with what happened to Claire last night at the studio?” he asked.
“You’re the sheriff’s deputy. You tell me.” Isaac was done with Rusty. He wasn’t going to learn any more from him, so he disconnected.
When he pivoted to return the phone to its base, he saw Claire standing in his doorway wearing one towel wrapped around her head and another around her body.
“What was that all about?” she asked, but judging by the stark expression on her face, she knew. He’d become so involved in the conversation he wasn’t sure exactly when the shower had gone off or how long she’d been listening, but she’d heard enough.
Isaac shoved a hand through his hair. He should’ve talked to her about this when he went to her house with those files. Or gone to greater lengths to keep his suspicions a secret. This wasn’t how he’d wanted the question to be raised. But now that she knew what he believed…there wasn’t any way to take it back. “Surely you’ve asked yourself whether or not David’s death was the accident you’ve been told it was.”
Her knuckles whitened as she clung to the towel she held closed at her bustline. “You think Les Weaver killed him on purpose?”
