Bump in the Night

by J. D. Robb

  He glanced at his watch. The crystal had shattered, the time stopped at the moment of impact. Four P.M.

  He shook off the dozens of questions whirling around in his mind. Hadn’t he always accepted his extraordinary luck as his right? What he needed to concentrate on now was the fact that his mysterious passenger was missing and probably dead. As for the plane carrying Marty and the crew, they must have landed somewhere nearby, perhaps to pick up emergency provisions and medical personnel before coming to his rescue.

  For now, he consoled himself, his string of luck was holding. He was alive and well. And in the care of the very beautiful and apparently very capable Grace Marin.

  On the trek of the cottage, Grace paused beside a fallen log. “Would you like to rest?”

  Josh shook his head. “I’m doing fine. It’s hard to believe I went through a crash.”

  “No fatigue? No weakness?”

  “None. I’m feeling better than I have in a long time. Probably all those hours of sleep,” he added with a laugh. Or maybe, he thought, it was the company of this intriguing woman. He glanced over. “What are you doing in the middle of nowhere?”

  “I’m a photographer with the World. My editor sent me out here to get some pictures of a ghost light.”

  “Ghost light?”

  Grace chuckled. “That’s what I’m calling it. Pilots and fishermen in the area reported seeing a light dancing across the water. Thinking it’s a boater in trouble, they follow it. But when they get close, it looks like a woman.”

  “A woman? You mean a ghost that walks on water?”

  Grace shrugged. “I know. It sounds crazy. The latest urban legend. Still, my editor thought it would make an interesting report.”

  “So? Have you seen her?”

  “No. I just got here a short time before your plane went down.”

  “Sorry to mess up your plans.”

  “Yeah. You had a lot of nerve crashing your plane at such an inconvenient time.”

  They were both grinning as they stepped from the tangle of forest to the clearing around the cabin.

  Josh looked around with avid interest. The structure was built of sturdy weathered logs, with a high-pitched roof to dispel snow. Behind the cottage was a small storage shed almost completely hidden by the vines and shrubs that had taken over. Beneath a gnarled oak sat a scarred wooden picnic table that seemed to be an extension of the tree itself. A short distance from the cabin, a long wooden dock jutted out like a bony finger into the rough waters of the lake.

  “Whose place is this?”

  Grace shrugged. “I never asked. I figure the World contacted the owner and rented it for the week. I just wish they’d sent someone out to check on it before sending me here. It’s a bit . . . primitive.”

  He shot her a grin. “As long as it’s shelter, I’m not about to complain. Besides, it looks solid enough.”

  “It does.” She looked around, before nodding toward the vine-covered outbuilding. “The gas-powered generator is in there.”

  Josh followed her to the little shed. While she stowed the cart, he studied the rusted parts to the ancient equipment with a frown. “No wonder you weren’t able to get it started. I wonder how long it’s been since anyone used this.”

  “I can’t even guess.” She paused beside him. “Think you can make it work?”

  “I’m going to do my best.” He looked around. “I’ll need time to take it apart and see if I can remove some of this corrosion.”

  Grace nodded. “I’d like to help.” She lay a hand on his arm. “After all that rest, I’d welcome some hard, physical work.”

  He studied her hand on his arm before looking up into her face and her heart-stopping smile. “Thanks. I’ll take all the help I can get. And if you’re looking for physical, I’m your man.”

  Grace’s heart took an odd little dip. To steady herself she bent to the pile of supplies she’d unloaded from the cart.

  Josh held out his hands. “I’ll get back to the generator later. First, I’ll help you carry some of this to the cabin.”

  “All right.” She filled his arms with the folded sleeping bag and blanket and held the door before leading the way to the cabin.

  When Josh stepped inside the cottage, he was pleased to discover that it was as snug and comfortable inside as it had appeared from the outside. A staircase led to a loft tucked beneath the high-pitched ceiling of rough-hewn beams. The main cabin was one large room dominated by a floor-to-ceiling fireplace made of stone, with a wide mantel made of the same wood as the beams overhead. Flanking the fireplace were two weathered wooden rockers that appeared to be as old as the cabin. Facing the fireplace was a comfortable sofa draped with a faded hand-made afghan. In front of the sofa was a weathered coffee table fashioned from scarred wood. A second table and chairs formed a kitchen area, beneath several pine cupboards.

  “I’ll take those.” Grace took the blankets from his hands and deposited them in a cedar storage box.

  Josh turned toward the hearth. “Want me to get a fire started?”

  “That’d be nice.” She pointed. “I see some logs and kindling in that basket.”

  Crossing the room Josh tossed several logs on the grate before holding a match to the kindling. “How about some coffee?”

  “I brought some with me, along with bottled water.” Grace turned toward the cupboards. “I’ll rummage around and see if there’s anything I can use for making coffee.”

  Josh pointed to a blackened pot on a warming shelf over the fire. “You mean you didn’t notice this little treasure?”

  She gave a laugh. “What an antique. I’ve only seen one of these in pictures.”

  Josh found an empty bucket and headed toward the door. “I’ll get some water from the lake, and while I’m there I’ll wash this.”

  By the time he returned, Grace had retrieved a can of coffee from her supplies.

  Soon the little cabin was perfumed with the rich fragrance of wood smoke and coffee.

  Filling two mugs, Josh handed one to Grace before taking a long drink. “Now that we’ve taken care of what to drink, I hope you have some food hidden somewhere. I’m famished.”

  Grace shrugged. “I’m afraid food isn’t much of a priority for me.” She flushed when she caught Josh studying her more closely. “But I did bring some milk and eggs and bread and some peanut butter.”

  “Sorry. Man wasn’t meant to live on bread and peanut butter alone.” He paused a moment in thought. “I noticed some fishing poles in that shed out back. Come on.” He started toward the door, with Grace following. “Let’s just see what other treasures we’ll find.”

  Half an hour later the two were seated at the end of the dock, fishing poles in hand, lines in the water, contentedly sipping their coffee.

  Josh leaned his back against one of the wooden posts that had been sunk deep into the river bottom to support the dock. He watched with amusement as Grace kept yanking her line out of the water. “What’re you doing?”

  “Seeing if I’ve caught a fish yet.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll know when you’ve hooked one. You’ll feel a quick tug . . .”

  Just then Grace let out a squeal of excitement and jumped to her feet, lifting her pole high in the air. Wriggling on the end of the line was a fish as long as her arm.

  “Look! Look! I’ve caught one. Oh, my gosh, it’s a whale.”

  Josh was laughing as he took hold of her arm and guided the fish into a net. “Not quite a whale, but a good-sized trout. He’ll make a great dinner tonight.”

  “This is going to be so much better than P, B, and J sandwiches.”

  “You’ve got that right.” He worked out the hook and dropped the trout into a bucket of water.

  Minutes later he felt a tug on his own pole and lifted it in the air to reveal another catch. “The way these fish are biting, it looks like we won’t have to worry about starving any time soon.”

  Within the hour they’d carried the bucket with their cat
ch to the picnic table, where Josh showed Grace the proper way to bone and fillet the fish for cooking.

  She watched with interest. “Is this what you do for a living?”

  He chuckled. “I do this just for the pure pleasure of it.” He arranged the fillets in a blackened skillet before heading toward the cabin. “Come on. Let’s stoke the fire and see if we can’t get this feast started. By the time you’re finished, you’re going to think you were dining in one of New York City’s finest gourmet restaurants.”

  “Promise?”

  He was still laughing as he held the door and followed her inside. “You aren’t going to believe your taste buds.”

  Four

  Grace set out plates and flatware on the rustic wooden coffee table positioned in front of the sofa.

  She studied Josh, cooking the fish in a blackened skillet over the flames of the fireplace. He’d rolled the sleeves of his denim shirt to his elbows. Despite the plane crash, he was the picture of robust health, his body trim, his back and arms corded with muscles. Every once in a while he paused to sip his coffee before flipping the fish. He looked at ease, natural, as though he did this every day of his life.

  “What do you do? That is, when you’re not crashing a plane into the wilderness?”

  He shot her a grin. “Extreme sports.”

  “Extreme?”

  “Instead of just taking a hot air balloon up, I take it around the world and beat the old world record in the process. If I decide to surf, I choose to do it where I’ll be the most physically and emotionally challenged.”

  Her hands paused in midair. “Why?”

  He grinned. “It beats working for a living. And it gets the adrenaline pumping.”

  Grace gave a quick shake of her head. “I once told my father the same thing when he asked me why I had to go gallivanting around the world taking pictures. He couldn’t understand why I wasn’t content to just work at a local newspaper.”

  “Hmmm.” He shot her a grin. “Does that mean we’re kindred souls?”

  “I don’t know about that. I doubt I’d volunteer to circle the world in a hot air balloon.”

  “I only did it once.”

  That had her laughing. “How do you hope to top that?”

  His smile grew and he made a formal bow. “For my next trick, ladies and gentlemen, I’m going to explore the wilderness.”

  Grace couldn’t help grinning at his imitation of a carnival barker. “Were you planning on staying in one of the cottages here?”

  “Not really. I’d planned on camping in the open. Along the trail.” He wrapped a towel around the handle of the skillet and removed it from the fire. “I was about to film my journey for a television special.”

  “You’re a TV producer, too?”

  He gave a quick shake of his head. “Just a guy who loves nature.”

  “How many people are going with you?”

  “Just me. The rest of the crew planned on filming me here at the beginning, and then waiting for me at the end of the journey to wrap things up.”

  She flushed. “I’m afraid I don’t watch much television. I’m out of the country more often than I’m home. I’m not familiar with your show.”

  “It isn’t a TV show yet. The producer was hoping this special might create enough interest to make it into a regular feature on the Sports News Network.”

  “Now that’s something I’m familiar with. SNN is seen everywhere.”

  The fish were still sizzling as Josh turned them onto a plate. He removed a packet of leaves from the fire and opened them to reveal a mixture of steaming roots that he’d collected from the wild vegetation growing in the woods around the cabin.

  When he carried the platter to the table, Grace eyed it with naked hunger.

  Josh shot her a wicked grin. “Wouldn’t you like to know what you’re about to eat?”

  “I don’t need the scientific names, if that’s what you mean. As long as you assure me that they’re edible.”

  “A girl after my own heart.” He settled down beside her and began to fill both their plates. “But just so you know the food is safe to eat, I’ll tell you the name of everything here.”

  She chuckled. “A lot of good that’ll do. How will I know whether you’ve given me their real name, or something you just made up?”

  “You won’t.” He popped a steaming green leaf into his mouth and gave a sigh of pleasure before swallowing. “Now this is what I call fresh.”

  Following his lead, Grace tasted the fish and couldn’t stop the little sigh that escaped her lips. “You’re right. It’s wonderful.” She speared a green leaf. “All right. Just to play along, what’s this called?”

  “Lamb’s-quarter. It’ll taste a lot like spinach.”

  She bit into it and gave a quick nod. “It does.” She lifted a steaming tuber. “And this?”

  “Wild yam. The Native Americans who lived here probably considered it a delicacy. It’ll stay fresh all winter if left in the ground.”

  “It’s delicious.” Grace tasted yet another green. “And this?”

  “Wild asparagus.”

  “Tasty.” She found herself wondering if he actually knew all these plants, or was having fun with her. Testing him, she pointed with her fork. “This?”

  “That’s wild mint. And that one is thyme.”

  She started to laugh. “Honestly?”

  “Would I lie to the woman who saved my life?” He speared a tuber. “This is orris root. And this is verbena. I’ll use some later to make you tea.”

  “You’re trying to impress me with all this knowledge, aren’t you?”

  “Guilty.” He grinned. “Is it working?”

  “Yeah.” She shot him a sideways glance. “How do you learn all this?”

  He shrugged. “The same way a city girl quickly learns which restaurant has the best carryout. I’ve spent so much time in the wild, eating from the land has become second nature to me.”

  “Is this when you tell me your amazing tale of having been raised in the wilderness by wolves, and that you’re actually an untamed mountain man?”

  That had them both laughing.

  It occurred to Josh that he was having a grand time, feeling more relaxed and carefree than he had in years. “I spent a lot of time with my grandmother. She used to tell me stories about my dad, and I wanted to be just like him. I was keen for any adventure. I was on skis as soon as I could walk. Climbing mountains when other kids were riding their bikes.” His tone lowered. Softened. “Gram told me that there wasn’t anything my father wouldn’t attempt. When I was a kid, I thought he could walk on water.”

  Grace heard the affection in his tone and felt a sudden ache around her heart at the thought of all she’d missed with her own father. “No wonder you need to get the generator up and running. He’ll be worried sick until he hears that you’re safe.”

  “My father died when I was ten. Until then, I was a military brat, moving all around the world. Though my mother hated it, I was having the time of my life.” He crossed to the fire, retrieving the coffeepot. “I think, if my father had lived, my parents would have gone their separate ways.” When he’d topped off both their cups, he set the coffeepot aside before returning to the sofa and stretching out his legs toward the heat. “Within a year of my dad’s death my mother remarried, and I was allowed to move in with my grandmother. It was a good move for all of us. My grandmother was an amazing woman.”

  Intrigued, Grace turned to him. “In what way?”

  He shrugged. “She’d buried a husband, a son. Since I was the only family member she had left, it would have been natural for her to lock the doors and cling to me as tightly as possible.”

  He saw Grace’s sudden frown and wondered where she’d just gone in her mind. “Instead of holding on too tightly, she seemed perfectly content to allow me to follow my heart, no matter where it took me. When I was fourteen I told her I wanted to hike the Appalachian Trail the way my dad had. She offered to come along, bu
t I told her I wanted to do it alone. And I did.”

  “But you were only a kid.”

  “I grew up fast. I found out a lot about myself that summer. After that, I spent every summer doing the things my father had done. Hiking in Wyoming. Snowboarding in Colorado. Fishing in Montana.”

  “So young. Weren’t you afraid and awfully lonely?”

  He smiled, remembering. “There were times when I thought I’d taken on a challenge that was bigger than my talent. But I can’t say I was ever afraid. As for feeling lonely . . .” He stared into the fire. “I’ve always felt the presence of my dad in my life.”

  Again that quick tug at her heart before Grace nodded toward the gloves in his breast pocket. “Your good luck charms.”

  “Yeah.” His grin was quick and easy as he removed them and set them on the table. “These were the only things left. They arrived in a box with a typewritten note saying my father had been wearing them when his plane went down.”

  “A plane crash?” She was so startled, she sat up straighter.

  “Didn’t I mention it? He was a soldier in Special Forces.”

  Grace went very still, wondering how he could speak of such a thing without emotion.

  “You’re quiet.” He reached over and caught her hand in his. “I’m sorry if I upset you. But if you’re thinking I was trying to emulate him by crashing my plane, you’re wrong.”

  She absorbed a jolt, but when she tried to pull away, she found herself held firmly. She stared at their joined hands, then up into his face. “I wonder how your grandmother found the courage to allow you such freedom after dealing with something so violent and unexpected?”

  He moved his thumb along her wrist and felt the way her pulse jumped. Was she feeling it, too? The heat? The adrenaline from this simple touch? “Gram told me that whenever we give in to our fears, the bad guys win. It’s become my mantra. Never let fear rule.”

  “I like that. Though I never heard it put into words, it’s pretty much my motto, too.”

  “Really?” He looked at her with new interest. “Most people I know prefer to avoid risks and live their lives quietly.”