Lobster and he didn’t get along, heresy for a native Mainer. He’d rather spend his evenings alone but maybe he’d become too much of a hermit. He’d take a steak to Kevin’s, sell it as surf and turf. “I’d like that. Just say when.”
The bartender, in tight shorts and a tank top that displayed her considerable assets, including a tattooed red rose in the middle of her cleavage, sashayed over. Ava Warren slid away the departed man’s beer and swiped the polished-wood bar with a rag. A tattoo of a gold chain braceleted her right wrist. “You want a draft, Jake honey? Or something stronger?”
Ava could make a sexual innuendo out of a license plate number. In high school, she’d played it fast and loose. Looked like she still did. She’d be a definite source of gossip, even twelve-year-old gossip. He’d rather have Lani’s memories, but he’d take info where he could get it. “Shipyard on draft’ll do me, Ava.”
As soon as the bartender set down two mugs of Shipyard, he reached for his wallet.
“Put this on my tab, Ava. It’s not every day I can get caught up with another member of the state Class C championship baseball team.”
Giving Jake the once-over, Ava pouted her lips. She poked at her spiky hair. A wonder her fingers didn’t come away bloody. “Looks like you still keep in shape, Jake honey.”
“I try.” Jake tilted up the beer mug. Was she hitting on him or slamming Kevin?
Not one to give up, she smiled seductively. “You two like some popcorn? It’s fresh—” she stared with lowered lashes at Jake “—and hot.”
Kevin gulped some beer and wiped his mouth, clearly covering a grin. “Um, popcorn. Yeah. Sure thing, Ava.”
Jake bit the inside of his lower lip. Both of them had seen Ava in action plenty of times.
She swished toward the popcorn machine. Scroll designs twined around her upper back and disappeared into her tank top.
“Hear Ava’s going through her second divorce. Maybe third.” Kevin chuckled. “Didn’t you date her back in high school?”
“The senior prom. Once was enough. She was the hot one then.” But when she’d heaved up the rum and Cokes she downed behind the gym, he cooled faster than getting dunked in the bay.
“Hot, yeah, but Gail Cameron was the hot one. Me and Lani, you and Gail. Remember?”
How could Jake forget that summer a few years later? He nodded but said nothing as he rubbed his scar. Kevin hadn’t changed in one way. Always did speak his mind without thinking. He was running for a seat in Congress, like his dad had years ago. How was that candor working for him in a political campaign?
They sipped their beers in silence for a few moments before Kevin spoke again, rattling on about working in his dad’s company. He puffed out his chest, putting his shirt buttons at risk, as he wound down. “Big responsibility. I supervise job sites and my sister manages the office. Except now I’m out two, three times a week campaigning around most of the southern half of the state. What about you? You take leave from the government or quit?”
“On leave.” He might return to duty after his undercover assignment here. And he might not. Hard to go back after what happened. “Life on board Uncle Joe’s boat suits me while I fix up Gram’s house. Gives me time to visit with Mom.”
“You getting much done on the house?”
“Fixed the steps to the porch. Still working on removing the old plaster in the living room. My brother paid for half the new roof, so that helps.” He’d built up solid savings and investments from his job. He’d accept some money from Hank to make him feel part of the deal, but the family man couldn’t afford to fork over much more.
They drank in silence as laughter erupted over a dart game across the room. Ava deposited a basket brimming with hot popcorn in front of them. The steamy butter-and-salt scent made Jake’s mouth water. “Guess I’m hungry after all.”
He snared a handful. Kevin scooped up a bigger one.
When Kevin had downed his second beer and most of the popcorn, he said, “Gotta go. Nora’ll be looking for me. I got a fundraiser tonight in Portland.”
Jake pulled out a five for Ava, to keep on her good side while he avoided hooking up with her. Besides, he had another female messing with his mind. He should stay away from Lani, but shit, he’d keep tabs on her, push her to remember.
Outside the dark bar, he blinked in the sun, still high in the late afternoon. Plenty of time to pull out old laths in Gram’s living room and grill a burger on deck. “You seen Lani?”
“Not yet. She and Nora get together but not when I’m around. They’ve stayed in touch over the years. I haven’t seen her since...you know.” Kevin gave a shudder. “I went to the hospital when they allowed visitors. You ever see a burn victim? Damned horrific.”
“Yeah.” Jake had gone too, but she’d lain there in a drugged sleep. Since then he’d seen other burn victims. Horrific didn’t begin to describe the result of flames on flesh. He suspected what had happened next wouldn’t reflect well on Kevin. “You broke up with her then?”
“I couldn’t face her like that.” He brightened. “Nora says surgery fixed her up. No scars.”
“Modern reconstructive surgery can work miracles.” No surgery could bring back the ones who didn’t make it. Like Gail. And his partner. The memory triggered a spasm in his thigh.
“Wonder how long all that repair took.”
“Good question.” Jake slapped him on the back. “You can ask Lani when you see her.”
Kevin bobbled his keys, nearly dropped them. “Are you nuts? I’d sooner kiss a live lobster than ask her that. She’d take off two layers of my hide.”
“A definite possibility.” And he’d deserve it.
Kevin climbed into the truck cab. He scratched his chin. “Guess she’s great looking again. Both twins were back then, for damn sure. But Gail was the hot one. Whooee, man, it wouldn’t have taken much for me to trade twins.”
Gail was the hot one. Kevin’d said it twice. Jake would ask what the hell that meant, but he’d be talking to the truck’s exhaust.
*****
Driving north on the East Road at night gave Lani the creeps. Especially after painting over that ghastly burnt offering.
She and Nora had finished painting the upper cabinets. She would tackle the rest tomorrow. Then she’d spent more hours immersed the news coverage of the fire and neglected to think about the house’s empty refrigerator—except for yogurt and milk. Tomorrow morning the supermarket in Bayport would stock her up for the rest of the week. For tonight she’d dine at the Eastward Inn in the village.
Coming here was the right move, though dangerous. The whole business hadn’t left her thoughts all day. That and Jake Wescott. A blast from the past.
He had to see him soon. He had to know she wasn’t giving up. Not now. She’d made some calls, but she needed Jake and his ATF creds to really dig. He wouldn’t leave her thoughts, but she shouldn’t read anything into his interest and concern. Only kindness and the ease of old friendship. Nothing more. Guys wanted beauty and perfection, not scars and attitude.
She stuffed her ambivalence into a box and shoved it deep. She should concentrate on her driving, on the challenge of the two-lane blacktop ringing the peninsula. A half moon cast light but the road was still too dark. And lonely. No other cars. Driveways shrouded in trees and bushes concealed the few houses on her left.
By Birch Brook Farm and farther down the peninsula, the East Road veered inland, so the farmland stretched toward the bay, but here, the road bordered the water. Beyond the narrow right-hand shoulder the earth fell away to ocean waves crashing on the rocks. She loved that daytime view, a major tourist draw. Now she saw only the reflective metal of the guardrail.
Headlights appeared in her rearview mirror. The other vehicle closed the distance between them in a matter of seconds. The high beams stabbed through the Forester’s rear window, the glare making it harder to see.
Lani blinked and frowned. She adjusted her rear-view mirror.
Sitting up t
hat high, the vehicle must be some kind of truck. It rode close enough to swallow her rear bumper. Speeding, tailgating, not dimming high beams. Probably kids out for a joy ride.
The road’s blind curves made passing impossible. That impatient driver might go for it anyway. On her side, nowhere to pull over, no scenic turnout. All she could do was drive. Whoever the jerk was had made this short journey dangerous. Her heart raced and her hands slicked the steering wheel. She wiped each palm in turn on her pants legs.
A yellow warning sign appeared ahead for a sharp curve. The familiar nearly V-shaped turn locals called the Devil’s Elbow jutted outward to a sheer cliff. Bad enough in daylight but much more hazardous at night. Gripping the wheel so tightly her hands cramped, she leaned forward to peer into the darkness.
A hard jolt knocked her forward.
The seat belt caught and jerked her hard. Kept her head from hitting the steering wheel. The Forester swerved across the yellow line. The guard rail seemed to reach for her. She wrenched the car back into her lane. Her pulse pounded and blood roared in her ears.
This was no joy rider. That ramming was deliberate. “You idiot!”
When she glanced into her side mirror, the truck’s high beams blinded her. But why was someone attacking her? And who would do such a thing? No time to wonder now.
The headlights behind her veered to the left.
Thank God. He’s going to pass.
As the bigger vehicle overtook her, it lurched right. The truck rammed her. The force jerked her hands from the wheel and slammed the car to the side.
Lani stomped on the brakes. The tires howled as they ground on the blacktop. Momentum careened the car sideways. Toward the guard rail and the wave-battered granite below the Devil’s Elbow.
The bottom dropped out of her stomach.
Chapter 4
Jake rubbed the back of his neck. Driving to Birch Brook Farm this time of night was probably a butt-stupid thing to do. The arson investigator had reached a hasty conclusion based on too little evidence the fire was accidental. Lani’d pulled her sister out of that damn barn. She must’ve seen something. Maybe someone. He had to question her some more. She’d probably had counseling years ago, but not now, not after returning to the scene of the crime. He winced at the phrase. Hell, maybe he’d talk her into hypnosis.
And it wouldn’t hurt to make sure she was okay after discovering that smoking animal in her kitchen.
The half moon’s beam poured like a ribbon of milk across the island-dotted ocean. Fucking poetic. That’s what the coast of Maine did to him. Or was it thinking about Lani? How proud and determined this grown-up Lani was. The zing when he thought of her made denial impossible. But was it her he wanted or a ghost? Complicated and impossible.
The more he thought about her, the more he felt he owed her the truth about the night of the fire. Once he explained, maybe his conscience would be clearer. Yeah, right. She could already be in danger. He wanted her to remember, but what if someone else feared she would? Pain stabbed him like somebody’d dumped roofing nails in his gut.
A dark pickup whipped around the turn and careered toward Jake. Its high halogen beams blinded him. Dirt and mud covered most of the truck. The truck, more massive than his vehicle, straddled the middle yellow lines, occupying the whole road.
Jake let loose a string of expletives that seared the air. He nearly wrenched his vehicle into the hillside to avoid a collision. By the time he braked to a stop, the truck had vanished around the next turn. Damn, if only he could’ve seen their license number. He inhaled and blew out a harsh breath as he steered back onto the road.
He slowed at the next curve. Lights pierced the sky from a skewed angle. Headlights. And they weren’t moving.
His beams slid across a white Forester at the apex of the sharp turn. Its driver-side tires hung a foot above the rocky ground. Shit, the vehicle had skidded partway over the edge. He lowered his window for a better look. The only thing holding it was the guard rail. Above the rumble of waves, straining metal shrieked.
He stopped the Cherokee. Was that the car from Birch Brook Farm?
Lani?
His heart rate lurched into high gear. He steered the SUV to the side and punched on the emergency flashers. As soon as he got out, the driver’s door opened a crack.
The Forester rocked. Tilted even higher. The metal guard rail groaned and snapped.
“Don’t move!” he shouted. “You’ll send it over.”
A head appeared in the driver’s side window. “Help me.”
Her terrified call stabbed him in the gut. His pulse clattered. “Lani, are you hurt?”
“Jake,” she said with shaky relief. “I’m okay. Help me get out. The guard rail...it’s going.”
Gut tight, heart thumping against his chest wall, he’d do her no good this way. He tamped down emotion and assessed the situation. The driver’s airbag hadn’t deployed because of the sideways skid. And she was right. One guard-rail support had popped from the rocky soil and another was bent. More weight or another shake of the vehicle would hurry the job.
He knew the rocks that lay below. If the Forester went over, Lani would die.
He returned to the Cherokee. No towing gear, but he’d stowed a mooring line in back. The engine lacked enough power to pull the car to safety but could steady it. He ran over with the rope.
“Hold still until I give you the word. Then open the door and jump out fast.”
She eyed the rope and seemed to realize what he planned. She wasted no breath or time on questions. “I got it.”
Confidence instead of terror in her voice reassured him. He looped one end of the rope around the raised front wheel and tied it securely.
Unwinding the coil as he went, he returned to the SUV. He maneuvered the rear end toward the Forester and set the emergency brake. Pulled the rope through the trailer hitch until it was taut. His fingers flew to tie a bowline. A hard tug on the free end would release the knot.
When she jumped, he’d have to move fast or the Cherokee might take a dive into the briny with her car. He had to take the chance.
He jumped into his vehicle, put it in first gear, and released the emergency brake. Kept his foot poised on the gas pedal in case the Forester started to go and watched her in his side mirror. “Car’s anchored. Jump now!”
She shoved open the door, a hard task at that angle. Pushing herself upward, she widened the space with her shoulders.
Then she hung suspended, only her torso out, for long moments.
The car rocked and wobbled. The rail shrieked in protest. The taut line groaned. Jake nudged the gas pedal before force could drag the truck.
“I’m stuck,” she gasped. “Door’s heavy.”
Another rail support sprang free with a loud pop like a gunshot.
He was powerless to help her. Could only keep the line taut and wait. And pray. Those nails still in his gut jabbed him again and again. “Hurry! It’s going.”
She heaved at the door. Dived out head first. Landed in a heap beneath the tilted car.
The railing broke and tumbled over the cliff. Rocks and soil slid after it. The Forester skidded sideways a few feet. Rocked. Threatened to right itself. It could fall and crush her.
Lani lay still.
Jake’s chest squeezed. Maybe the fall knocked her unconscious? He killed the engine, released the knot. Dashed to her. The stiff muscle in his thigh pulled but he pushed on. “Get up! Move!”
Sucking in deep breaths, she scrambled to her feet.
He slung an arm around her in support. Together they staggered away from the cliff and the teetering vehicle. He looked back as the car rolled over the cliff.
The tow rope followed, whipping back and forth like a live snake. The first impact, as loud as a crate of C-4, killed the headlights. Steel scraped and slammed against rocks. Glass shattered with the impact.
The busted-up vehicle hit the water with a tsunami splash. Then all was silent except the waves churning against
the rocks.
Still trembling, Lani clung to him. He wrapped his arms around her and held on. Waited for his heart rate to slow and for the tight pain in his gut to ease.
Feeling her against him, she felt athletic and strong, and her lemony scent—shampoo—reassured him. “You okay? Anything broken?”
“I’m fine. Just pissed as hell.” With unsteady steps, she trudged to the cliff and peered over the edge.
He joined her. The moonlight showed only roiling water. “Careful. The edge is unstable.”
She stepped back gingerly, sighing. “My poor car. Totaled.”
“Did that speeding pickup have something to do with this?”
“Of course it was that asshole. You think I have a death wish?” She laid a palm on her cheek in mock dismay.
Her sarcasm ought to grate like sandpaper on sunburn, but in-your-face beat woe-is-me any day. “Chill. I was just asking.”
“Sorry. I’m sniping at you when I should be thanking you for saving my life.” She huffed out a breath and hugged herself.
He squatted down to distance himself from the temptation to hold her again and to ease his leg. He poked through the stones at his feet and picked up one of the railing’s bolts, now bent and useless. “After he went around the curve, he nearly hit me head on.”
Her brows winged upward. “Can you identify the truck?”
Standing, Jake cursed himself inwardly. “Wish I could. Guy’d been in a mud run or a swamp. Front and back, both license plates were unreadable. His lights blinded me.” Some trained federal agent. He didn’t know the make or color either other than dark. He heaved the mangled bolt into the ocean. Should be the pickup’s driver. “Could’ve been an accident. You sure he wasn’t out-of-control drunk?”
“That was no accident.” She angled her chin. Sharper than ever, her eyes blazed. “He might’ve been drinking, but what he did was deliberate. He bumped me once just before the turn. Then he smashed me sideways at the sharpest point in the curve. But why?”
The likely answer weaved like smoke through him, into every crevice, whispering dread. What the hell could he do? Protecting Lani would be a 24/7 job. Not a job he’d risk. To find answers in the cold case, he needed time, and he couldn’t tell her he was eyes and ears on something else for the task force.
Once Burned (Task Force Eagle) Page 3
