„I’ve got enough of a financial cushion that I can afford to take my time,“ she told him, her eyes on the majestic mountains that rose straight up from the edge of the highway. Small waterfalls spilled over outcroppings of granite. A crystal-clear stream followed the path of the highway on one side. Heavily timbered terrain stretched endlessly in front of the car. It was hard to believe such mountain grandeur lay so close to the heart of a cosmopolitan city. „But I’ll get restless if I sit around too long trying to make up my mind about what I really want to do with my life.“
„Any ideas?“
„Well…“ She hesitated realizing that she hadn’t discussed her tentative plans with anyone else, not even her family. „I’ve been thinking of going into your old line of work.“
Adrian’s bead came around in a sudden, unexpected movement. „My old line?“
She nodded, smiling. „That probably seems odd to you, but to tell you the truth, I think I’d be a fairly good management consultant. I’d like the opportunity to be my own boss, though. I wouldn’t want to work for a firm of consultants. And I’d pick and choose my contracts. I know it sounds like a contradiction in terms, Adrian, but even though I don’t like working within an organization, I do have a flair for management techniques that work in an organization. It’s one of the reasons I hesitated so long about quitting my last job. I was good at it in a lot of ways.“
Adrian’s attention was back on the road ahead. „I don’t think it sounds like a contradiction. A lot of people can give objective advice about things they wouldn’t want to make a living doing.“
„It would take a long time to build a clientele,“ Sara said slowly.
„I know the feeling. It will take a long time to build a writing career.“
„But I do have some good contacts who would be glad to recommend me to companies looking for a consultant,“ Sara went on more enthusiastically.
„And I’ve sold my first book. Sounds like we both have a toehold on the future,“ Adrian said with the first hint of a smile that day.
Sara grinned. „Assuming we both don’t wind up in jail because one of Uncle Lowell’s neighbors sees us breaking into his cottage!“
It was shortly after noon by the time Adrian pulled into the drive of Lowell Kincaid’s mountain cabin. They had stopped for lunch at a small roadside caf6 en route.
The weatherworn house was one of a number of such cottages scattered about the forested landscape. Many were filled with summer visitors but a few, such as the one just over the next rise, were owned by permanent residents. Lowell Kincaid liked his privacy, however, and had purchased a cottage that was not within sight of the next house. Unless his nearest neighbor happened by on a casual walk, no one would notice two people jimmying the back window, Sara told herself.
„Have you ever done this before?“ Adrian asked blandly as he climbed out of the BMW and stood surveying the cottage.
„I got into your place, didn’t I?“ Sara reminded him.
„The front door was unlocked, remember?“
„You should probably start locking it,“ she told him seriously.
„You can’t be too careful these days.’’
„I’ll try to remember to do it,“ he said dryly. „Now, about this little business…“
„Well, I’ll admit I have no direct experience of prying open a window, but how hard can it be? People break into houses all the time.“
„And occasionally get shot doing so.“
Sara gave him a bright smile. „Maybe we should knock on the front door first, just to make certain no one’s home.“
„Good idea.“
Adrian strode to the front door of the cottage and pounded loudly. There was no response. There was also no sign of Lowell’s car.
„Looks like we’ll have to do this the hard way,“ Adrian observed morosely. „We’ll probably wreck the window and Lowell will send me the bill.“
Sara started around the corner of the house looking for a window at the right height and of the right size. „Don’t be so pessimistic. I brought you along to help and to lend moral support, not to paint a picture of doom and gloom.“
„It’s just that I have this image of Lowell coming home and finding his window broken. He won’t be pleased.“
„I’ll leave a note,“ Sara offered as she stopped in front of an appropriate window. „What do you think about this one?“
Adrian frowned and stepped forward to examine it more closely. „I guess it’s as good as any of the others. We’ll need something to jimmy it with. Maybe the jack handle in the car. I’ll go see what I can find.“ He swung around and then halted abruptly, staring at the next window on the side of the cottage. „Well, hell.“
„What’s wrong?“ Sara turned to follow his gaze. „I don’t…“
„Looks like someone else has been here ahead of us,“ Adrian said softly.
Sara peered more intently. „Do you really think…oh.“ For the first time she felt a distinct chill of unease. It was obvious the window had been crudely but effectively forced open. The frame was badly marked from whatever instrument had been used, and the window itself was still half raised. „Vandals?“
Adrian was examining the damage. He didn’t look around. „Surely you’re not going to be satisfied with the notion that a couple of young punks broke into your uncle’s house. Not after all the exotic mischief and mayhem you’ve been imagining.“
„Don’t be sarcastic. What are you doing?“
„I’m going inside to have a look.“ Adrian shoved the window completely open and casually swung a kg over the sill.
„Wait!“ Sara grabbed for his arm. „What if someone’s still in there?“ she hissed.
He glanced inside the house and shook his head. „The place is empty.“
„You can’t be sure. It’s very dangerous to corner burglars in a house. You’re supposed to go call the cops before going inside.“
„Is that right?“ Adrian said vaguely. Then he swung his other leg over the sill and dropped lightly to the floor inside.
Annoyed, Sara leaned through the window to lecture him further. But the words caught in her throat as she took in the chaos of the room. „Oh, my God.“
„Item.“ Adrian walked past a bookcase that had been ransacked and came to a halt in front of the old roll-top desk.
Feeling stunned, Sara followed him through the window. Inside the house she stood staring in speechless dismay as Adrian examined the desk. She remembered the desk well. She had helped Lowell select it at a junk shop in Seattle. Her uncle had spent hours ref hushing it.
Now the surface was a jumble of strewn papers, books and magazines. The drawers had been unceremoniously hauled open and emptied. Folders of personal business papers had been tossed on the floor along with a notebook of Lowell Kincaid’s sketches.
Infuriated more than anything else by the way the sketchbook had been dumped on the well-worn Oriental rug, Sara bent down to retrieve it. „Stupid bastards,“ she muttered as she tried to smooth the pages and close the cover. „Whoever it was just wanted to make a mess. I thought we had all the mental flakes down in California.“
„We have a few up here in the Northwest.“ Adrian walked slowly through the living room into the adjoining kitchen. „Looks like someone really enjoyed himself.“
„It’s sick.“ Sara wrinkled her nose at the smell of decaying food. The contents of the refrigerator had been thrown against the walls. „Absolutely sick.“
„Or else someone wanted it to look that way,“ Adrian murmured slowly.
Sara swung around to stare at him wide-eyed. „Good heavens, I hadn’t thought of that. That’s a possibility, isn’t it? Whoever broke in might have deliberately tried to make it look like the work of vandals. That way no one would be able to figure out what he or she had been looking for.“
„On the other hand, it might have really been a couple of genuine vandals.“ Adrian shrugged, moving on into the single bedroom.
„Make
up your mind!“ Sara hurried after him.
„How can I? I don’t know what’s going on here any more than you do.“
„Good point.“ Sara couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice. „Given that basic fact, I guess we’d better go find the local police or sheriff or whatever passes for the law here.“
Adrian paid no attention to her. He was looking at the phone-answering machine that still sat on the table beside the bed. Whoever had gone through the room yanking open drawers and closet doors had ignored the telephone. The red light was gleaming, indicating a message had been recorded.
„The message on there is probably from me,“ Sara said quietly. „The one I left when I called him a couple of days ago to let him know I would be arriving. There was no answer, so I just kept driving.“
Adrian pressed the button that rewound the tape. The first voice on the machine was Sara’s, as she had predicted.
„Uncle Lowell? I’m driving up from California to see you. Just wanted you to know I took your advice. Mom and Dad are in a deep depression over the whole thing but I think they’ll survive. Maybe they’re getting used to my life-style changes. Personally, I feel great. You were right. See you tomorrow.“
Sara caught her breath when she heard the next voice on the tape. Her uncle’s easy growl was as unconcerned and laconic as ever.
„Adrian, if you and Sara are the ones listening to this, then you’ll have realized I have a small problem on my hands. I can’t explain everything just now but don’t worry. We’ll talk later. Pay attention to me. This isn’t anything I can’t handle but I need a little time and privacy. Some unfinished business regarding your wedding present, I’m afraid. It’s tough enough to find just the right gift for a special couple like you and Sara. I didn’t realize it would be even harder to protect it. Do me a favor and don’t bother the local cops. This is a personal matter. Oh, and Adrian, Sara tends to have a rather vivid imagination and she doesn’t handle waiting very well. A distinct lack of patience in that woman at times. I heard her message on the tape when I phoned to leave my own. I know she’s on her way here and when she doesn’t find me she’ll probably look you up. Which, of course, explains why you’re standing there listening to this tape. Aren’t you impressed with my wondrous logic?“ There was a rough chuckle. „Take care of her for me and keep her out of trouble until I get back. I’ll see you as soon as I can.“
The tape wound on into silence while Sara stood utterly still, staring at the machine in astonishment and dread. „Wedding gift?“ she finally got out very weakly.
Adrian punched the stop button. „I told you Lowell had plans for us,“ he reminded her dryly.
„Adrian, none of this makes any sense!“
„Yes, it does.“ Adrian turned to look at her. His light eyes were unreadable, but the set of his harsh features was intently serious. „Lowell says that whatever’s going on is private business. He’ll take care of it. He doesn’t want any help or he’d ask for it. And he wants me to keep you from getting involved. I’m supposed to take care of you. It all seems clear enough to me.“
„Don’t be ridiculous. There is nothing clear about this mess.“ Sara spun around and stalked back into the living room. „Damn Uncle Lowell anyway. Why couldn’t he have left a simple straightforward message or called you and told you exactly what was going on?“ She headed toward the rifled desk. „Just like him to leave a lot of questions lying around for us to try to answer.“
„He says it’s a private matter. He doesn’t want us involved. He probably didn’t call because he didn’t want to alarm us unnecessarily. On the other hand, he figured if we got this far he’d better leave some sort of message.“ Adrian followed her on silent feet, stopping to examine the stack of books that had been stripped from the bookcase.
„If it’s such a personal matter, what was that business about protecting our wedding present?“ Sara shot him a scathing glance as she began picking up the scattered magazines that had been spilled from an end table. Lowell Kincaid was an inveterate magazine reader. Sara had frequently teased him about the number of subscriptions he maintained.
„You know your uncle. There are times when he simply can’t resist throwing out a teaser.“ Adrian seemed unconcerned.
„It’s his unfortunate sense of humor, I suppose.“ Sara sighed and shuffled a stack of insurance papers. „Adrian, this whole thing is going to drive me crazy. How are we going to know he’s all right?“
„We won’t until he gets back. But I’ve told you before, Sara. Your uncle can take care of himself.“
„I don’t like that comment about ‘unfinished business,’“ she went on unhappily. „It sounds dangerous. Like something from his past coming back to haunt him.“
„Lowell was right. You do have an active imagination.“
„Well?“ she challenged. „How would you interpret that message?“
„Like something from his past that has come back to haunt him,“ Adrian admitted in resigned tones. He picked up a stack of books and put them back on the shelf. „The real problem is that food on the walls in the kitchen. That’s going to be a mess to clean. It’s going to take quite a while, too.“
„Stop changing the subject! This is important. We have to figure out what’s going on.“ Sara frowned intently down at the papers in her hand. Predictably enough, many of them, even the most important-looking ones, contained small sketches and doodles. Lowell Kincaid was forever covering books, papers and notepads with his drawings. He did them almost unconsciously, Sara knew. He could be talking about one thing and sketching a totally unrelated subject. She remembered once having coffee with him in a restaurant and discussing her growing dissatisfaction with her latest job. Lowell had carried on a detailed and logical conversation while making comical character sketches on a napkin of the people in the next booth. „What do you suppose whoever did this was looking for?“
„That’s something we can’t even guess until Lowell shows up.“
„Except that we know it has something to do with our so-called wedding gift,“ Sara muttered in growing annoyance. „What in the world could Uncle Lowell have been talking about?“
„If he’d wanted us to know, he would have told us.“
„You’re awfully casual about this, Adrian.“ Sara glared at him over her shoulder.
„I know your uncle very well, Sara,“ Adrian said. „He doesn’t want us getting involved.“
She ignored that, her sandaled foot tapping impatiently under the desk. Thoughtfully Sara stared out the window toward a stand of fir. „He said he’d already gotten the gift. Now he has to protect it.“
„Something like that.“ Adrian reshelved another batch of books.
„So whoever did this must have been looking for whatever Uncle Lowell calls our wedding present.“
„Are you going to give me a hand cleaning up the kitchen?“
„You know, Uncle Lowell once told me he believed in the old theory that the best hiding place was the one that was in full view. People really do tend to overlook the obvious. He says answers are always quite clear when you know where to look.“ She glanced around the room with narrowed eyes. „He’d had some experience along those lines. He ought to know what he’s talking about.“
Adrian went into the kitchen. „If whoever made this mess didn’t find what he was looking for, the odds are you won’t find it, either. It may not even be here. Or Lowell might have removed it and hidden it somewhere else. Or this chaos might really be the work of casual vandals who happened on an empty cabin. A coincidence. Sara, we don’t have a clue. There’s no point beating our heads against a stone wall. Let your uncle take care of his own business.“
Sara heard water running in the kitchen sink. Reluctantly she put down the stack of insurance papers and got to her feet. Adrian was right. They should clean up the kitchen first.
„Uncle Lowell said he was thinking of putting in a fancy alarm system. Too bad he didn’t get around to it in time to prevent this,“ she
commented.
„I know. I was going to help him install it,“ Adrian said from the kitchen.
Sara took a step forward and her toe brushed a thick sheaf of papers that had been lying on the floor beside the chair. The pile of neatly typed pages was still bound with a rubber band. Automatically she leaned down to pick it up. Halfway down the first page a single word, underlined, leaped out at her. Phantom.
„Adrian! Here’s a copy of your manuscript,“ she called, aware of a surging sense of interest in what she held. Curiously she flipped through a handful of pages.
„I think I mentioned that I had given a copy to Lowell,“ Adrian said softly from the doorway of the kitchen.
„Would you mind if I.;.?“ Sara’s request to read the manuscript died on her lips as she looked at the penciled sketch in the right-hand corner of the first page. There were other doodles at the bottom of the page, but it was the one at the top that made her grow cold.
The drawing had been done hurriedly, but Lowell Kincaid’s talent lay in the quick character sketch. Strong, simple lines defined the figure in only a few brief strokes. It was the head of a wolf.
„No,“ Sara whispered as she stared at the drawing. „Oh, no.“
„Sara? What’s wrong?“ Adrian tossed aside the sponge he had been holding and came toward her, his expression one of grave concern.
Feeling decidedly unnerved, Sara sank back down into the desk chair and looked up at him. „See that drawing on your manuscript?“
Adrian glanced at the page and then back at her strained face. „What about it? Your uncle is always doodling and sketching. You know that.“ He leaned down to flip through the rubber-band-bound stack. „Look. There are little drawings on nearly all the pages.“
„I know. But this is more than just an idle sketch.“ She swallowed, struggling to remember details. „There was a real wolf in his past, you see. A renegade killer. Never mind, it’s a long story. Uncle Lowell told me about him one night over a few drinks.“ Dazedly she stared down at the drawing. „Adrian, if this is the ‘unfinished business’ my uncle is taking care of, he’s in real trouble. We’ve got to do something.“
The Waiting Game Page 4
