"Probably not, but I have to ask. It's something you said the other day when we were talking about your talent—and your past.
Sarah turned away. "You're right. I don't like it."
Jordan tried to think of a way to ease into the subject. Unable to come up with any ideas, he finally decided simply to plunge ahead. "I'm sorry, Sarah, but I have to know. The other day you said your sight sometimes caused threats. Who threatened you?"
"It's nothing. Just goes with the territory." She tried to sound flippant and knew she'd failed when she saw his frown.
"Sarah, it is something, or you wouldn't have mentioned it in the first place. I'm sorry I have to ask. But it could be important."
"Because of this silly idea and you and Sam and T.J. have? I keep telling you, they were just accidents.
"I hope to God you're right and we're wrong, but until we know for sure, humor me. I don't like to play devil's advocate, but if the threats really were unimportant, you wouldn't have mentioned them. Now tell me who and what and when."
She whirled around to face him, the euphoria she'd felt earlier was now completely destroyed. "Most of the time I don't know who," she said bitterly. "As to when, every time I get my name in the paper. Why do you think I hide. Some call me a witch, or the devil's spawn. Some get mad because I don't see enough, or don't see it soon enough, or because I don't see anything at all and they think I'm deliberately not telling. Don't you see? There's no way I can win."
Jordan felt the color drain from his face. Her words hammered at him, each one a separate and distinct body blow. He fought back nausea, realizing for the first time how much harm he could do her. "I didn't know," he protested, knowing he was defending himself, as well as apologizing for putting her through this.
"I told you. No one really understands. I don't want to talk about it anymore."
Jordan gritted his teeth, partly in frustration, partly in disgust at himself, but he couldn't stop now. He had to push her, had to make her tell him—for her own sake. He could only hope she wouldn't hate him.
"Sarah, I'm sorry, but we have to talk about it. You must know something about some of them?"
"Why are you doing this?" she cried, her voice breaking.
"I know you don't want to believe it, but someone's trying to hurt you," Jordan told her. "It's tied to who and what you are. Sarah, you have to tell me. It's for your protection."
Sarah sank into a chair, defeated. "Can't you understand, Jordan? Most of the time I haven't the slightest idea where the threats come from. Unsigned notes, anonymous phone calls."
"You said 'most of the time'. Tell me about the others, the ones you do know."
"You won't give up, will you?" she said, her voice bitter.
"No. Not when you're in danger. Sarah, I care about you. Please tell me. Let me help."
"There is only one... well, maybe two.... Most of the times when I've known who it was, it was the Ewells. But Sam's already said he was going to check on them."
Finally. He was finally beginning to get somewhere. "Who are the Ewells, Sarah?" he asked quietly.
The Ewells live—lived—over in the next county. There's been bad blood between them and my family for generations. I don't know how the trouble started, but it has been going on since before Aunt Cinda was born. Trouble is, there was a blood connection back there somewhere, so the Ewells know what we are—what some of us are, anyway. They were always coming over to ask about things. Aunt Cinda could never see anything and neither could I.
"I don't know if the trouble started because we couldn't see, or if we couldn't see because of the trouble. Anyway, they always blamed us, Aunt Cinda and me, whenever anything went wrong for them. Sometimes they said we caused it. Other times they blamed us for not warning them that something bad was going to happen. It's another of those no-win situations."
"Sounds like the Hatfields and McCoys," Jordan said under his breath.
Something like that," Sarah agreed. "The last trouble was nearly ten years ago. I was still a kid. Over time their family dwindled in size. I think the last of them moved to California several years ago."
"And Sam told you he was going to check on them?"
Sarah nodded.
"Okay. Now, what about the other one? You said you knew about 'maybe two.'"
"I'm not sure."
"Tell me anyway."
Sarah gave in. "When I was in Tulsa about three years ago, I was able to give police some information about a hit-and-run driver and identify a possible witness. The witness wasn't able to tell them much until they put her under hypnosis. Then she gave them the same license number I had given them. The story got out...."
"What happened, Sarah?"
"Personally or legally?" she asked. "My friends started to avoid me. I have never figured out whether it was because they thought I was crazy or because they were afraid it might be catching." The smile she gave him was both bleak and wistful.
"But they caught the driver, matched his car to the accident, and tried and convicted him. He went to jail—despite his claim that his car had been stolen."
"And the threats?" he asked quietly.
Those started after the newspaper story, of course," she said. "Just ugly things. Warning me to keep my devil's work away from decent people. That kind of thing."
Jordan flinched, forced himself to stay calm. "But who do your think was behind them?"
"I thought some of them might have come from the driver or his family. They were all fanatics, hiding behind their brand of religion, and most of the threats were of the devil's spawn variety."
"What did the police say? Did they think there was a connection between the threats and the driver?"
"I didn't tell them."
"Didn't tell— Dear God, Sarah, you need a keeper. Someone threatens you and you don't even report it. Why ever not?"
"There was nothing they could do. No way to prove who it was. And all I needed right then was more—more notoriety."
She turned her head, but not quick enough to prevent Jordan from seeing the tears shimmering on her lashes. Instantly he knew—the man she was dating at the time, the one who'd hurt her so cruelly, so deeply, was one who had walked away. Since that betrayal, she'd carefully channeled her emotions away from the possibility of being hurt again.
The bastard! He had a lot to answer for. Yet Jordan could almost feel sorry for the man. To have won Sarah's love, then thrown it away.
"Sarah—?"
"Are you finished now?"
"Almost," Jordan said softly. "What was the driver's name? And his sentence? Is he still in jail?"
Sarah shook her head. "I don't remember his name. Yes, he should still be in jail. So you see, there can't be any connection."
"I suppose your friend, the sheriff, could—"
"No! Sam doesn't know anything about it, and you are not to tell him."
"Sarah—"
"I mean it, Jordan. There's no reason for Sam to know. He'll just be off on another wild-goose chase. And I'll have to listen to another lecture." Tears welled in her eyes. "There's no reason to tell Sam. I don't want him to find out about— I answered your questions. Promise me you won't tell him, or I'll—I'll—"
Jordan's mind raced through the possibilities. He had a friend in Tulsa he could get to do a little checking. Sarah was probably right. The feuding family sounded like a better prospect. He'd check out Tulsa and let Sam concentrate on the Ewells. At least they'd be covering different territory.
"All right, Sarah. I won't tell Sam, if that's what you want. But I am going to do a little checking myself."
"You'll just be wasting your time."
"It's my time. What were you doing in Tulsa, anyway? I thought you stayed closer to home."
"I was teaching. They offered me a position and I took it. The university in Fayetteville graduates teachers every year. Plus, a lot of experienced teachers return to work on advanced degrees part time, or to work while their spouses do graduate work. There are
usually more teachers than jobs around here. Besides, even though it's too far for a daily commute, Tulsa was close enough to come home on weekends if I wanted to."
"Is that why you're teaching in St. Louis? The local positions were filled?"
Sarah appeared to relax a little, probably thankful he'd stopped grilling her about Tulsa.
"Actually, no," she said. "I took the job in St. Louis because I wanted to try my wings a little. I think I'm getting braver—as long as I can run back here if I need to. St Louis is only about two hundred and fifty miles away."
Try my wings. Jordan's mind captured the phrase and held on tenaciously. Did his little homebody have a secret dollop of wanderlust in her soul after all? The thought was a ray of sunshine penetrating the clouds. Unconsciously his lips curved upward in a smile.
Sarah watched the myriad of emotions cross his face. "What are you thinking now? she asked.
"Wicked thoughts," he said. Then, unable to resist, he gave her a teasing wink and dropped a quick kiss on her forehead.
Sarah's breath caught. "I don't think we should—" The touch of his mouth against hers cut off her words. He kissed her gently, his lips lightly caressing hers, but before she could fully appreciate the contact, he raised his head.
"Don't get me off the subject. You distract me too easily," he growled in mock seriousness, and moved a few inches away, although still retaining her hand in his. His eyes lingered on her face.
Sarah shivered. His gaze, the soft expectant look in his eyes, was short-circuiting her thought processes. Behind his look of exquisite wanting, a look that she suspected was echoed in her own eyes, she could see something else.
"I have an idea," he said suddenly. "Let's go away."
She gave him a startled look, then shook her head.
Jordan had spoken impulsively, but he knew immediately it was a good idea. Whoever was after her knew where she was and knew how to either blend in or to stay out of sight. Until now no one had been looking. He needed to get Sarah out of the way for a while, to break her routine. It might give Sam and T.J. the time they needed.
"Why not?" he asked. "Just for a day or so. Come away with me, Sarah. Please. Three days. A long weekend. We can come back on Monday."
"But where... why?"
"We can go to Eureka Springs. As to why— I can think of several reasons. He bent over her, his lips brushing her cheek.
"Jordan, I can't just..."
"Don't you trust me?"
"No, I mean yes, but I—" she stammered, her look of confusion battling with one of embarrassment.
His low rumbling laugh interrupted her disjointed dialogue. "I shouldn't tease you, but it's hard not to," he told her. "You make such a delightful teasee."
She freed her arm from his grasp and stepped back. Jordan let go.
"The summer home where I'm staying has three bedrooms, with a lock on every one," he said quickly. "You can have your pick—and your choice of single or double accommodations. This isn't a plan for a weekend orgy. I really think it would do you good to get away for a few days. And I—I would enjoy your company."
He'd enjoy her company she thought to herself. Oh, Jordan! To be with him for three uninterrupted days—without worries, without family. The thought was an unexpected glimpse or heaven. Did she dare?
She looked up quickly as a low growling sound escaped his lips. "Jordan, what's wrong?"
"It would be easier on a man if you'd learn to play poker," he said in a shaky voice.
"I don't understand."
"I know," he said, turning to face her. With a deliberate nonchalance, he held out a hand. "So, how about it? Dinner tonight at Basin Park? I promise, Sarah, you won't regret it. We'll have a fantastic time."
Chapter 12
Jordan couldn't be sure when he first suspected they were being watched. He'd developed his ability to recognize when he was under observation along with his skills as a journalist. It was not an uncommon accomplishment in a field that sometimes called for a reporter to remain inconspicuous. However, he was usually alert to the possibility of detection before the warning phenomena triggered alarm. This time the sensation was unanticipated.
Their arrival in Eureka Springs shortly before noon began as planned. Sarah led the way through the downtown area, Jordan automatically taking the side along the curb, placing himself as a buffer between her and the traffic-clogged streets. They wandered hand in hand past the nineteenth century's buildings clinging tenaciously to the side of the mountain.
When they stopped in front of a gallery window containing a wood carving display, Jordan moved directly behind her. Half a block later, at a gallery specializing in stained glass, he found himself intently watching the reflection of the street scene behind them in the polished glass of the shop window. By the time they stopped to rest at one of Eureka Springs' numerous sidewalk pocket parks, he was consciously searching faces in the crowds for anything out of the ordinary.
"What's wrong, Jordan?" Sarah asked. "What are you looking for?"
"Nothing's wrong," he answered, but apparently, the smile accompanying his words was unconvincing. Sarah frowned, her skepticism apparent in her eyes.
He let his gaze move beyond the crowd to the street. Bumper-to-bumper traffic traveled slowly along the winding roadway. None of the vehicles seemed particularly noticeable. They were mostly a collection of the station wagons, pickup trucks and family-size sedans, with an occasional small sporty model sandwiched in between the larger vehicles. For a moment, his gaze rested on a rusty, battered pickup.
Beside him, Sarah tugged at his arm, drawing his attention back to her. "What is it?" she demanded again.
"I thought I saw someone I knew," he told her, wishing she hadn't noticed his preoccupation. Although hunches were supposed to be her field, not his, he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching them.
He stole another quick look at the street. The pickup caught his attention again as it moved out of sight. Had he seen it before? Probably, he thought, answering his own question and managing to produce a small laugh. Eureka Spring's main thoroughfare meandered up and down the steep hillsides, never crossing another street. Most of the traffic in the downtown area seemed to be moving in circles—looking for nonexistent parking places.
He turned to Sarah again. "I'm glad you suggested parking on the outskirts and catching the trolley downtown. It's nice to have a personal tour guide." He pulled her to her feet, bent to deliver a quick kiss to her cheek, and then tucked her hand securely in the crook of his elbow.
Sarah smiled, her mood seemingly lightened and he was surprised to discover his had too.
"Where now?" he asked, trying to control his voice under the onslaught of emotions triggered by her smile.
"Did you know the Basin Park Hotel was built into the side of the mountain so that each story has a street entrance?" she asked. "I've always wanted to go in the first floor, out the second, in the third, all the way to the top."
Jordan grinned. "Sounds like fun. You lead the way." He said, realizing that, as an added bonus, they would also be out of sight part of the time. Moving up the mountain inside a building was a good diversionary tactic.
They exited onto the street from the seventh floor just in time for Jordan to see a rusty pickup moving slowly past the entrance. Was it the same one he'd seen earlier? Had he seen it before today? If so, where? He watched as the vehicle disappear as his mind registering the truck's Oklahoma plates. Unconsciously he placed a protective arm around Sarah's shoulders. He suddenly wished they'd never come to Eureka Springs.
He tried valiantly to recapture the lighthearted mood they'd enjoyed earlier in the day. They inspected the town's quaint craft shops, toured the Gay Nineties Museum and the Queen Anne mansion and mingled with the tourists enjoying impromptu sidewalk concerts. Only at Hatchet Hall did the shadows seem to fade, and that was because the tour of temperance leader Carrie Nation's last home reminded them both of the story of Great-grandfather Wilson and his cornf
ields.
Even the elegant surroundings of the Basin Park Hotel, where they shared a late dinner, failed to diminish the restrained atmosphere between them. It was completely dark before they arrived at the cabin.
Bathed in moonlight, the cabin's weathered logs gave an impression of having been part of the landscape since time began. On closer inspection, Sarah recognized it as one of the prefabricated log houses popular in the area as vacation homes. It blended unobtrusively into the wooded surroundings on a hill overlooking a quiet stretch of the Kings River.
Jordan unlocked the door, reached inside and flipped a light switch, then stood aside as Sarah stepped into the mountain hideaway. The soft glow from the single burning lamp gave the interior a warm golden hue. Country-casual furniture formed a conversation grouping in front of a freestanding fireplace at one end of the room. Cotton rag rugs covered the wood-pegged floors. The room radiated a sense of peace.
Sarah collapsed into the nearest cushioned chair, pulled her sandals from her feet and began massaging an instep. "I should have worn hiking boots," she said wearily. "Now you know why they call Eureka Springs Little Switzerland."
"Sarah—"
She shook her head and, refusing to look at him, leaned back in the chair, her eyes closed. "Give me a minute," she begged. "Right now I'm too tired even to talk." Even with her eyes closed, she knew his eyes were on her. She could feel his gaze. She forced her breathing to remain slow and steady while her mind raced in confusing circles.
Sarah had welcomed the plans for a weekend away with hat-over-the-moon expectations. It was the forbidden apple, the brass ring, the ultimate fantasy getaway. Now, faced with the reality of her and Jordan alone without the restraining presence of others around them, she felt her euphoria dissolving. The beginning of their tour of Eureka Springs had been perfect. They'd been like two kids unexpectedly let out of school. Then something happened. Sarah didn't know what. Had she made a mistake in coming here with him? What did he expect of her now?
Jordan watched her from across the room, his gut twisting in response to the look he now saw on her face. Quietly he picked up her overnight case and went down the hall, knowing if he didn't leave the room, he'd be carrying her to his bed in another moment. She needed time, peace and safety. Most of all, safety.
Stranger on the Shore Page 16
