Stranger on the Shore

by Carol Duncan Perry

  Fraud. Fake. Hoax. Swindle. Words from the headlines jumped out at her, laughing. How could she have been so wrong?

  Sarah dragged her eyes from the scattered papers, looking blindly out the windshield. Waves of heat rose from the paved surfaces, curving and distorting distinct lines into illusory images. Sarah blinked as the recognized the figure walking toward her from the opposite side of the street. Instinctively she turned the key in the ignition. She couldn't talk to T.J. Not now. She couldn't talk to anyone.

  The engine coughed once, then roared to life. Sarah quickly steered the car away from the curb, forced her lips into a semblance of a smile and gave her cousin a wave as she drove past.

  The numbness dissolved as she drove the familiar route home. Yet her anguish failed to blank out the vision of Jordan's face, loving and tender, as she'd last seen him. False. All false. The memory intensified her sense of betrayal. She tried to create a scenario to account for his treachery and finally admitted she couldn't.

  Jordan came to Mountain Springs to find her, to expose her, and to add another clipping to his portfolio. The conclusion was inescapable. He'd tracked her from St. Louis through Hoyston. He'd invaded her sanctuary, her trust, her life, and finally destroyed her last place of refuge.

  It must have been a frustrating summer for him. No exciting mysteries to solve. Nothing spectacular happening to expose her talents. She'd had a good rest with not even a hint of a premonition concerning the disaster sitting on her doorstep. Not that she'd expected one. As usual, her so-called gift didn't operate in matters of self-preservation.

  Sarah blinked back the tears blurring her vision. Even without special knowledge, she should have known it was all a lie. The world she'd found in Jordan's arms wasn't meant for her or her kind. She'd had proof of that before.

  Jordan chose a good red herring in Monte Ne. She wondered if he'd heard of the old resort before arriving or simply stumbled across it in his search for her and seized the opportunity it presented. What did it matter? What did anything matter?

  She was grateful for the emptiness of the farmhouse when she finally arrived home. It would take only one look at her face for the family to realize something was drastically wrong. They would accept her betrayal as their own. She hoped she'd be able to keep the worst of Jordan's sins from them, but in her present state of mind, she knew she'd be unable to hide anything. The wounds were too fresh, the hurt too new.

  She never wanted them to know how deeply she'd come to care for Jordan, how completely she'd given her heart to him. Sharing this anguish would only cause them pain and would do nothing to alleviate hers. But, dear God, what was she going to do?

  Sarah paced the front room as tears streamed unchecked down her cheeks. If only she knew what he was planning, then perhaps she could try to protect herself and her family from the worst of the notoriety. How long did she have to prepare? When would his story be published?

  The heat of her first anger rekindled brightly, then solidified into an ice-cold rage. To say he loved her—to make love to her—only to add another clipping to his collection. That was wrong.

  Okay. He'd never told her he loved her. At least he'd spared her that, but the rest....

  Sarah struggled to bring herself under control. Wherever he was, Jordan would return to the cabin sooner or later. She'd go there and wait until he showed up. It would be better to confront him away from Mountain Springs. She'd make her tell her his plans, and she'll tell him face-to-face exactly what she thought of him.

  Her courage deserted her momentarily she saw his SUV parked on the road above the cabin. The anguish caused by his betrayal resurfaced full force. Desperately she fought to regain control. Her hands, damp with perspiration, clutched the folder that reminded her anew of Jordan's treachery.

  The cabin remained silent when Sarah knocked on the front door. With her heart in her throat, she knocked again, louder this time. Seconds later the door was thrown open by Jordan. He was clad only in a pair of well-worn cutoffs, feet and legs bare, water still clinging to his naked chest. The moisture in his hair and the towel thrown casually over his shoulder told the story of his interrupted shower. She blinked, drinking in the sight of him. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to keep her eyes dry.

  "Sarah."

  He made her name sound like a caress. She swallowed, tilting her chin to look up into his face.

  He stood aside to allow her enter, reaching out at the same time to pull her to him. "I was on my way to the farm as soon as I finished showering."

  At the touch of his hand on her arm, Sarah jerked away. His hand dropped. She felt his eyes examine her face, saw his startled expression.

  "Sarah? What's wrong?"

  Mutely Sarah thrust the folder at him, careful to avoid any physical contact. He gave her a puzzled look and took the folder in one hand, opening it with the other. She watched as the color drained from his face.

  "Oh, damn!" He looked up, a strange pleading expression in his eyes. "Sarah, I never meant..."

  "I'm sure you didn't. When was I supposed to find out? When I read it in the papers?" Her voice was expressionless. It sounded strange, foreign, even to her.

  "You don't understand. I didn't mean to—"

  "I understand perfectly, Jordan. This is why you came here. You followed me here from St. Louis for a story—another exposé for your files. Isn't that what you do? Write exposés on psychic frauds? Your credits are impressive."

  "No," he said. "I mean, yes, I write them. But it's just a sideline. I usually do them on my vacations—"

  "Just a sideline! A way to spend a vacation—" Her voice broke. She turned her back to him, struggling to regain her composure. She knew the moment Jordan stepped closer, knew he was reaching out for her. She flinched. "Don't touch me." She whirled around to face him again. "I couldn't stand it if you touched me."

  Jordan backed away, his hand still extended toward her.

  "Why, Jordan?" she asked him. "I trusted you. You made me trust you. Wasn't that enough? Did you have to make me fall in love with you, too? Is this how you do it? How you get all those little nitty-gritty details?" Her voice quavered. She took a deep gulp of air in an effort to steady it. "Did I measure up? Make an exciting story?"

  Jordan's arm dropped, the knuckles showing white across the top of his clenched fist. "I'm not— I didn't write a story about you."

  "I wonder why I don't believe you," she said, unable to hide the bitterness in her voice.

  "Sarah! Look at me. Listen to me. There is no story. Why would I lie? I've never lied to you."

  "Never lied to me?" she repeated rhetorically. "You said you came here to do a story about Monte Ne. All the time you were here, you were here to—" She shook her head. "Your dictionary has strange definitions."

  "I did write a story on Monte Ne. I told you, it's scheduled for publication next month. My agent sold it to a newspaper syndicate."

  "It doesn't matter, she said, her voice once again expressionless.

  "No, I guess it doesn't. All right, I'll admit I didn't tell you the whole truth, but I didn't lie. Please believe me, Sarah. After I got to know you I knew I couldn't do that story. I never intended to hurt you."

  She stood mute in front of him, her eyes wide, shining with unshed tears. "And pigs can fly. I've heard that before too."

  "I mean it, Sarah. I was going to tell you about this." The folder shook in his hand. "But I couldn't find the right time and... and somehow it didn't see important."

  "The right time? I'll believe that part. There's never a right time to tell someone you're going to betray them."

  "I didn't mean it that way. It was just that the time we've had together... We had more important things to talk about, to do, than discuss some stories I once wrote. Those stories have nothing to do with our relationship."

  "Didn't they? I don't see it that way."

  Jordan pushed the folder toward her. "Did you read them, Sarah? Did you read any of them?"

 
She nodded her head slowly. "Some," she said.

  "Those people were frauds. Everyone of them—conniving, grasping people taking advantage of others. I know. There's no hearsay in any of those stories. I personally investigated. Every one of them deserved to be exposed."

  "And that's why you came here. You came here to investigate me—personally. I asked you before—did I measure up?"

  "You're not a fraud." He took a deep breath, then stepped toward her. "You're real, Sarah, the realest, most important person I've ever met. I'll be forever sorry you learned about those stories the way you did. My fault. If you'd found out any other way... if I'd told you, explained, it wouldn't have mattered. It doesn't really matter. In a little while, it won't matter. Not to us. Trust me...."

  "I... I can't." She gave him an anguished look and slipped out the door, all but running toward the road.

  "Sarah," Jordan called, starting after her. He reached the edge of the porch, but then, seeing the panicked look she threw over her shoulder, he stopped. His pain nearly doubled him over as he watched her jerk open the door of the truck. He remained where he was, in plain sight, until he was sure she saw him, saw that he wasn't trying to follow her.

  "Think about it, Sarah. Please. I won't follow you now," he called after her. "But this isn't the end. I'll be back."

  His shoulders sagged as he turned to go back into the cabin. He couldn't afford to chase her, couldn't have her driving panic-stricken on these curving mountain roads trying to get away from him. He'd give her a few minutes head start, then follow at a discreet distance. He had to make sure she arrived home safely. And he'd give her a little time to work things out by herself before he tried to see her again. He wasn't giving up. She'd understand. She had to understand. Didn't she know she was his whole life?

  * * *

  Jordan avoided stopping at the Shield's farmhouse. He spotted the tailgate of T.J.'s battered pickup by the larger barn and parked the SUV on the side of the driveway outside the double gate. He wasn't particularly looking forward to this confrontation, but he had no choice. T.J. was the only one who could do the job. If, he reminded himself, he could get him to listen.

  T.J had evidently heard him arrive. He met Jordan at the door of the barn. "Get out of here, Matthias. I've got nothing to say to you. Better, in fact, if you just get out of town. There's nothing for you here."

  It was the type of greeting Jordan had been expecting. Still, he had to try. "I'm going to talk to you. And like it or not , you're going to listen. Then I'll leave," he told the angry man. "I can't get near Sarah. She won't listen to me anyway. So you're elected. Someone has to stay on guard."

  T.J. stabbed his pitchfork into the ground. "We'll take care of Sarah. It's nothing to you. Aren't you satisfied yet? Haven't you hurt her enough?"

  Jordan grimaced. He'd never intended for Sarah to discover his original reason for finding her the way she had, but that hadn't lessened her feelings of betrayal. The argument wasn't one likely to impress her cousin, either. "I never meant to hurt Sarah, whatever you think."

  "You could have fooled me. Anything for a story, right, Mr. Matthias?"

  "It wasn't like that," Jordan protested.

  "Can't say as I can tell the difference. Sarah, either. You hurt her. Hurt her in the one place where we can't give her much help. Maybe you didn't do it deliberately. But around here we say the road to hell's paved with good intentions. I reckon it just got a new coat of asphalt. Get out of here, Matthias, before I forget I promised Sarah I wouldn't tear you limb from limb."

  Sarah had interceded to keep T.J. from attacking him? Jordan experienced a surge of hope, then realized she was probably hoping to protect her cousin, not him. "I'm not writing a story about Sarah," he said.

  "That don't forgive the intent."

  "Look, T.J., this isn't getting us anywhere. Inadvertently, I hurt Sarah. That's something she and I have to deal with—something we'll have to work out together. But even as mixed-up and hurt as she is now, she doesn't accuse me of trying to harm her physically. I didn't push that concrete block down on top of her. And I didn't throw her into a corral with a mad bull. Someone did. Or do you think they were simple accidents?"

  Jordan could see some of the belligerence fading from T.J.'s face. He forced himself to stay quiet, to wait for the man to speak.

  "No. I don't think they were accidents. Not that crazy tourist, either. Not now."

  "Tourist? What crazy—? Damn it, has something else happened? Is Sarah all right?"

  "I'm talking about the trip over Bald Mountain the day I came after her, when you and she were on the bluff. Didn't she tell you about it?"

  "No, she never mentioned it. What happened?," Jordan demanded.

  "Someone tried to run us off the side of the mountain. At the time I thought it was just some damn fool tourist. It was only after... after the other incidents that I..."

  Jordan nodded. "I know. One mishap—an accident. Two? Maybe coincidence. But the last one, that couldn't have been accidental. And that makes the others suspect."

  "Yeah, that's the way I see it." T.J. studied the dusty scuffed toe of his boot for a minute, the frown on his face an obvious sign of indecision. When he looked back up, Jordan was relieved to see that the animosity in his eyes had faded a little.

  "So," he drawled, "what do you plan to do now?"

  Jordan let out a slow sigh of relief. "I'm going to Tulsa. You'll have to keep a close eye on Sarah. If you can arrange it, don't let her off the farm by herself. Talk to Sam. He'll cooperate with you. I think he's finally convinced I'm not the villain of the piece. At least not that particular villain. But I can't protect her twenty-four hours a day. The family can."

  T.J.'s eyes narrowed. "Tulsa? Sarah ran into trouble there several years ago."

  "I know. That's why I'm going. I tried a few long-distance questions. Didn't get the answers I needed."

  "Don't go digging around and hurt her any more than she already has been."

  Jordan gave him a keen look, recognizing that he had once again aroused T.J.'s distrust. "Do you know what happened?"

  "Not the details," T.J. admitted. "There was a man. The newspapers got hold of her. I think it's all mixed together. It knocked the props out from under her. One week she was happy. A couple of weeks later she came home—injured. It was almost as bad as this time," he added, not bothering to disguise his antagonism.

  Jordan winced, then reminded himself that what was done was done. The job now was to repair the damage. And to protect Sarah. "Did she tell you about the threats?"

  Surprise was on his side this time. He watched the color drain from T.J's face.

  "Threats? In Tulsa? Blast it! She never said a thing about threats. Sam should have told us, if she didn't."

  "Sam doesn't know. Or at least he doesn't know Sarah has an idea who made them. Evidently she goes through this kind of thing every time she's exposed. I promised her I wouldn't tell Sam." He gave T.J. a speculative look. "The threats were involved somehow with publicity about a hit-and-run accident. I don't know if there was any connection or if there's any connection now. Apparently she didn't tell anyone, not even the police, because she said it was just an idea. She had no proof. It's pretty slim, but at least I can find out if the man's still in jail. And if anything happens while I'm gone..."

  Jordan hesitated. If Sarah found out he'd discussed this with T.J. would she consider it another breach of faith? He'd already betrayed her once, but he'd told T.J. too much not to continue. If Sarah added this to his list of crimes, he'd have to deal with that later. Someone had to know. T.J. was the logical one. Besides, he doubted if anything could make his relationship with Sarah any worse than it was now.

  "Look, T.J. I promised Sarah I wouldn't tell Sam about the threats. But you didn't. Tell him about the threats and the hit and run driver. He'll have to get the rest out of Sarah."

  T.J. gave Jordan a hard look. "It's a pretty slim lead, isn't it?"

  Jordan nodded. "Yes. The Ewells s
ound more likely to me. But Sam's checking that out."

  "If any of them are around here, they're staying well out of sight," T.J. said. "'Course, they know this country like the back of their hands. But if one of them is hanging around here, one of us will spot him soon enough."

  "I wouldn't know a Ewell if I tripped over him," Jordan said. "That's why I'm going to Tulsa. At least I'll be doing something, even if it's only eliminating possibilities. I keep remembering how Sarah looked when she talked about the threats. Then I remember that damn truck. Since both are Oklahoma connected, maybe..." He shrugged his shoulders and raised his hands, palms up. "It's not much to go on, but I can't stand just waiting around."

  "Wait a minute," T.J. said. "What'd you mean?

  "I said it's not much to go on—"

  "No, not that. About a truck? What'd you mean?"

  Jordan shrugged. "Probably nothing. I've seen an old truck around a couple of times. I can't be sure it was the same one every time. There was a pickup with Oklahoma plates at the ruins that day of the accident. It took me a while to remember that. And that was because I kept seeing it, or one similar to it, when we were in Eureka Springs."

  "The same truck? Describe it."

  Jordan was a bit surprised, then cautiously optimistic at the sound of repressed anticipation in T.J.'s voice.

  "Older model. Battered. Rusty. Pretty beat-up, in fact. I'm not even sure I can tell you the original color, except it was dark. There was nothing particular to distinguish it from half a dozen of others I've seen around here, not even the Oklahoma plates—except that it was a little older than most and still running. That's why I think it might have been the same one. Why? Does it mean anything to you?"

  T.J. nodded. "It might. That crazy tourist, I thought he was driving an old pickup. But he went by so fast I couldn't tell for sure. What happened in Eureka Springs? Sarah didn't s ayanything. Why'd you notice it?"