by Leona Karr
The adjoining front room was equally stark. Furniture resembling bargains offered at secondhand stores indicated Brad’s indifference to style and harmony. The complete lack of color and decoration assaulted Ashley’s aesthetic senses. Color, texture, and design were such a part of her existence that once again she felt a stab of disappointment that they had so little in common. How could she live with a man who was blind to the sensual pleasures that were so important to her?
The only redeeming feature of the living room was a large picture window overlooking the ocean. He’d set a table outside on a small patio. A lovely view of the ocean made up for the stark interior of the house.
He poured them each a glass of burgundy wine and then sat down, stretching his long legs out in front of him in a languid way that made her more conscious than ever of his masculinity.
“You’re not a vegetarian, are you?” he asked. “I thought I’d fix us a couple of porterhouse steaks.”
“Sounds good.”
As they sipped their wine, he asked, “Do you miss the city all that much?”
“Not at the moment,” she admitted. “But I don’t think I’d appreciate a steady diet of wind, water and fog for very long. I grew up in New York City and there’s an addictive energy about crowds, noise and the ever-changing scenes.” She had to make him understand. “I guess you either like it or you don’t.”
“I never did enjoy living on the mainland,” he admitted. “Police work is demanding anywhere, but especially in the city. I could hardly wait to get back to Greystone.”
“I’ve lived on both coasts and wouldn’t mind trying Seattle or Chicago. If my business expands the way I hope, I’ll probably rack up a fortune in frequent-flier miles.”
“I’d bet you’ll reach any goal you set. I don’t think you’ll get sidetracked.” He got to his feet. “Well, I guess I’d better put on those steaks.”
“Do you need some help?”
“No, just enjoy the peace and quiet, and take some of it back to California with you.” There was a kind of dismissal in what he was saying.
He disappeared into the house and Ashley sank back in her chair, wondering why tears were close. She tried to remember why she’d felt so pleased about the possibility she’d found some new business outlets. All of that seemed hollow now.
What are you going to do about it?
The answer seemed simple. She wouldn’t think beyond the few days that were left.
He brought out full plates of steak, corn and sliced tomatoes. He seemed a little surprised when she ate heartily and murmured, “Delicious.”
“Would you like seconds?” he asked as he eyed her nearly empty plate. “There’s only blueberries and cream for dessert…with coffee.”
“Perfect. I love blueberries.”
“Really? It’s too bad you’re not here during the picking season.”
He shared stories with her about berry-hunting trips on the island. She could picture him as a gangling youngster darting about, trying to fill his pail before any of the others did. “The island has a lot to offer a young boy,” he told her.
His brown eyes softened when he reminisced about his first homemade boat that came apart on its maiden voyage.
“My career as a seafaring adventurer was short-lived, but I’ve always loved the water. Would you like to see my favorite place in all the world?”
When she nodded, he stood up and held out his hand. His long legs easily mounted the piles of tumbled rocks along the rugged shoreline, and she fought a sense of vertigo as they climbed to a pinnacle of granite boulders that overlooked a sheer drop to the sea below.
“Now that’s a view,” he said proudly.
A terrifying one, she thought as she tried to smile in agreement.
“Have a seat.”
Cautiously, she eased down on the rock slab beside him. Layers of huge granite slabs descended abruptly down to the water’s edge, and she tried not to focus on the rolling breakers assaulting the sheer drop below.
“I climb up here when I need to get my head together about something…or someone.” He glanced at her as if she might be included in the latter category. “What do you think?”
She put her hands flat down on the rock to make sure it wasn’t sliding out from under her.
“Impressive,” she managed to say.
“You’re looking a little pale.” He put his arm around her waist. “Don’t you like heights?”
“I can take the Empire State Building in my stride,” she answered a little defensively.
He chuckled. “I’m not sure I could. Frankly, I’ve never had the urge to see New York from that perspective. This is more to my liking. I’ve come out here at dawn, midday, twilight and midnight. It’s my private sanctuary.” He paused. “I’ve never brought anyone here before. Why do you think that is?”
“I don’t know,” she answered, too quickly. Was he exploring? Wanting some kind of commitment from her? If so, she had none to give.
He obviously wanted to share the rich natural treasures of the island with her. Eagerly, he identified many of the birds that came into view.
“Those are black guillimots. There’s a tern. That handsome fellow is an osprey.”
Even the smallest plant nestled in cracks on the rocky hillside didn’t escape his attention. He pointed out patches of laurel, rockwood and kelp left at high tide. He seemed in total harmony with his environment and clearly was reluctant to leave until the approaching twilight put the hillside in shadow.
Once he put his arm around her, she resisted the temptation to respond to this tenuous invitation to the impulsive kiss he had given her at the ferry dock. How could she trust herself to keep things on an even keel if she let down her guard? She didn’t even look at him as she drew away and he dropped his arm from her shoulder.
When they returned to the house, she insisted on helping with the cleanup, and it was nearly nine o’clock before they got into the car to go back to the Langdons’.
“I don’t suppose you’d like to take a ride with me in the morning? I need to take some photographs of an old cemetery on the island.”
“A cemetery?” she echoed.
“Deputy Bill’s mother’s writing an article about a pioneer cemetery located on the northwestern corner of the island. She needs a couple of pictures. I’ve got a pretty good camera and volunteered to take them for her.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you were a photographer.”
“I like to think so. Anyway, legend has it that some early pirates came ashore there and were buried in the cemetery along with the early settlers. You might find it interesting.”
She hesitated, wanting to be with him as much as possible before she left. “I really shouldn’t.”
“We could go early enough so you won’t miss a morning’s work.”
“All right.”
“I meant early, like four thirty.”
“Ouch,” she said
When they reached the Langdon house, they were startled to see a dozen lights ablaze in the main house.
“That’s Dr. Hadley’s car,” Brad said as he parked next to a small sedan. “The old man must be worse.”
Chapter Eleven
As they walked into the house, Ashley slipped her hand in his. He could tell from the jut of her chin that she was bracing herself for spending another night in this house. As his fingers closed warmly over hers, he wondered if they could keep the distance they’d struggled all evening to maintain.
What if she invited him up to her room?
He quickly shoved the thought aside. Such speculation was pointless.
Mrs. Mertz was coming down the main staircase as they entered the front hall. Brad could tell from the housekeeper’s expression she was ready to erupt like a simmering volcano.
“What is it, Mrs. Mertz?” Brad asked quickly.
“Mr. Clayton has had a relapse,” she replied as her dark piercing eyes settled on Ashley. “And it’s your fault!”
“Why
do you say that?” Brad demanded quickly.
The woman’s mouth narrowed in an ugly line. “Nurse Nigel told me everything. Miss Davis came into his room last night dressed like his late wife and this morning Mr. Clayton barely rallied enough to talk.”
“I already know about the incident,” Brad replied evenly.
“And if you were doing your job, Officer, she’d have already been arrested.”
Brad squeezed Ashley’s arm for support. “Careful, Mrs. Mertz. Don’t tempt me to make an arrest for slander.”
The housekeeper just lifted her nose a little higher in the air.
“Please tell Dr. Hadley we’d like to speak with him before he leaves,” Brad said in his official tone. “We’ll wait in the family sitting room.”
He quickly guided Ashley past the scowling housekeeper.
Ashley muttered as they made their way to the southeast corner of the house, “It’s that blasted nurse. She’s responsible for all of this.”
He was glad Ashley had filled him in about the nurse’s tirade that morning, but he wasn’t about to jump to any conclusion.
“She’s set all this up, I know it!” Ashley insisted.
“Let’s find out what the doctor has to say about Clayton before we fight any battles.”
No one was in the family room. Ashley dropped down into a chair and leaned her head back against it, as if her thoughts were too heavy at the moment to hold it up.
Brad moved restlessly around the room and was relieved when Dr. Hadley joined them a few minutes later.
The doctor greeted them with a tired smile. “What was it you wanted to see me about, Officer?”
“We’re concerned about Mr. Langdon and would like to hear the whole story from you.”
“There’s not much to tell. I was called in because Clayton suffered a blackout this morning. By the time I got here, he was conscious and talking about a vision he’d seen in the night. A kind of angel, I guess. Apparently, she floated into his room, touched him, and floated out again. Pure hallucination but terribly real to him.”
Ashley opened her mouth as if to protest, but Brad intervened quickly, “I’m glad that it was only a fainting spell.”
“Yes, we all are.”
“What did Nurse Nigel have to say about it?”
The doctor’s expression closed up, as if professional ethics prevented him from repeating anything she’d told him. Without answering, he quickly bid them good night and took his leave.
Brad could tell Ashley was seething even before she lashed out at him. “Why didn’t you let me tell him that I’d experienced the same kind of so-called hallucination?”
“The time isn’t right,” he answered flatly.
“And when will that be?”
“When I know what in the hell is going on.”
“You don’t believe me.”
“Yes, I do, and that’s why we’re going to take this slow. Don’t let the suspicions of a narrow-minded housekeeper or nurse put you on the defense. You’re the stranger in the house and obviously the one who’s most suspect. Come on, I’ll see you upstairs.”
She walked stiffly beside him as they mounted the stairs to the second floor and made their way to the end of the hall.
“I’m not going to be made the scapegoat in this little charade,” she declared when they reached her doorway.
“That’s what it is…a charade,” he assured her. “If someone’s playing a game, we’ll find out what the prize is. Then we’ll know who the players are. In the meantime, don’t do anything on your own.”
He’d never felt so protective about any woman before. If there’d been any chance of convincing her to come back to his house with him, he would have given it his best shot.
“I’ll pick you up before sunrise because I want to catch light rising on the old stones. Afterward, we can have breakfast and you’ll still be back in time for your usual work schedule.”
She nodded and looked at him in a way that invited a lot more than a good night pat on the arm. As he gathered her close, a spark of desire flamed in her eyes. Her demanding response to his kisses left them both breathless. He could have made love to her then. Her defenses were down and her inviting bed was only a few feet away.
“Whoa,” he said huskily as he drew back. “I’d better say good night.”
He just stood there as she searched his face. Then she went into the bedroom and shut the door.
ASHLEY LISTENED to his retreating footsteps and chided herself for welcoming his kisses and embraces like a foolish miser filling a bank with dead-end memories. Why was she so foolish to create another emptiness in her life? As she got ready for bed, her mind played over and over the time she’d spent with Brad Taylor. She ought to cut her losses now before her emotions took a permanent beating—if it wasn’t already too late!
In spite of all the logical arguments to the contrary, she was ready and waiting for him the next morning when the first gray line of dawn edged the night’s mantle of darkness. Dressed warmly in jeans, sweater and a lined jacket, she went down the front steps when the headlights of his car flashed through dense, encroaching woods bordering the road.
She slipped into the passenger seat even before he had the chance to get out of the car and hold the door open for her.
“Well, good morning,” Brad said, a slight surprise in his greeting. He was obviously pleased she was ready and waiting.
“You didn’t think I’d show, did you?”
“It’s pretty early.”
“Not when you’ve lain awake half the night.”
He shot her a quick look. “Nothing else happened, did it?”
“Not that I know about. I’m glad to get away before the household begins to stir.”
“When I take you back, I’ll see what I can find out.”
The road that crossed the island grew narrower as they drove north. Dark green, nearly black trees engulfed the car in shadows and scattered cottages were only indistinct forms in the pale light of a gray dawn.
Ashley was thankful for the warmth of the heater and the reassuring presence of the man sitting beside her. The only thing that appealed to her about the early morning excursion was his company. As she glanced at his thoughtful expression, she wondered if he was even aware of her presence.
“Do you do this often?”
“Only when I have an excuse,” he admitted sending her a quick smile. “I got my first camera when I was ten and was hooked, I guess. The island is ever-changing from morning to night, season to season. Taking pictures is a good pastime.”
Once they left the dense forest, the ground leveled off quickly. The eastern horizon was growing lighter with a hint of a new day, but wispy fog still hovered above the flat, sparsely vegetated ground.
“Here we are,” Brad said, nodding to the area ahead.
Ashley looked at the eerie scene, and her first reaction was to stay in the car. The old cemetery was an ugly patch of land, stark and abandoned. A few dead birch trees remained, standing upright like twisted skeletons. Irregular stones like black sentinels marked the graves. Just looking at them, Ashley felt like an unwanted intruder in a place that should not be violated. Reluctantly, she got out of the car.
Brad seemed unaware of her reaction. Obviously, he had graduated to more professional equipment since his first little camera. He carried a tripod and light meter, and the camera he slung over his shoulder was an expensive one.
Glancing at the lightening sky, he said, “I’d better hurry. I want to catch the flickering shadows and the mist on the tombstones. One of those dead trees would look good in the background.”
A cold mist drifted around Ashley’s legs as she followed him. Some of the slightly raised and sunken graves had granite headstones, but others were not marked. She stopped short every time she thought she might be stepping on someone’s buried remains.
She tried to summon up some interest in the readable epitaphs, but most of them were simply names and dates. Many were sim
ply marked Unknown. She needed a better knowledge of the history of the island to appreciate this bit of Greystone history.
Brad took pictures of the brooding, shadowy burial ground from a half-dozen locations. When a blush of tangerine colors was beginning to spread quickly across the sky from the rising sun, he moved his location and took some more.
“I guess that’s it,” he finally said with satisfaction. “I think I got some good contrasting shots.”
“You seem to know what you’re doing.”
“We’ll see. Now let’s go get some breakfast.”
Before they reached the car, a fast-walking little woman hurried down the road in their direction. She waved and shouted something which the nearby surf drowned out.
“That’s Dora Hunskut. Bill’s mother.” Brad laughed. “Checking up on me, I’ll bet. She’s anointed herself as the unofficial guardian of the cemetery. Always on the lookout for vandalism by careless and insensitive tourists. Dora’s in her seventies, but spunky as all get out. You don’t want to cross her.”
“I was hoping I’d get here earlier,” she said, slightly out of breath as she reached them. She had a baseball cap on her frizzy gray hair and wore a faded denim jacket and jeans. “Did you get the pictures?”
“Sure did. Got some good ones, I think. Dora, I’d like you to meet Ashley Davis, she’s—”
“I know who she is.” She smile broadly at Ashley as she held out her tanned, veined hand. “Landsakes, the whole island knows by now. What a nice surprise. I didn’t know Brad would have company this early in the morning, but it’s no matter. I’ve got enough breakfast fixing waiting.”
“Dora, we—” Brad began.
“Now you hush up.” She shook a finger at him. “I’ve been waiting for a chance to meet up with this young lady. There are plenty of things she should know about you.” She winked at Ashley. “I’ve got a parcel of stories about the island’s esteemed police officer.”
“I’d love to hear them.”
They laughed. Brad groaned.
The distance to the Hunskuts’ was less than a mile from the cemetery. The simple Cape Cod style home was warm and inviting. A sign, ROOMS FOR RENT, hung from a decorative piece of driftwood at the front gate.
