“I always knew you’d come walking back through that plane door and down those steps, Marion.”
Alexa cracked up at Reese’s mangled imitation of Indiana Jones’ famous line to his old flame from The Raiders of the Lost Ark. She and Reese had watched every single Indiana Jones movie at least twice during their time together. In an instant, her nervousness disappeared.
“Let me grab your bag.” Reese gestured toward the remaining bag sitting next to the empty plane. “If we leave now, we might be able to get in a research drive before sundown. This week, my team is tracking a pride of lions on the far side of the Reserve.”
They drove thirty minutes over a sand track, moving farther into the wild with each kilometer. The landscape was dry and dusty, a mix of plains and small hills. A lonely acacia tree silhouetted against the far horizon reminded Alexa of the classic photos she’d seen of Africa. Still, Samburu’s stark beauty sustained wildlife. They’d passed herds of elephants and gazelle, warthogs, and too many beautiful birds to count.
Reese slowed the Land Rover and waved his hand at the scrub brush ahead, shouting over the engine noise. “The camp is just ahead. You’ll be bunking with Elsa Schumacher from Germany. I share a tent with John Lucas. We’ve got communal baths, dining area, research tent. There are about fourteen staff on board at the present.”
Alexa’s heart sank. She hadn’t expected to arrive here in Samburu and immediately climb back into Reese’s bed. But a summer camp atmosphere didn’t bode well for alone time with her friend and former lover.
Reese brought the vehicle to a complete stop, turned to Alexa, and took her hand. “I’m not sure why you’re here. Hell, I’m not even sure why I want you here. But I’m hoping you’ll agree to spend a few days together—just you and me. Starting on Sunday, a friend has offered us a tent at Archer’s Camp in the Reserve, if you’re interested.”
“That sounds wonderful. I’m not sure where this is going either, Reese. Maybe nowhere. But I’ve never felt right about the way I pushed you away . . . the way you left for Africa, practically overnight. I’m glad we’ll have some time together to resolve things, if we can.”
“So, it’s Archer’s for a few days, then.” Reese said, his expression suddenly changing. He dropped Alexa’s hand and said softly, “Slowly, to your right.”
Alexa followed the direction of his gaze. Several small tan, antelope-like creatures had wandered into the acacia bushes next to the Land Rover. As she watched, a male with two curved antlers rose onto his hind legs, extended his long slender neck and began nibbling at the thorny branches.
“That’s amazing.” Alexa whispered.
“Gerenuk. It’s type of gazelle—one of the five species endemic to the Samburu area.” Reese started the engine and headed into camp.
Alexa couldn’t stop smiling at the wonders of Samburu; an antelope that stood on its hind legs like a human and her own mini-safari with Reese at Archer’s.
Alexa stepped through the tent flap and gasped. “I thought the tented camps in Tanzania were amazing, but this place is totally outrageous. Look at that bathtub. It’s practically Victorian.”
“Archer’s is the best camp up here in the Samburu. We’re lucky Tony Kent had a last-minute cancellation and gave us the gift of a three-day stay.”
“Kent? I think I met him on the plane. A rangy, weathered guy with a British accent?”
“That’s him. But the accent is Kenyan. His family has been here for more than a century.”
The soaring ceiling of the tent was lined with kente cloth. A campaign chest, a leather camp chair, and a huge oriental rug gave the interior an exotic air. Alexa stood on the threshold and contemplated the huge four-poster bed dominating the center of the room.
As if he read her thoughts, Reese turned to face Alexa and wound a hand through her hair. “It’s time,” he murmured as he tilted her head back and brought his mouth to hers.
Alexa sighed with contentment as she sank into Reese’s kiss. The soft terrain of his lips felt like familiar territory—as if Alexa had been in exile and returned home to where she belonged.
“We have hours before the next game drive. I’ve wanted to make love to you since the moment you stepped off the lane,” Reese whispered. He pulled away for a moment, seeking assent.
Alexa began unbuttoning his shirt as she giggled. “Well, then . . .”
Soon, a trail of hiking boots and khaki clothing marked an erratic path to the four-poster bed. Throwing the exquisite quilt aside, Alexa and Reese came together in a rush of longing and passion. Alexa tattooed his muscular chest in pinprick kisses until, gasping with pleasure, she arched her body upward to meld into the thrusting curve of his hips. Oblivious to the roar of a nearby lion, Alexa lost herself in ecstatic reunion with Reese.
“Wow.” Reese gathered Alexa into his arms.
“Exactly.” Alexa snuggled deeper into his embrace. “I think I’ll give Archer’s Camp five stars.”
“So, it’s just the camp you like?”
“Well, I guess it could be the personal guide.” Alexa ran her hand down his chest, heading downward.
Reese caught her wrist. “Enough of that, miss. We need to get dressed for the game drive. You’ve seen a gerenuk, but you have to see the rest of the Samburu Five: the reticulated giraffe, Grevy’s zebra, the Somali ostrich, and the Beisa oryx.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Up and at ’em, sunshine. The bush awaits.” Reese planted a kiss on Alexa’s forehead and slid out of bed. He looked down at her and feigned a leer. “I’ll see you back here—right here—later.”
“I’ll count on it.”
Alexa and Reese ate their last dinner at Archer’s Camp on the deck of their tent. Several lanterns sputtered in the middle of the table, scenting the hot night with the smoky tang of burning kerosene. Alexa rested her elbows on the table as she confided in Reese.
“Africa has healed my soul. You know better than anyone how killing Reverend Browne shattered me. At first, I pretended nothing was wrong. I just tried to tough it out. Without your support, it would have been even worse. But I was so screwed up, I drove even you away. I’m sorry.” Alexa took a shaky sip of wine and gave Reese a beseeching look.
Reese reached for her hand. “Alexa, you don’t need to apologize. Elizabeth Nelson’s death brought us together. But building a relationship on tragedy is like building a house on shifting sands. In different circumstances, we could have been good together. But you were trying to deal with a lot of trauma. And I needed to get away from my own mess from Roaring Falls State Park.”
“My short time here has been a healing experience. Watching all these animals living each day as if it’s their last. The whole life and death drama of kill or be killed. The vast open spaces. It’s helped me realize that I need to get over myself. I killed a man, but I did it in self-defense. I think I’m finally ready to move on.” Alexa released Reese’s hand and leaned back against the leather camp chair. “Did I tell you I found another dead body?”
Reese gasped as Alexa continued.
“One of Melissa’s friends. She was a real saint and saved women from sex trafficking. But, this time, I haven’t let myself become swept up in the situation.” Alexa curled her lip in a sardonic smile. “I’m maintaining my perspective.”
“Glad to hear you’re doing better. It’s so bizarre—you finding the body of another dead woman. But you sound like you’re maintaining a healthy distance from the situation.” Reese’s smile grew wistful. “It’s been wonderful to see you, Lexie. Too bad you couldn’t bring Scout along.”
“That dog misses you so much. I won’t mention your name in front of him when I get back. He would be totally pissed to find out that I didn’t bring him along to see his favorite forest ranger.”
Reese ran a hand through his thick brown hair and swallowed hard. “So, this is goodbye? This gig in Samburu is perfect for me. I might not stay forever, but that saying about Africa getting in your blood—it’s true. I�
��m in no hurry to leave.” Reese wrapped his hands around Alexa’s.
“How about, goodbye for now?” Alexa managed a wan smile. Aching sadness pressed against her inner breastbone like a balloon filled to the breaking point. “You’re free to go your way. I’m free to go mine. I suspect a life together is never going to be in the cards for us. But I’d like to think that maybe, someday, somewhere . . .”
“Let’s leave the possibility floating out there in the universe for now. There’s an African proverb: ‘Love never gets lost; it’s only kept.’ Even if we never meet again, Lexie, I’ll always keep you in my heart.”
Long after she and Reese had made slow, tender love in the four-poster bed, Alexa lay awake in the dark tent. She was at peace with leaving Reese. They had reached the best decision. Still, she could not halt the stream of silent tears wetting her pillow as she listened to the bellow of hippos, feeding in the river below.
Chapter Twenty-nine
“THANK YOU, MISS. You have several hours before your flight leaves. There is a lounge at gate five for premier class travelers if you want to wait there.”
Alexa shouldered her backpack and headed through the crowd at the airport checkin desks. Tourists in safari togs stood elbow to elbow with men in brilliant white dishdasha dress and kufi hats. Women in colorful kanga cloth fluttered like bright birds around other locals wearing more subdued Western suits and dresses. A steady hum of voices and activity filled the big hall.
In no real hurry, Alexa cleared security and meandered down the long corridor to explore the airport. Searching the sign overhead for directions, Alexa nearly ran into a young woman ahead of her. The woman seemed to be part of a large group that had come to a complete halt in front of a gate waiting area.
Noticing the Java House opposite the gate, Alexa dashed across the corridor.
“At last, a place that might serve chai tea. I can’t imagine they’ll have chai in the lounge,” Alexa mumbled.
Alexa took a seat at a small table and settled in to enjoy her drink. Java House wasn’t up to Om Café standards, but three weeks without chai called for desperate measures.
The group across the way still milled around, somewhat lethargically. Alexa noted that they were all carrying white bags with blue markings like the refugees she had seen when she arrived here on the flight from Tanzania. But these bags said OAM.
Hadn’t the other group been carrying bags that said OIM?
Yes. I’m sure it was Organization for International Migration, she recalled. Daniel said they worked closely with many governments and the United Nations. This must be some related outfit.
As she looked at their faces, Alexa registered another difference from the earlier group. These refugees were practically all young women and teenage girls, some little more than children. A handful of boys clustered together in the far corner. And these girls and boys were all strikingly beautiful. Although dressed in mismatched clothes and painfully thin, any one of the group could be groomed for a Vogue photo shoot and appear on the cover.
Maybe OAM stands for Organization for Awesome Minors? I guess I’ll never know the answer to this mystery, Alexa mused as she finished the last of her chai.
Leaning over to lift her backpack from the floor, Alexa was shocked to hear a familiar voice across the corridor.
“Get them moving. The plane’s starting to board. I’ve had just about enough of your fucking incompetence.”
Alexa couldn’t believe it. Jack Nash stood no more than thirty feet away from her, chewing out a rough-looking man with a scraggly gray ponytail. If it hadn’t been for his voice, she might not have recognized Jack in his designer safari outfit complete with bandana at the neck. For reasons she couldn’t immediately explain, Alexa dropped her backpack and slid her seat back a few inches until she was partially shielded by an artificial palm tree. Traffic had thinned in the corridor, and she could hear Jack clearly.
“Now,” he bellowed.
“Hey, mate, you’ve got to get a grip. Amin will keep them in line. You’re going to draw attention if you don’t put a sock in it.” Unfazed, the man in the khaki jacket and jeans dismissed Jack’s anger.”
Then a third person appeared, a reedy, brown-skinned man who could have been Indian or Arabic or both. His black uniform looked military, but Alexa couldn’t see any markings to identify its country of origin. He moved up and down the line of young women and men barking, “Uu hore u socdo. Uu hore socdo. Deg deg ah.”
Alexa had no idea what he was saying, but his words ignited action. In unison, the group shuffled toward the boarding gate clutching their white OAM bags. As she watched the scene, Alexa began to feel a little silly about hiding from Jack. Clearly, this group of refugees must somehow be part of Children of Light’s philanthropic efforts. As a new board member, she still wasn’t up to date on all of their projects. She concluded that the polite thing to do, when encountering an acquaintance halfway across the world, was to say hello—not cower behind a potted plant.
She grabbed her backpack and jumped to her feet. Just as Alexa exited the Java House, a flood of people coursed down the corridor. By the time Alexa made her way across to the gate, boarding had nearly finished. She caught a glimpse of Jack’s back as he disappeared through the boarding gate.
Behind the checkin desk, a woman clad in dark blue spoke into a microphone. “Last call for Flight 920 to Cairo and Toronto, now boarding at gate two.”
“That’s that,” Alexa muttered, somewhat chagrined at her ridiculous behavior. She slipped her backpack over both shoulders and set off to find the lounge.
During a layover in Amsterdam, Alexa extracted her iPad from the recesses of her backpack and took advantage of the free Wi-Fi. During the trip she had only used her iPad for downloading photos, but now she had to prepare for the real world again. With a sigh, she opened up her personal email, avoiding the work account for now.
Hundreds of emails loaded almost instantly, and Alexa began to wade through them. She deleted all the retail offers and requests for donations before she turned to notes from her friends.
Just two days ago, Melissa had written that the police had detained someone in conjunction with Cecily Townes’ murder. She attached the newspaper article. The man, a registered sex offender named Clyde Kahn, had a run-in with Cecily not long before her death. State police were also questioning Kahn about the disappearance of several Carlisle area women.
Good news, Alexa thought. Maybe when I get home, I’ll find out that Meg Wilson has returned to the Bertolinos as well.
She curled up in the big chair and ruminated. This trip to Africa had been revelatory. She’d had a wonderful time on safari. Plus, she truly believed that she had come to terms with taking Reverend Browne’s life. She and Reese had reached a good place with their relationship—one that allowed both of them to move on without regret. Alexa thought about the new men in her life. She couldn’t honestly say Quinn Hutton was going to be the move-on guy. Or John Taylor . . . and definitely not Tyrell Jenkins. Regardless, she was anxious to get home, see Scout, and get her life back on track.
Chapter Thirty
“HEY, BUDDY, I’VE MISSED you, too.” After a quick nuzzle, Scout’s joy at Alexa’s arrival home sent him into a frenzy. He leapt off the ground and rotated his giant body in the air in a series of three hundred and sixty-degree turns.
“Enough, Scout. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Alexa admonished.
“I’m glad I didn’t bring the kids along. He might have crushed them both. How would I explain that to Kate?” Graham observed in a sardonic tone.
“Hey, big brother. I appreciate the lift from the airport, but that doesn’t entitle you to dis my dog. He’s just happy to see me.”
“You think?” Melissa drawled. “I could tell he missed you, but things were fine while you were away. I took enough mastiff pictures to do a whole new exhibit.”
“Let me get my duffel into the house. I’ve been traveling for almost twenty-four hours.” Alexa inha
led the pine-scented night air and savored it, glad to be home.
“And you’re going to tell us all about Africa, right? How’s Reese?” Melissa bounced up the steps with her arm around Alexa. Scout darted into the house behind them, leaving Graham to carry Alexa’s duffel and backpack.
“No. Let me carry your bags, Alexa,” her brother muttered as he climbed onto the deck. The screen door slammed behind Graham as he dumped her bags onto the dining room floor.
“Thanks.” Alexa noticed her brother sweating from the effort. “You need to start working out more. Those bags aren’t that heavy. Have a beer before you leave, Graham.”
“That’s an offer I can’t refuse.”
Melissa headed to the refrigerator. “Jim has some Tröegs Sunshine Pils in here. Might be the last batch of the summer.”
They all sat at the big dining room table, drinks in hand. After giving Melissa and Graham a snapshot version of the Tanzanian leg of her trip, Alexa’s expression turned serious. “Bring me up to date on what’s been going on here. Melissa, I read the article you sent me about an arrest in Cecily’s murder.”
“I want to hear about Reese.”
Graham intervened. “No way. I am not going to sit around and listen to you two talk romance. Lexie, you’re right. The police did take this guy, Clyde Kahn, in for questioning. But I don’t think they had enough to make the charges stick. I understand he’s been released.”
Alexa frowned. “Because he didn’t do it or because they don’t have enough evidence?”
“I’m not sure. Word around the courthouse is that this guy is a real piece of work. Most people know him by his nickname, Boomer.”
“Boomer Kahn. Of course. Isn’t he the one from Mt. Holly who was luring all the neighborhood girls into his house to play My Little Pony? That was back when we were in high school, right?”
Dead of Summer Page 16
