The Novels of Nora Roberts, Volume 3

by Nora Roberts

  He carried the lead in his belly down the stairs.

  The music was bright and better than he’d expected. And the place was packed. Tables were rearranged to make dancing room, and the patrons were taking advantage of it. Streamers and balloons festooned the ceiling, and the dress of the people was just as celebratory.

  He saw some of the old-timers in what Peach had described for him as an Alaska tuxedo. They were sturdy work suits, cleaned up for the occasion. Some were worn with bolo ties and, oddly, paper party hats.

  Many of the women had fancied things up with sparkly dresses or skirts, upswept hair, high heels. He saw Hopp, spruced up in a purple cocktail dress dancing—fox-trot, two-step? Nate hadn’t a clue—with a slicked-up Harry Miner. Rose sat on a high-backed stool behind the bar, with the man he concluded was her husband, David, standing beside her, gently rubbing the small of her back.

  He saw her laugh at something the receptionist from the clinic said to her. And he saw the way she looked up, met her husband’s eyes. He saw the warmth of love beat between them, and he felt cold, felt alone.

  He’d never had a woman look at him like that. Even when he’d been married, the woman he’d thought was his had never looked at him with that open, unrestricted love.

  He looked away from them.

  His eyes scanned the crowd as cop’s eyes do—measuring, detailing, filing. It was the sort of thing that kept him apart, and he knew it. It was the sort of thing he couldn’t stop doing.

  He saw Ed, and the allegedly snooty Arlene. Mitch of KLUN, with his streaky blond hair in a ponytail, and his arm around a girl who wasn’t as pretty as he was. Ken was wearing a Hawaiian lei and having a lively discussion with The Professor, who wore his usual tweed.

  Fellowship, Nate thought. Some of it drunken at this point, but it was still fellowship. And he was Outside.

  He caught a hit of Charlene’s perfume, but she followed up on it too fast for him to brace or evade. Curvy female was wrapped around him, warm, glossy lips were sliding silky over his, with a sly hint of tongue. His ass was stroked and squeezed, his bottom lip gently nipped.

  Then Charlene slithered off, smiled sleepily at him. “Happy New Year, Nate. That was just in case I can’t get my hands on you at midnight.”

  He couldn’t quite form a word and was half afraid he might be blushing. He wondered if her obvious, and inappropriate, come-on had pushed embarrassment through the black.

  “Just where have you been hiding?” She laced her arms around his neck. “Party’s been in gear more than an hour, and you haven’t danced with me.”

  “I had . . . things.”

  “Work, work, work. Why don’t you come play with me?”

  “I need to speak with the mayor.” Please, God, help me.

  “Oh, this isn’t the time for town politics. It’s a party. Come on, dance with me. Then we’ll have some champagne.”

  “I really need to deal with this.” He put his hands on her hips, hoping to nudge her back out of intimacy range, and searched the crowd for Hopp—his savior. His gaze struck, and locked onto Meg’s.

  She gave him that slow, two-step smile, and lifted the glass she held in a mock toast.

  Then dancing couples whirled in front of her, and she was gone.

  “I’ll take a rain check. I—” He spotted a familiar face, and latched on like a drowning man. “Otto. Charlene wants to dance.”

  Before either of them could speak, Nate was beating a fast retreat. He made it to the other side of the room before he risked taking a breath.

  “Funny, you don’t look like a coward.”

  Meg stepped up beside him. She held two glasses now.

  “Then looks are deceiving. She scares me to death.”

  “I won’t say Charlene’s harmless, because she’s anything but. Still, if you don’t want her tongue down your throat, you’re going to need to say so. Loud, clear, in words of one syllable. Here. Got you a drink.”

  “I’m on duty.”

  She snorted. “I don’t think a glass of cheap champagne’s going to change that. Hell, Burke. Just about every soul in Lunacy’s right here.”

  “Got a point.” He took the glass, but he didn’t drink. He did, however, manage to focus on her. She was wearing a dress. He supposed the technical term was dress for the skin of hot red painted on her. It showed off that tight, athletic body he’d imagined in ways that might have been illegal in several jurisdictions. She’d left her hair down. Black rain to milk-white shoulders. Sky-high heels the same color as the dress showcased slim, muscular legs.

  She smelled like cool, secret shadows.

  “You look amazing.”

  “I clean up good if the occasion warrants it. You, on the other hand, look tired.” And wounded, she thought. That’s how he’d struck her when she’d seen him come down the stairs. Like a man who knew there was a huge, gaping wound somewhere on his body, but didn’t have the energy to find it.

  “Haven’t got the sleep pattern down yet.” He sipped the champagne. It tasted like flavored soda water.

  “Did you come down to relax and party or to stand around looking dour and official?”

  “Mostly door two.”

  Meg shook her head. “Try the first for a while. See what happens.” She reached out, unpinned his badge.

  “Hey.”

  “You need a shield, you can pull it out,” she said as she tucked it into his front pocket. “Right now, let’s dance.”

  “I don’t know how to do what they’re doing out there.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll lead.”

  She did just that and made him laugh. It felt rusty in his throat, but lightened some of the weight. “Is the band local?”

  “Everybody’s local. That’s Mindy on the piano. She teaches in the elementary school. Pargo on the guitar. Works in the bank. Chuck’s on fiddle. He’s a ranger in Denali. A Fed, but Chuck’s so affable we pretend he’s got a real job. And Big Mike’s on drums. He’s the cook here. Are you committing all that to memory?”

  “Sorry?”

  “I can see you tucking those names and faces into a file in your head.”

  “Pays to remember.”

  “Sometimes it pays to forget.” Her gaze flickered to the right. “I’m being signalled. Max and Carrie Hawbaker. They run The Lunatic, our weekly paper. They’ve been out of town most of the week. They want an interview with the new chief of police.”

  “I thought this was a party.”

  “They’ll just hunt you down the minute the music stops anyway.”

  “Not if you sneak out with me, and we have our own party elsewhere.”

  She shifted, looked straight into his eyes. “I might be interested, if you meant that.”

  “Why wouldn’t I mean it?”

  “There’s the question. I’ll ask you sometime.”

  She didn’t give him much choice as she angled around, waved. She was pulling him along with her, to the edge of the impromptu dance floor. Introductions were made, then she slipped away, leaving him trapped.

  “Really good to meet you.” Max gave Nate’s hand an enthusiastic shake. “Carrie and I just got back into town, so we haven’t had a chance to welcome you. I’m going to want a piece of your time for an interview for The Lunatic.”

  “We’ll have to work that out.”

  “We could sit out in the lobby now, and—”

  “Not now, Max.” Carrie beamed a smile. “No work tonight. But before we get back to the party, I’d like to ask you, Chief Burke, if you’d have any problem with us running a police log in the paper. I think it would show the community what you do, how we handle things here. Now that we’ve got an official police department, we want The Lunatic to document it.”

  “You can get that information from Peach.”

  Meg wound her way back to the bar, got another glass of champagne before sliding onto a stool where she could watch the dancing while she drank.

  Charlene slid onto the one beside her. “I saw hi
m first.”

  Meg kept watching the dancers. “More who he sees, isn’t it?”

  “You’re only looking at him because I want him.”

  “Charlene, if it’s got a dick, you want it.” Meg tossed back champagne. “And I’m not looking at him, particularly.” She smiled into her glass. “Go ahead, make your play. It’s no skin off mine.”

  “First interesting man who’s come along in months.” Feeling chatty now, Charlene leaned closer. “Do you know, he has breakfast with little Jesse every morning? Isn’t that the sweetest thing? And you should’ve seen the way he handled the Mackies. Plus, he’s got mystery.” She sighed. “I’m a sucker for a man with mystery.”

  “You’re a sucker for a man as long as he can still get it up.”

  Charlene’s mouth twisted in disgust. “Why do you have to be so crude?”

  “You sat down here to let me know you’re hoping to fuck the new chief of police. You can put ribbons on it, Charlene, it’s still crude. I just leave off the ribbons.”

  “You’re just like your father.”

  “So you always say,” Meg murmured as Charlene flounced away.

  Hopp took Charlene’s stool. “The two of you would fight about how much rain came down in the last shower.”

  “That’s a little philosophical for us. What’re you drinking?”

  “I was going to get another glass of that lousy champagne.”

  “I’ll get it.” Meg walked around the bar, poured another glass and topped off her own. “She wants to take a nice, greedy bite out of Burke.”

  Hopp looked over at Nate, saw he’d managed to escape from the Hawbakers only to be caught by Joe and Lara Wise.

  “Their business.”

  “Their business,” Meg agreed, and clinked her glass to Hopp’s.

  “The fact that he looks to be more interested in taking one out of you isn’t going to improve your relationship with your mother.”

  “Nope.” Meg sipped, considering. “But it should make things exciting for a while.” She saw Hopp cast her eyes to heaven and laughed. “I can’t help it. I like trouble.”

  “He would be.” Hopp turned on the stool when she saw Nate being pulled onto the floor again by Charlene. “All that business about still waters, blah blah. Those broody types can be hard to handle.”

  “He’s about the saddest man I’ve ever seen. Sadder than that drifter stopped in here a couple of years ago. What was his name? McKinnon. Blew his brains out up in Hawley’s cache.”

  “And wasn’t that a mess? Ignatious might be sad enough to put the barrel of a .45 in his mouth, but he’s got too much spine to pull the trigger. Think he’s too polite, too.”

  “That’s what you’re banking on?”

  “Yeah. That’s what I’m banking on. Well, hell. I’m going to do my last good deed of the year and go save him from Charlene.”

  Sad, polite men were anything but her type, Meg told herself. She liked reckless men, careless men. Men who didn’t expect to stay the night after. You could have a couple drinks with a man like that, tangle up the sheets if the mood struck, then move on.

  No bumps, no bruises.

  A man like Ignatious Burke? A roll with him was bound to be bumpy, and it was bound to leave bruises. Still, it might be worth it.

  In any case, she liked conversations with him, and that couldn’t be overvalued in her opinion. She could happily go days, weeks without talking to another human being. So she appreciated interesting conversation. And she liked watching the sorrow that haunted his eyes come and go. She’d seen it lift a few times now. When he’d stood in front of her house that morning, listening to Loreena McKennit, and again for a few moments when they’d danced.

  Sitting there now, with the music and the heat of humanity all around her, she realized she wanted to see it lift again. And that she had a good idea how to make it happen.

  She went behind the bar, found an open bottle and two glasses. Holding them down at her side, she slipped out of the room.

  Hopp tapped Charlene briskly on the shoulder. “Sorry, Charlene, I need an official moment with Chief Burke.”

  Charlene only pressed closer to Nate. He wondered if she’d just pop out the back of him. “Town Hall’s closed, Hopp.”

  “Town Hall’s never closed. Come on now, let the boy out of that stranglehold.”

  “Oh, all right. I expect you to finish this dance, handsome.”

  “Let’s find ourselves a corner, Ignatious.” Hopp waved people aside, cut a swatch through the crowd. She hunkered down at a table someone had pushed into the pool area. “Want a drink?”

  “No, I think I want the back door.”

  “You can run, but you can’t hide in a town this size. You’re going to have to deal with her sooner or later.”

  “Let’s go with later.” He wanted to go upstairs, back to the dark. His head was pounding, his stomach queasy with the stress and effort of just being.

  “I didn’t just pull you away to break Charlene’s headlock. You’ve got my deputy mayor well and truly pissed.”

  “I know it. I handled that situation as seemed most prudent and within the confines of the law.”

  “I’m not questioning how you do your job, Ignatious.” She waved that off as she’d waved off people. “I’m just giving you the facts. Ed’s pompous, self-important and a pain in the ass more than half the time. Still, he’s a good man and works hard for this town.”

  “Doesn’t mean he can drive worth a damn.”

  She grinned at that. “He’s always been a lousy driver. He’s also powerful, rich and a grudge-holder. He won’t forget you crossed him on this business. It might seem small potatoes to the type of thing you’re used to dealing with, but in Lunacy, this was major.”

  “I can’t be the first to cross him.”

  “You’re not. Ed and I butt heads all the time. But the way he’d see that, he and I are on equal footing. I might even have a leg up. You’re Outside, and he expects you to kowtow some. On the other hand, if you’d kowtowed, I’d have been very disappointed. Puts you between a rock and a hard place.”

  “I’ve been there before. Does kowtow really have anything to do with cows?”

  She stared for a moment, then barked out a laugh. “A polite and sneaky way to tell me to mind my own. Before I do, let me add something. Getting yourself caught between Charlene and Meg means that rock and hard place are both going to be very hot, very sticky, and mean as a demon from hell.”

  “Then I’d better not get caught.”

  “Good thinking.” Her eyebrows lifted when his cell phone beeped.

  “Calls to the station get transferred to my personal,” he said as he pulled it out of his pocket. “Burke.”

  “Get your coat,” Meg said. “Meet me out front in five minutes. I’ve got something I want to show you.”

  “Sure. Okay.” He stuck the phone back in his pocket as Hopp watched him. “It’s nothing. I think I’m going to duck out.”

  “Mmm-hmm. Use the door there, go through the kitchen.”

  “Thanks. And Happy New Year.”

  “Same to you.” Hopp shook her head as he walked away. “Going to be trouble.”

  IT TOOK HIM more than five minutes to get to his room, pile on his gear, slip out, then walk around to the front of The Lodge. He was halfway there when he realized he hadn’t been tempted to just lock the door behind him and burrow back in the dark.

  Maybe it was progress. Or maybe lust was stronger than situational depression.

  She was waiting, sitting on one of two folding chairs she’d set dead center of the street.

  The bottle of champagne was screwed into the snowpack. She sipped from her glass, and a thick blanket covered her lap.

  “You can’t sit out here in that dress even with your coat and the blanket—”

  “I changed. I always carry extra clothes in my pack.”

  “Too bad. I was looking forward to seeing you in that dress again.”

  “Anot
her time, another place. Have a seat.”

  “Okay. Why are we sitting outside in the street at . . . ten minutes to midnight?”

  “Not much for crowds. You?”

  “Not really.”

  “They can be fun for a while, on a special occasion. But it wears thin for me after a few hours. Besides.” She handed him a glass. “This is better.”

  It amazed him the champagne wasn’t frozen solid. “I think it would be better if we were inside, where frostbite isn’t a factor.”

  “Not that cold out. No wind. Hovering around zero. Besides, you can’t really see this from inside.”

  “See what?”

  “Look up, Lower 48.”

  He looked where she pointed and lost his breath. “Holy God.”

  “Yeah, I always thought it was holy. A natural phenom caused by latitude, sunspots and so on. Scientific explanations don’t make it less beautiful, or magical.”

  The lights in the sky were green with shimmers of gold, hints of red. The long, eerie streaks seemed to pulse and breathe, bathing the dark with life.

  “The northern lights show best in the winter, but it’s usually too damn cold to appreciate them. Figured this was a good night for the exception.”

  “I’ve heard of them. Seen pictures. It’s not like the pictures.”

  “The best things never are. They show better out of town. Even better when you’re camped up on one of the glaciers. One night when I was about seven, my father and I hiked up into the mountains and camped just so we could be up there to see. We lay on our backs for hours, damn near freezing, and just watched the sky.”

  The otherworldly green continued to shift, glow, expand, shimmer. It was raining liquid jewels of color. “What happened to him?”

  “You could say one day he took another hike and decided to keep going. You got family?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Well, we won’t spoil this by telling our sad stories. We’ll just enjoy the show.”

  They sat in silence in the middle of the street, spindly chairs balanced on the snowpack while the heavens flamed.

  The flames sparked something inside him, stroked away the tension headache, settled him on the ridge of wonder where he could breathe.