by Robena Grant
He sat on a high branch of an old eucalyptus tree, and raised his binoculars. He knew he was far enough away not to be detected. In front of the few eucalyptus trees stood a row of Tamarisk trees that the old guy must have planted as a wind break. Those trees gave him extra protection yet the foliage was sparse enough that he could see beyond them. Yet still he sat as low as possible, his back pressed into the trunk.
He thought of the roll of film he’d developed here yesterday. Damn woman. He spat onto the sand. A whole roll of birds…birds landing on water.
His head still ached, and the cut on his head throbbed. He touched it gingerly, and winced. His cousin had patched him up as best he could. His eyes got heavy and he shook off sleep. He’d need to change the dressing tonight. He smoothed the edges of the tape, and prayed he wasn’t allergic to anything. Americans used different products than in his country. A door slammed, and soft voices carried on the slight breeze. No arguments like before. They must be going out the back. The motor boat started up.
Pedro widened his eyes and stifled a yawn. He raised his binoculars. “What is…? Fishing?” The boat shot across the water. Is good. Bueno. Time for investigation, and supplies.
****
Michael figured Rachel navigated the water the same way she drove a car, at full speed. Good Lord the woman was reckless. But Ralph seemed to be having a grand old time.
“We’ll cruise the north shore, first,” Rachel yelled. “Then we’ll go back toward the south side and throw in a couple of fishing lines.”
“Sure,” Michael said gruffly, still unable to completely forgive her.
He sat at the back, closing his eyes for a few seconds so he didn’t have to see the pitch and lurch as the boat cut across the choppy waves. Then he felt underneath the seat. Good. The old guy had been smart enough to stash a couple of life vests.
“Ah, anything in particular you’re looking for?” he asked, as Rachel cut the engine.
“Nope.” She sat perfectly still and gazed toward the nearest shore. She looked up and down the shoreline. He squinted into the bright sunshine. He’d forgotten sunglasses. What was she looking for? Not that he was complaining or anything, at least they were relatively still.
A moment later, she turned, and smiled. “I can’t help myself. I had to check out some of the birds, see if it’s worth coming here tomorrow.”
“You don’t have a camera.”
“I know. But Grandpa has a few old ones at the cabin.”
She started the motor without warning. Michael grabbed on for dear life as the boat shot straight across the huge expanse of water, turning back in the direction they’d started out from. Water shot up from either side and a fine spray misted him. Birds squawked and flew out from the rushes and rocks along the shore. He looked back. He’d never seen so many birds. Some he didn’t even recognize.
Were they herons, maybe?
“There’s a pair of binoculars in my backpack,” Rachel yelled, the wind almost whipping the words away before he could hear them. “In case you want to do some bird watching.”
He stood and lurched forward, found his footing, and the binoculars, and moved closer to her. Forget the birds. He scanned the shoreline, and the abandoned buildings. This was an opportunity he hadn’t had from his home base at the dingy bar. The binoculars were almost like wearing sunglasses. He could see now.
“How big is the sea?” he yelled.
“Forty something miles end to end, and—”
“How far are we going?”
“Maybe ten miles, or so.” She waved one hand around.
“Good. I want to check out the buildings along the deserted part north of Desert Scapes, up to the stretch of beach where you were attacked.”
“Okay.” She nodded, and he continued to scan the shore.
He looked back toward the cabin. A movement in the sand dunes, where a few scrubby bushes and an occasional Tamarisk tree led to the side yard, caught his attention. “Rachel. You might want to turn around.”
“You going to be sick?” she yelled.
“No. Slow down.”
She did, and looked over her shoulder at him. “What’s wrong?”
“I saw something, or someone, lurking around the bushes in the side yard.”
“You’re kidding? Let me see.” She turned the boat, grabbed the binoculars, and peered toward the cabin. “I don’t see anything…oh, wait. There’s a crouching dark shape. Hell, I think it’s a guy.” She tossed the binoculars toward him. “Keep your eyes on him.”
Michael caught the binoculars, and slipped the loop of the strap over his head.
“You got your gun?” she yelled.
“Yes.”
He touched his shoulder holster beneath the flannel he’d worn to cover it, and glad to have the shirt now they were on the water. It was damn cold. The sun shone, but the day was chilly. Or maybe the chill came from the fear of Rachel’s motorboat skills, or lack thereof, and the attention her speed might draw. He walked over and stood behind her, and reached around to steady the wheel. No way in hell he wanted her tearing straight across the lake. He needed to approach with more care.
“Take it slow,” he murmured. “Keep it steady.”
“Yeah, I drive like a maniac,” she said, and rested her back against his chest for a minute.
Michael wondered if that was a reflex, or a come-on, or a way to distract him from being angry with her. He didn’t move.
“Grandpa always threatens he’s going to upchuck his breakfast.” Rachel laughed. “Hasn’t happened yet.”
Michael realized how good it felt to have his arms around her, to feel her pressed against him. The scent of her flowery shampoo got to him. But the flip of hair that blew backward and slapped at his face reminded him to stay focused on the man at the cabin. He removed his hands from where he’d placed them over hers, on the now steady wheel, and backed away. Focus on the job.
“You’re doing great,” he said, and moved to the seat as she headed the boat toward the shore. He kept the binoculars to his eyes.
They soon approached the jetty. There was no movement. Whatever, or whomever, they’d seen had disappeared. Could someone have gone inside? Nothing at all seemed amiss. No unknown cars or trucks were around the cabin. Rachel cut the engine. Michael put the binoculars into her backpack, and jumped out onto the jetty and tied up the boat. He took out his gun from the holster.
“I want you to stay aboard, stay low, while I check out the cabin. I’ll give you a call, if it’s safe.”
She nodded, lifted up Ralph, and sank onto the floor of the boat.
Michael did a quick walk around the small building, and he checked both cars. The front door of the screened porch was still locked. No sign of forced entry. No broken windows. He tried the back door. Locked. He walked a few feet back toward the jetty, and beckoned Rachel. Then he faced the cabin, the gun still drawn, scanning the area as she and Ralph hurried up behind him.
“Is everything okay?” she asked softly.
“I think so. Perimeter’s safe. Both doors are locked.” They stood on the sand below the verandah for a minute. She stood close behind him. He could hear her breathing.
“There’s no damage to the cabin, or our cars,” Michael said, still scanning the area.
“Good,” she whispered, and then shivered.
“Do you feel okay about unlocking the back door?” He turned, gave her a quick glance, and then scanned the yard again. “Or do you want to give me the key?”
“I’ll do it.”
“Okay, but only I will enter. I’ll check out the inside. You wait on the verandah, away from windows, and stay low.”
“I don’t want to stay out here,” she whispered, and looked around, holding Ralph tight.
He could see how frightened she was, and it hadn’t been long since she’d been threatened, and shot at. He grimaced. If someone had gotten inside, and then locked the door…
“Can I follow you inside, and stay behind you?”
>
“It could be risky. What if Ralph barks?”
“I’ll shadow you,” she said. “And I’ll cover Ralph’s mouth. He knows what that means.”
The fear in her eyes almost did him in. Hell, she could be shot. But then he supposed she could be shot at out here too. “Did you lock both doors when we left?”
She held up the keys. “Yes.”
She lowered her voice. “I locked the screen and the front door after you when you came in, because I always do. Then I took the keys and locked the back one on our way out.”
“Does anyone else have keys to the place?”
Rachel pressed up tighter behind him. “Nobody else,” she whispered. “Only me…oh…and of course, Grandpa.”
“Okay.” Michael moved up onto the verandah and stepped closer to the door. He pressed his ear to it, and listened. He indicated she should turn the key, and after she did, he shoved her behind him.
“On three,” he said. “And stay close.”
She nodded, and hooked a hand into the back of his jeans.
“One. Two. Three,” he said in a hoarse whisper. He flung the door wide, his body in a crouch, well, as much as he could with a woman and a dog behind him. His gaze methodically swept the main room. Nothing seemed amiss. He held the gun steady, ready to fire at any movement.
“Get your hands up. Police,” he yelled. The cabin was quiet. It looked exactly as they’d left it, and being small, he was sure he’d hear if another person breathed. He checked out each room with Rachel hanging onto the waist of his jeans, her warm breath tickling the back of his neck. They got to the darkroom last.
“Does everything look okay in here?” he asked.
“Yes. It’s exactly how I left it,” she said peering over his shoulder.
She let out a huge puff of air and it fanned softly over his cheek. “Thank goodness. That scared me.”
“Yes. Me too.”
“If he’d taken the negatives I’d be in damn serious trouble. It must have been some drifter,” she said. “Or it could have been someone taking a shortcut into town.”
“Or, he could have been checking out if the cabin was open.” Michael didn’t tell her the guy had been moving away from town, not toward it. No sense in frightening her further. He slipped the gun into his waistband. “He may have been checking out the cars to see if they were open, or if they were alarmed.”
She’d slid around from behind him, nestled against his side, her hand around him and sliding up and down his ribcage. He caught his breath, and held it for a few seconds. He knew it was just a reflex. But her actions both comforted and aroused him.
“I suppose so. Yeah, he might have wanted to steal the car. Maybe he’d hoped I’d left the keys inside. People do dumb things down here.”
He nodded.
“I mean, Grandpa always said it was safe here and he’d leave the windows open at night. And he didn’t even have a dog or anything.” She looked down at Ralph, tucked under her other arm. “He’d never had problems with breaking and entering, or anyone trying to steal his truck.”
Michael eased away from her, but she turned and looked up at him. They were standing so close, face to face in the small hallway outside the darkroom. A twinge of discomfort shot through him. He liked being close to her too much.
“Want to check those negatives?” he asked, stepping back a bit, and indicating they should go into the darkroom.
“Sure,” she said. “It’s been almost an hour, might be a tad too soon to print anything, but it won’t be long. We’ll check the timer.”
“Good. And then we’ll get the hell out of here.”
****
Rachel went inside the darkroom first, still holding Ralph. Ralph squirmed and barked.
“Shush, honey,” she said, and pressed his lips. “No bark.” She looked at Michael and grinned. “Grandpa would have a fit if he knew Ralph was in here. Stay still, sugar. No flying fur.”
She didn’t want to risk putting Ralph down. Not yet. Michael’s presence behind her had her nerve endings buzzing. And that reminded her of how she’d felt on the boat when he’d covered her hands. Heat flooded and pooled in her abdomen. Her breath quickened, and she had the desire to press back against him. Feel that same heat she’d felt earlier. All work and no play Delaney. She lifted the timer, five minutes left.
Ralph growled and squirmed in her arms. There was a loud bang, and a click. The room went black.
“What the hell?” she said, turning and bumping into Michael. “Did you shut the door?”
“No. I didn’t touch anything.” He gripped her arm. “Shh. Someone is out there. They’ve locked us in.”
“Move back a bit. I need to turn on the safe light.”
When the room was suffused in a dull golden light she looked up at Michael.
He tried the door, shouldering his weight against it, but it wouldn’t budge. “It’s been barred with that huge iron bar, and padlocked.”
“What do we do now?” Rachel asked.
Her heart pounded and she’d started to sweat. She took in a couple of deep breaths, reminding herself she wasn’t claustrophobic. Hell, she’d been closed up in this room millions of times before.
Michael sat on the side of the tub. “Okay, let’s think things through.” He held his head in his hands for a few moments. “Okay. I have my gun, but I doubt I could shoot out that padlock on the other side of the door.” He coolly assessed the room.
She bit at the inside of her cheek. Besides, without extra ammo on his person, he needed to use what bullets he had to fire at the bastard who’d locked them inside. Knowing not to butt into his thoughts, but also knowing they were trapped, Rachel tried not to show her distress. He touched the front pocket of his jeans, and then pulled out his cell phone. Rachel held her breath as he punched in a number.
No service. Damn. “It’s always dicey down here,” she said and shrugged.
“They wouldn’t have a unit in the immediate area anyway. It could be thirty minutes before someone arrived in the best case scenario.” He closed off the cell and shoved it in his pocket, scanned the walls, the floor, the ceiling of the darkroom. “Are there any tools, instruments, anything we can use?”
“Not much.” Rachel put Ralph on the floor. He ran to the door sniffing up and down the length of the rubber at the bottom. He growled deep in his chest. “Someone is still out there,” she whispered. Why she whispered she had no idea.
“Don’t worry. We’ll figure this out.” Michael searched through the cupboard below the vanity and produced a bottle opener, a knife, a pair of scissors, two long handled spoons, and a plastic coffee measuring spoon and lined them up on the countertop. “I think it’s the negatives, or the prints that he wants.”
He sat back on the edge of the tub and indicated she should join him. In a loud voice, he said, “Rachel, how long will it take to print those negatives?”
He raised one finger and mouthed one hour.
“About an hour,” she said.
Michael smiled at her and rubbed her shoulder. Ralph had stopped barking and sniffing at the door. He curled up to rest at their feet. Rachel shook off her backpack. “You never know what I’ll have in here,” she said.
Michael grabbed it and rummaged through, and then looked up at her, his eyes showing what she’d feared. Other than a couple of wooden toothpicks, binoculars, and a hairbrush, they were out of luck.
“Think positive. At least you’ve got a couple of protein bars. And we have the basket of apples.” He looked around the small space. “And we’ve got coffee,” he said cheerfully, with a nod toward the tiny two cup coffee maker on the counter.
Rachel blew out a huge puff of air. Yeah, like they were gonna sit here and have a picnic while some lunatic waited at the other side of the door.
Michael slapped the hairbrush against his thigh a couple of times.
“The guy has gone away,” Rachel said, and rubbed Ralph’s back. “Ralph hasn’t barked for a few minutes now.’
“Yeah, I figured as much.”
“What do you think he’ll do?” She shuddered and leaned her head on Michael’s shoulder. “Will he torch the place?” He rubbed her back and she knew he was trying to form some plan. But would they be burned to death, or would they die of smoke inhalation?
“No, I don’t think so. He knows we’re going to develop those photos. He wants them.”
Rachel pressed her lips tight and nodded.
“He doesn’t want to destroy us.” Michael squeezed her shoulders, pulling her closer. “He wants the pictures and that’s why I spoke loudly and had you give a time frame. Only problem is, in about one hour he’ll be back.”
“And then what?” Rachel murmured.
“Maybe he’ll ask for them.”
Rachel nodded again, but she didn’t really believe that. Michael was trying to put a positive spin on things. An hour was a long time. There were no sounds from outside the darkroom, and she knew it would be easy for the man to get rid of them, along with the photos, by setting fire to the place. She pulled in a sharp breath.
“What?” he asked sharply.
“With the chemicals here, and the gasoline for the boat, the place would…it would burn down in a couple of minutes.” Her heart pounded even harder, and sweat dampened her hairline. She seldom panicked, but the thought of fire…
Michael leaped up, grinning like a little kid, and tossed the hairbrush to her. She caught it, but couldn’t fathom his excitement. “The window,” he said, and pointed to the area covered with black plastic. He stood on the side of the tub and started to rip off the duct tape.
Oh, thank goodness. She’d forgotten all about it. “There’s wood covering it,” she said.
