Chapter Three
At 10:00 p.m. Emma’s car labored up the trail to Loon Lake. Frasier snapped on his outdoor light and stepped out onto the verandah into the warm autumn darkness, the Pug under his arm. He didn’t trust the little dog not to run in front of the moving car. After she’d braked to a stop, he placed him on the planks and let him scamper down the steps to meet her.
“Bruise! Hi, my boy! I missed you. Have you been good for Frasier…I hope?” She scooped the little dog up into her arms.
“Didn’t expect you home until the wee, small hours,” he commented, coming down the steps to join them. She’d swapped her antebellum getup for jeans and his chambray shirt.
“It was a long day, the music matched my outfit, and…” She hesitated, then continued looking up at him when he stopped in front of her. “I had this sudden desire to come home.”
“Missed the little guy, did you?” Frasier tried to ignore the gentle innuendo in her final words as he reached out to rub the Pug’s head.
“Yes.” The word continued the nuance.
“Well, no need to worry. He had a great time roughhousing with Scout.”
“Good.”
“You changed your clothes.”
“I couldn’t stand all those buttons and bows. The minute the reception ended, I dug these jeans out of the trunk and put on this shirt you so gallantly loaned to me.”
“Glad it came in handy.”
They stood staring at each other in the mysterious darkness of the wilderness night. An owl hooted back in the bush, a coyote howled. Bruiser shuddered.
“The little guy isn’t comfortable out here,” Frasier heard himself saying. “Would you like to come in for a nightcap? I have a bottle of Chianti.”
“Sure, why not?” Emma didn’t hesitate this time.
Following her up the steps, he told himself he’d invited her in because it was wise to get to know your adversary. It definitely wasn’t because she looked and smelled terrific.
****
Ten minutes later they sat in Frasier’s cabin, enjoying glasses of red wine in front of a fire crackling on the hearth. The dogs lay curled up asleep on Scout’s dog bed at their feet.
“They had a big day of running and jumping,” Frasier remarked, looking down at them. “Plum wore themselves out, ma’am.”
“All right, that’s the last southern joke for today.” She grinned over at him. Then she sobered. “Frasier, I heard something strange at the wedding today.”
“Not about the happy couple, I hope?”
“No, no. But it was vaguely disturbing. I was talking to Roc Hard…”
“Who?”
“The exotic dancer who performed at Mandy’s bachelorette party.”
“Oh.” He felt a corner of his mouth twitching. “Roc Hard. Right.”
“Well.” Emma flashed him a disparaging glance. “He told me about an incident that happened when he was leaving here that night.”
“He was ambushed by a bunch of overheated women?”
“Frasier, do you want to hear what I have to say, or not?”
“Definitely. Go on.”
“When he left my cabin, he said he saw two shadowy figures running into the bush. Frasier, do you think someone was spying on us?”
“Naw.” He forced himself to be dismissive. “Mr. Hard Roc must have been imagining it. Too much gyrating probably unhinged his brain. Peeping Toms are rare up here. Unless…” He paused.
“Unless what?”
“You have a jealous ex who’s stalking you.”
“As if! Come on, Frasier, this could be serious.”
“Okay, okay. If you’re uneasy, I’ll get Scout to sleep over at your place. I guarantee no one will get past him.”
“Did I say I’m uneasy?”
“No.”
“Okay, so let’s just forget it and move on.” She took a sip of wine.
“Fine. Aside from the costume and the music, did you enjoy the wedding?”
“It was absolutely beautiful.” She leaned back with a sigh. “I don’t think there’s anything so colorful and romantic as a wedding that includes members of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Never mind that Mandy was a dream in a white antebellum lace gown. The wedding album will be amazing.”
“I assume you were included in some of these photos?” A thought flashed into his mind. ”With your escort?”
“Yes. He looked terrific in his uniform.”
“Him being?”
“Your university chum, Vince Roy, the officer who pulled us over on your way to town. Remember him?”
“Yeah.” Ah, man! Vince, lady’s man extraordinaire. He turned back to his wine, a chaffing sensation rubbing at his gut. Vince was not only far from ugly, he was clever, with a sense of humor that never failed to charm the ladies. “How did that come about? He called you for a date…like Jeff Cooper a year ago?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. History doesn’t necessarily repeat. He’s a good friend of Jeff’s. Seems there’s a brotherly feeling among a lot guys in the RCMP. Plus…” She looked over her wine glass at him, eyes sparkling. “Both Mandy and I agree. He looks like a poster guy for the Force in his red serge. And when he put on that Stetson to drive Jeff and Mandy away from the church in a carriage drawn by two white horses… Well, let me tell you, he had more than a few ladies’ full attention.” She fanned herself with her fingers.
“What about you? Do you plan to see him again?”
“Maybe. He did mention the possibility of our getting together for lunch or coffee. Why? Do you know some deep, dark reason why I shouldn’t date a member of one of the most respected police forces in the world?”
“No, of course not.” Green eyes taunted and teased, and he turned away. “It’s just that Vince had a reputation in university…like a love-’em-and-leave-’em one.”
“Ah, ha! A handsome, charming rake! How intriguing.” She chuckled. “Come on, Frasier, lighten up. I’m not a vulnerable seventeen-year-old, ready to fall hopelessly in love with the first Adonis in jodhpurs and shiny knee-high boots who comes along. Vince is a nice guy, but he’s not my type.”
“And your type would be?”
“Someone a lot more dependable, someone who’d be there when I need him, someone who wants a forever relationship, someone who’ll love me and only me as much as I’ll love him and only him.”
“Big shoes to fill. Kind of like the guy on the white horse thing.”
“Perhaps, but I’m not about to give up looking. Now how about some music? Think you can manage something?”
“Manage?” He got up and went to get his guitar from where leaned against the far wall. “Listen up, woman.”
****
When he paused for breath twenty minutes later, Emma leaned back on the couch, narrowed her eyes, and looked over at him.
“What?” he asked.
“I’m thinking I’ve seen or heard you somewhere before. You perform much too well for an amateur. Were you ever in a professional band?”
“Played a few gigs during my university days.” He chorded absently and avoided her eyes.
“Really?” Emma used the word that Frasier was coming to learn indicated skepticism.
“Yeah, really.”
“No big shows, no best-selling CDs, nothing like that?”
“Do I sound good enough for any of that?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, you do.”
“Well, I’m not. Now pour me some more wine, woman. I’m intolerable dry.”
“Frasier?” She paused, the bottle above his glass.
“Hmmm?” He strummed the guitar. Man, I’m enjoying myself…too much.
“Did you ever consider marriage?”
“Consider marriage?” His fingers slipped on the strings. “I guess like everyone has…in a general sort of way.”
“What does that mean?” She poured, topped off her own glass, and put the bottle aside.
“I mean I’ve never gotten up close and personal with
the subject.”
“Never?”
“Never. What about you?” Ah, ha, an opening. A way to start questioning.
“I’ve never gotten up close and personal either.”
“So what brought the subject to mind tonight?”
“If you think I’m going to say you did, you can put your ego away, Associate Professor MacKenzie.” She resumed her seat. “It was Mandy’s wedding, of course.” She leaned back, pulled her feet up onto the couch, and clasped her arms around her bent knees. “She and Jeff looked so happy. All that red serge and the shining boots and perfectly brushed Stetsons. Sets off the bride’s white to perfection…” She sighed.
“So you’re looking for a fairy tale on top of all that other stuff you mentioned.” He strummed a few soft, romantic bars and quirked an eyebrow, Clark Gable style, in her direction. “Guy on a white horse who never, ever trips over a Pug and falls on his face in the mud.”
“Come on, Frasier. You could be romantic if you wanted to be. Lord knows you have the looks.”
“No kiddin’?” Damn it, don’t blush, you fool.
“Yeah. Or…” She stood. “Maybe I’ve had too much wine and you’re looking better than I’d normally judge you to be. I’d better be heading home. Thanks for everything.”
“I’ll walk you over.” He put the guitar aside.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Frasier.” She headed for the door. “It’s only a few yards to my place. What can happen?”
“Bears, coyotes, and, with luck, an Eastern Panther.” He followed her outside, then grabbed her by an arm, brushed the door shut to keep the dogs inside, and yanked her back into the shadows of the cabin wall.
“What…?” she began, but he held a finger to his lips.
“Over near the road,” he hissed. “Moving shadows. Two men. Don’t move.”
“Frasier, I don’t—”
“Emma, quiet.”
For what seemed an hour but what Frasier knew could only have been a few minutes, they stayed where they were. Suddenly, down the trail, the wilderness silence was shattered by the roar of an ATV. As the sound indicated its retreat, Frasier stepped out into the middle of the verandah and muttered an expletive. If Emma weren’t here, he’d go after them, follow them, find out what they were up to. But he couldn’t in good conscience leave her alone, not even with Scout as her guard. Men roaming these mountain trails in the middle of the night were definitely suspect.
“What do you think they were doing, prowling around our yard?” Emma looked up at him. ”Poachers?”
“Possibly. Look, Emma, I want you to sleep over here tonight. It appears they’ve left, but I don’t think it’s safe for you to be alone.”
“Don’t be silly.” She brushed aside his suggestion. “I’ll lock the doors and windows. Both cabins have security systems. If you hear mine go off, you can rush to my rescue. And anyhow…” She opened his cabin door and let out the Pug. “I have a Dutch Mastiff to keep me safe. Good night, Frasier MacKenzie. Sweet dreams.”
****
Water and uneasiness cascaded over him as he rubbed soap across his chest. Those guys were pretty damn bold. Or desperate. He wished Emma had agreed to stay with him. He knew he wouldn’t get any sleep waiting for her security alarm to go off. What a night! To top it off, she thought she recognized him. Damn! He threw back his head and let the flow of misting water rinse his body. He had to get rid of her fast, before those prowlers got any more aggressive—or she had time to do any more remembering.
Ten minutes later he stepped out of the shower, toweled himself dry, and pulled on fresh clothes. Before long he had a pot of strong coffee brewing and the .38 out on the cupboard. It was going to be a long night.
He took out his cell and hit the professor’s number.
“Sir? Yes, I know it is late, but there’s been a development… No, sir, the lady hasn’t left yet, but there’s another complication. Two men lurking around the cabins… Yes, I agree, sir, I should be able to handle the situation. Normally. But now I have her and her annoying little dog to look out for, until I can get rid of them, that is… Yes, I will get rid of her. Sorry to have disturbed you, sir.”
****
His larder looked as bare as a bone that Scout had had in his clutches for a half hour. “I have to take a run to town,” he told the German Shepherd. “I’ll leave you outside to guard both cabins. I shouldn’t be long.”
Scout looked at him with sad eyes.
“I know, I know. You haven’t had a break in a very long time. Soon, buddy, soon.”
In Carleton, he parked outside the SuperValu store and strode inside, eager to get what he needed and return to the lake.
“Hi, Frasier.” A familiar voice hailed him as he threw a pair of T-bones into his cart. ”Eating for two now?”
“Vince. Good to see you. How are things with you?” He turned to face the officer, who was in civilian clothes and pushing a shopping cart, as well.
“Could be better. I’m hoping to get posted out of this little town to somewhere a man can at least hope for a promotion. Not enough action here. At least not for me.” He grinned at Frasier. “Some of us have all the luck. Panther patrol, Emma told me.”
“Yeah, well, as of yet I’m not sure if it’s good or bad. Vince, have you got a few minutes?” An idea had flashed.
“Sure, just as soon as I pay for this stuff and pile it into my car. How about a beer at the local watering hole, Joey’s Pub?”
“Sounds like a plan. Meet you there in fifteen minutes.”
****
“I seem to recall you were a Bud man, so I took the liberty of ordering for you.” Vince Roy indicated the sweating longneck on the bar when Frasier seated himself on the stool beside him.
“You’ve got a good memory.” Frasier took a pull on the beer, glanced around the nearly empty bar, and lowered his voice. “Vince, what do you know about Emma Prescott? What’s the local buzz about her? This is a small town. There has to be gossip.”
“You, Frasier MacKenzie, interested in gossip?” Vince Roy drew back in pretended shock. “I remember you as one of the least inquisitive guys in our dorm…about gossip, that is. You had that philosophy of evaluating people for yourself. Have you become one of those nosey old professors with nothing better to do than live vicariously?”
“I hardly think so. It’s just this particular lady. I’m getting conflicting images of who and what she is. I’d like to get the opinion of someone I know is trustworthy and dependable.”
“You make me sound like a faithful old hound dog.” Vince took a drink, then quirked a smile at his friend. “What is this really all about, Frasier? What are you doing up at Loon Lake?”
“You know about my project, the Eastern Panther.”
“Okay, okay, fine. Ghost chasing and pursuing Emma Prescott.”
“Get serious, Vince. I really want to know about her.”
“Okay.” He drew in a deep breath. “Well, there’s conflicting views. To ninety-eight percent of the people who know her, Emma Prescott verges on sainthood for her work with kids involved with drugs.”
“And the other two percent?”
“Think she may be involved in the business. The fire at her apartment a while back only enhanced their case. She didn’t initiate an investigation. In fact, she did all she could to foil our efforts. She said she didn’t want any kids hauled in for questioning, that it would only serve to widen the gap between her and them in the trust department.”
“Sounds like a logical if unwise reason.”
“To you and me, maybe. To those who aren’t in her corner, it looked like a cover-up born out of fear of retaliation.”
“I can see where it could look like that to people out to make her look bad.”
“Especially when we’re reasonably certain someone on the staff at Carleton High is involved in the drug business within the school. Well, got to go. I have a hot date tonight, and I have to start cooking that stuff I bought. See you around, buddy.”
“Yeah, see you.” The words sounded flat and absent-minded. Frasier MacKenzie was lost in pondering.
****
“Good evening.” Emma was sitting on her verandah when he came around to the front of his cabin from putting his ATV in the storage shed. “Any luck?”
“No.” He drew a deep breath and stretched tired muscles. He’d been riding the bike all day after another night of very little sleep. He needed a meal and a hot shower and a soft bed. He definitely didn’t need Emma calling out to him like a wilderness siren.
“If you need any help…”
“Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Would you like to come for supper? I made this huge turkey dinner, and there’s just Bruiser and me.” She paused and looked over at him, a little wistfully. “It would be nice to have company for Thanksgiving.”
“Thanksgiving. Do you know, I’d forgotten. I work pretty much twenty-four-seven up here, so holidays and such just sort of slide by.”
“Well, then, here’s one you won’t miss. Will you come?” She tilted her head appealingly to one side and smiled at him.
Man, she is beautiful. And I am hungry. And it would be nice to have company on Thanksgiving …even if I did forget about it until now.
“Thanks. Just give me a couple of minutes to wash up. Is Scout invited, too?”
“Of course. Bruiser needs company, as well.”
He turned and headed into his cabin, whistling.
****
“I brought wine.” Frasier tapped lightly on her screen door fifteen minutes later. He’d showered, shaved, and pulled on a pair of Dockers and a blue chambray shirt in record time, trying to tell himself it was simply because he wanted to get over to her cabin, have dinner and a quick look around, and return home in time to get to bed in anticipation of an early morning. But he knew this wasn’t the case. He wanted to be with the totally gorgeous Emma Prescott.
“Thanks.” She turned from draining potatoes at the sink and smiled. “Put it in the refrigerator, will you? I have a bottle of my father’s very best homemade white, chilled and ready. We’ll save yours for next time.”
Next time. She was making plans. The idea simultaneously pleased and distressed him. Damn!
Holding Off for a Hero Page 6
