Anna Carson
Catherine Jenkins
WindSwept Narrows
Book Sixteen
Karen A. Nichols
Copyright 2011 by Karen A. Nichols
Smashwords Edition
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Chapter One
Anna Carson knew it was a dream.
It replayed itself now and again through the years since it had been reality. She never tried changing things. Never gave more than a passing thought to the colors and textures of a place that had been home for ten years. As far as she could recall, at least.
They were dark haired. Twins. A boy and a girl.
They sat at the desks in the room they had created as their study, each working on their own homework assignments. But both had looked up when the door opened that led outside. Both looked from the collection of people entering. All dressed in dark suits, carrying briefcases. Three men followed the minder to the back of the house.
“Papers to sign?” Aaron asked with a slight frown, a straight shock of dark hair falling over one eye.
“Too much pomp for just signing,” Anna counted the suits, cast a quick glance at the housekeeper that led them into a room at the back of the house. “Something’s not right.”
Without another word, they closed their books, gathered things into the neat packs they carried everywhere and went up the wide, curving staircase. It had been the two of them as long as they could recall. A series of home school teachers. A housekeeper and cook. And lawyers who brought things to them to sign on a regular basis.
They turned fourteen that spring. It wasn’t one she was likely to ever forget. They had a minder, that’s what they had come to call him. They began asking in-depth questions at the age of ten and received honest, precise answers.
They were told they were orphans. They also knew there was something more that wasn’t being shared with them. It’s always in the eyes, Anna thought as they entered the room they used on the second floor.
Anna leaned back and closed her eyes. They’d begun building a second life just after their tenth birthday.
Aaron didn’t ask why. His instincts were to trust her instincts. He handled the money she filtered from their allowances. And he was extremely good at it.
Just as she was equally good at getting additional funds for their future.
No one questioned it. Teenagers always needed something. The image they presented when pressed were that of indulgence wracked teenagers always after the newest or latest something. Neither of them balked at allowing that image to remain in place.
“Got your pack?” Aaron asked as they moved quietly in their room.
“All ready. We need to leave, Aaron,” large brown eyes stared at her brother. “Now.” And she didn’t wait for a response, slinging the backpack into place and easing herself out the side window. A window they had prepared with a carefully shielded escape route.
And still, neither of them had asked the other why it was necessary. The last month they had removed a good many things that were important to them both, taking them bit by bit from the house and into the new location. Never talking much, just doing.
They were almost two blocks away when the explosion rocked the neighborhood. Aaron grabbed Anna around the shoulders, her palms up and covering her lips, silent tears rolling down her cheeks as she almost went to her knees.
“Missy…” She whispered, thinking of the woman who had laughed with them over breakfast each morning while she cooked and cleaned up around the modest house.
He was five minutes older than her. They knew that from the birth certificates they’d found, along with other papers that might be important in the room they weren’t supposed to have gone into. He turned her away from the direction of the police cars and fire engines. They had a plan to follow.
“I’ll meet you back at the house,” Aaron told her firmly, their eyes level. If only for a year before his growth spurt struck. “Are you alright?”
Anna nodded, drew in a shaky breath and hitched the pack on her shoulders, going to the bus stop and waiting silently.
She knew their plan. She had worked diligently to set things up, flawlessly and with little effort. It amazed her how little adults asked questions as long as things went smoothly.
They had deliberately allowed their hair to grow over the last year. If asked, she wouldn’t have an answer to why. She merely knew it had to be that way.
They rode off in separate directions, going to different hair cutting places and meeting back at the new address a couple hours later.
Anna used her key and entered the large, older house. It was less than half a mile from their old house. There were a lot of Carson’s in the city, she found out, easily able to use the old address of someone else as one of their previous ones when she registered them for school.
She smiled at the newly cropped haircut her brother sported. She had the hair color ready when he came in, listening to him grumble the whole time he waited for it to be able to be showered off. She only took him a few shades lighter. And it was just for a little while.
They both read the news accounts. There was no mention of them. A suspected gas leak caused the explosion, killing a housekeeper and two unnamed residents.
Chapter Two
Seventeen Years Later:
Seventeen years later, Aaron Carson frowned at the blank eyes staring out the large bay window in the dining area. With the help of manuals and money and lots of summers working hard, they’d remodeled the house into two very large sections with the kitchen and dining area central between them.
“You had a nightmare,” he said simply, pouring coffee and watching the thick, dark lashes blink as if only just returning from somewhere else.
“So?” Anna shrugged it off, shaking her head and glancing at the clock. “You have them, too.”
“They don’t show on me as much as they do you,” he tossed back, typical big brother logic.
“Thanks for the compliment.”
“Why won’t you take the sleeping pills?” He scowled as she bent over the sink, what he knew from experience was icy cold water being splashed onto her face and into her eyes.
“You don’t.”
Aaron just sighed. They’d had this line of morning conversation repeatedly over the years. Usually it meant she was finding bits of information in the nightmares masquerading as dreams.
“It’s weird that we go months at a time without thinking about it,” he leaned on the counter, his suit jacket shoved back
and hands in his pockets, staring out the same window she’d been lost in minutes ago. “Then all of a sudden, it’s back as if it were yesterday.”
“Sometimes it’s just little niggling questions…watching people I work with, listening to them talk about their families,” she shook her head, tucked in her tank top and pulled a sweater over her head.
“Wondering what happened to ours,” he finished the unfinished statement.
“Yeah…maybe…I’ve got a consult in thirty minutes,” she said, lifting her pack to the counter and checking the contents. Large water, phone, wallet, keys, datebook. “Otherwise, I’ll be at the nursery. Have fun…bye…”
His nod was absent, his own memory shoved back as he prepared for the day.
****
Carter Shipley did all his own foot work.
He enjoyed it. A modern day version of being on the hunt, he thought briefly. From his office window he watched the tall, lean woman leave her SUV. Her skin was sun flavored, even at the end of March.
Her hair barely touched her ears and dribbled in small curls over her forehead, wide hoops of gold caught a string of sunshine now and then as she crossed the parking lot, her head swiveling and taking in the area. Noting escape routes, he thought absently. She parked in such a way nothing was in her path, nothing blocked her leaving.
He couldn’t get a gauge on her eyes, she was wearing big mirrored glasses keeping that part of her locked inside for now. He leaned back in his chair waiting for the announcement, his hand out to idly close the folder on top of his desk.
“Anna Carson to see you, Carter.” Came the clear easy voice of his admin.
“Send her back, Nora…” He remained leaning, his hands resting over the closed folder as the mystery began. She opened the door, one hand rising and lifting the glasses to sit atop the unruly curls. There were few photos of her and none of them did justice to the woman standing in his doorway at nine that morning. At thirty-three she could easily pass for barely twenty-five. On a bad day. The eyes she had been hiding were large and shrouded with thick lashes creating a shadow of smudge that hinted at the woman inside.
The wave of fear that swiped at her made her grateful she’d passed on breakfast that morning. For an instant, she’d forgotten to breathe as she stepped over the threshold into the large, well decorated office.
The sign outside said attorney. But that wasn’t what she felt.
Anna looked around her, taking in the pleasant, unusual scenic photos on the walls, the thick carpeting and comfortable waiting room. The receptionist was in her mid fifties, lean and smiling at her.
The oppressive wave became more so as she followed the hand pointing to the office once permission was granted. Anna stood momentarily in the doorway, composing herself before lifting her glasses and gazing at the man behind the large, old desk.
“Carter Shipley?” She said quietly, closing the door and striding forward. She slid her palm into the one he offered when he stood up. “Anna Carson. You asked for a landscaping consultation.”
“Please, Miss Carson, have a seat,” he gestured politely before sinking back and watching her. She chose not to sit. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee or water, perhaps?”
“Nothing, thank you. Your message about the consultation didn’t tell my admin where the property was that you wanted to have evaluated,” she said smoothly, keeping her voice level and low.
He was staring. Oh, it wasn’t blatantly obvious, she thought. But she could feel his eyes taking in every inch of her and more. He was over six foot tall, lean and filled the dark suit as if it were a second skin. That skin seemed to be a naturally tanned shade, his hair was wave less, a dusty shade of blond and smooth without being forced into it, an occasional strand from the side parted cut came to rest on the gold framed glasses. Reflections from the room bounced off the lenses but didn’t block the pale green eyes watching her.
“No time for social niceties, Miss Carson?”
“You’re paying by the hour, Mr. Shipley. I’d have thought you’d appreciate expediency,” she countered, meeting his stare only to shiver. She should have turned and left, a small voice whispered. What she felt was too mixed to get a firm handle on, though. Part fear. Partly a new, unnamed tension inside her.
“I make it a rule never to do business with people I’m unfamiliar with, Miss Carson.”
“Did you pick my name out of a phone book, Mr. Shipley?” She notched a tiny one next to her name when she saw his gaze narrow. “Then I’m to make an assumption that someone recommended my company to you. If that assumption is accurate, you’d have only taken the recommendation of a trusted friend or associate. Who knew and could vouch for the work I perform.” She paused, her head tilted slightly. “Did someone recommend us, Mr. Shipley?” She asked softly, knowing the answer already.
“I saw one of your yard signs on my drive to the office,” he told her without blinking.
“That’s very convenient,” she returned with a small smile, falling just short of calling him a liar. She wandered absently, looking around the room. Pictures on the walls. Pleasant scenes, she thought, maybe places he’d been. But no diplomas. Nothing to brag about his accomplishments or achievements. She thought briefly of her brother. He kept all his accomplishments in his home office. He didn’t brag about things he’d gathered, either.
He had a nice sized monitor on his desk, a worn keyboard and several files. Books lined shelves on one wall. She stopped by the window. “You have a nice view,” she commented, staring into the wind blown waters of the Sound. “You haven’t had this office long.”
If this observation surprised him, there was nothing showing in the eyes that met hers. “We relocated from Seattle a few months ago when these were finished. I like the premise surrounding the waterways new ownership.”
“What is your business, Mr. Shipley?”
“Business law, for the most part. I dabble in other areas,” he offered with a casual shrug. “And you, Miss Carson? You’ve quite a successful business for barely being thirty-three.” He watched one dark brow arch almost to a point.
“That information isn’t on my website or my sign, Mr. Shipley. And has little bearing on my ability to do my job,” she said quietly, her gaze falling to the folders on his desk that were casually slid together into a pile. She raised her eyes to his. “I suppose we all have things that aren’t bandied about on bulletin boards.”
“As I stated, Miss Carson, I make it a rule to know someone before I do business with them,” he let his gaze follow the long legs and small heeled boots as she wandered around the room. Like a pacing tiger, he thought. “Hadn’t you heard about the customer always being right?”
“As we’ve yet to establish you as a customer, Mr. Shipley,” she said with a feral grin. “We can’t determine if you fit the category. When I’ve reviewed the property and drawn up sketches for you to preview, then you fall into the customer being mostly right. Very few of my customers have a clue which plants would thrive best in the environment they want established around their businesses or homes.”
“I’m afraid I fall into that category,” he admitted, the smile surfacing very slowly. He watched her pull an iPad from inside the bag at her side, her fingers deftly moving over the glossy surface.
“The information from my admin says you’ve recently acquired a property and want the landscaping to be as care free as possible with no mowing and plants suited for the climate,” she glanced up from the screen. “Is that fairly accurate?”
“You don’t believe in getting to know your clients, Miss Carson?”
Anna turned slowly, thoughtfully. She moved to stand before one of the large, curving windows that opened to the Sound in the distance.
“I don’t generally vet my clients,” she began cautiously, staring out onto the long stretch of low tide sand. “I check the address where I’m meeting them and make certain they’re legitimate people,” she turned and leaned against the wide ledge, her ankles crossed as
she studied him. “I let my admin know where I’m going and roughly how long I’ll be.”
“A smart, safe procedure to follow,” he commented into the pause.
“But you…” Her head tipped slightly, thick dark lashes slightly narrowed. “I’d be willing to wager you do a lot of homework before you contract with anyone. And before you accept anyone as a client. I’m fairly certain you don’t contact nurseries for consultations simply to seek out single women.”
“Only fairly certain?” One pale brow rose, the hint of amusement edging his voice and betrayed in his eyes.
“You wouldn’t need to. You aren’t blatantly sexual in the way you stare at me,” she considered her words. “It’s more like you’re trying to ascertain something and you’re doing the politically correct dance rather than come right out and ask.”
“You’d make a good, solid detective, Miss Carson,” he complimented softly, his hands tented thoughtfully.
“I have things I want accomplished today, Mr. Shipley,” Anna pushed against the ledge and straightened her shoulders. “I usually visit the site, take a few photos and go back to my office. I make drawings and then will contact you again, giving you several choices for the property. Usually three options that vary by price as well as design.”
“I was told that you were a strict business woman,” he said, the hint of his smile only making her frown a little more.
“I don’t play twenty questions well, Mr. Shipley. Unless you want information regarding plants and how to care for them,” she moved to the door, dropping her glasses over her eyes and pulling it wide. “Have a nice day, Mr. Shipley. It was…diverting…meeting you.”
“A moment, Miss Carson? Please,” he said quickly, waiting while she closed the door. He stood up and lifted the phone. “Bring the car around, Leo. Thank you. I’ll take you to the property, Miss Carson.”
“I can follow you in my car, if you don’t mind.”
WindSwept Narrows: #16 Anna Carson & Catherine Jenkins Page 1
