“And?” Link asked.
“I thought Adam was writing them. He denied it, but...” She shrugged, as if it didn’t matter, but anger coupled with fear sparkled deep in her shimmering blue eyes. “I don’t know who is sending me the rubbish. I wish he or she had the guts to face me instead of creep around leaving those things.”
“What’s this inferno stuff about?”
“I don’t have a clue.” Her fists clenched. “I want to wad those notes up, ram them down his throat and watch him choke. At least I assume it’s a he.”
Link believed she’d do it; too, at least she would if she could ever bring herself to touch the paper.
“Of course, if I killed the jerk, I’d never know why he had kept sending them.” Scarlet spots appeared on her pale cheeks. “When they started to scare me, I called the police.” Jacqueline glared at the note, then looked him in the eye. “Cops are supposed to be able to figure these things out. Right? That’s what they’re trained for. Right?”
He nodded.
“The neo-Nazi officer I spoke to made me feel like an idiot. For all I know, he’s the one who keeps sending me this trash.” Her fist hit her other palm with a resounding smack.
“Why do you suspect him?”
The knuckles on Jacqueline’s fist turned white. “His attitude for one plus the fact that I discovered that he'd thrown the report out.”
Link frowned. “Did you get the feeling he knew about the notes, and was mainly interested in your reaction?”
“Maybe, but at the time, I had the impression he thought I was trying to get attention and making up a story to exonerate Adam.”
Link gritted his teeth as he tried to follow her explanation. “Exonerate him from what?”
“The week before I received that note, the Fire Marshal had declared that Envirohab’s fire was arson and Adam’s death was a suicide, which meant that his life insurance was void and I was broke. The officer seemed to believe that I was trying to find a way to change the cause of death so I could collect the insurance.” She took a deep breath as she shook her head. “Not that I couldn’t use the money.” She cleared her throat. “Assuming it was arson, I’m positive Adam didn’t set it.” Her trembling finger pointed at the wrinkled paper. “If it really was arson, I think whoever keeps writing these notes, with their fire themes, did it.” She swallowed hard. “That means my husband was murdered.” Jacqueline took three deep breaths. “But, like that neo-Nazi officer pointed out, I could have made up the damned note or Adam could have written it before he died and I only found it later.” She blinked away tears. “All I know for certain is that after the officer left, I found his report crumpled up in the prickly pear patch near the front door.”
Link touched her hand.
“I’d hoped the crane was the last, and I’d run far enough away, but it wasn’t.” She shook her head, apparently unable to finish the thought.
“Crane?”
She nodded. “It came the same day Envirohab’s grant was canceled. Can you believe the timing?” She gave a strangled laugh.
“When was that?”
“Sixteen days ago.” She looked small, defenseless, fragile and cold. Link wanted to hold her. Warm her. Protect her. But he knew she’d never let him. “I came home from one of the worst days of my life, stepped into my kitchen and there it was on my table, under a sprig of plumeria and in the center of a sunbeam.
“Obviously, whoever had left it had been in my house.
“I was desperate to get away and I started thinking about Grandma and how good it would be to see her. So, I packed up my car and ran. Then, halfway here-“She fought to control her breathing. “I found a note in my car. If all that wasn't bad enough, no sooner did I arrive, then Grandma sent me off with you.” Jacqueline rubbed her temples, as if she had a headache.
“And you pack a book, which just happens to have another message in it. Rotten luck.”
Jacqueline shook her head. “I borrowed that book from Grandma. For the note to get inside it, either Grandma has been sending them or the psychopath somehow found a way to put it there. And I’m positive Grandma hasn’t been sending them.”
“Shit.”
“Oh, yeah, you got that right,” Jacqueline said. “Several times on the way up, I felt like someone was watching me and I thought he was driving the same old blue pickup I caught a glimpse of, but I never got close enough to be certain.”
“That’s why you kept looking out the back window. I thought my driving gave you the heebie jeebies.”
Suddenly, her eyes began to glisten with tears. “Oh, Link, thank you.”
“For what?”
“For believing me. For understanding. For listening.”
“What else did you— ” A tear rolled down her cheek. It took everything he had not to touch her, cradle her in his arms, and kiss away her pain.
Link grabbed the paper and held, in the hope it would be a shield between himself and temptation. Her gaze fixed on his hands, her expression brooding. “What are you thinking?”
“That whoever leaves me these notes must have some sort of sick fantasy about me.” Link frowned. “See how obsessive his images are?” Her trembling finger pointed at the sloppy writing. “Scorching strand. All kinds of in-in-infernos: endearment, desire, love, passion, ardor, delight.” Her index finger jabbed the air inches above each word as she spat it. “It’s sick the way he combines images of love with hell.” The little hairs on the back of Link’s neck quivered. “One note said something about feelings going up in flames. I burned it.” A tear rolled down her cheek. She wiped it away with the back of her hand. “I felt so smug when I set that note on fire, like I’d beaten the pervert at his own game. Two weeks later, Adam burned to death.” Jacqueline’s breathing sounded like she’d jogged up a mountain.
Link took her hand in his. Seeing her tan fingers against his palm intensified his impression of how small yet tough she was. He gently squeezed. “Do you think you caused his death?”
“Yes.” The admission was barely discernible.
He shook his head. “More likely, it was a coincidence.”
Her entire body trembled. “I thought three thousand miles would be safe. It isn’t. I thought the middle of the wilderness would be safe, but it isn’t, either.”
Link put his arm around her shoulder and half-hugged her while he studied the childish script scrawled over the crumpled paper. “You can’t be sure he followed you.” Jacqueline made a disagreeing sound. “He couldn’t have followed us this far north from Valdez. So, we have all vacation to figure a way to permanently free you from this lunatic.”
“Two weeks. I’d forgotten.” Jacqueline kissed his cheek, then shook off his arm and sat back on her heels. “I’ve never been able to figure out what could obsess a guy enough to follow a woman from Tempe, Arizona to Fairbanks, Alaska. You’re a guy, why would you do something like that?”
Great, now she was lumping his motives in with some psycho’s, who obviously had a fire fetish. “What makes you think he followed you to Fairbanks?”
“Midnight wasn’t where I remember packing it this morning.” She rubbed warmth into her upper arms.
“Or Tempest snooped, while your bag was in her room.” Though possible, it didn't explain the orca's presence. Tempest wouldn’t have known that Jacqueline considered origami a threat, so if it was already there and she was snooping, she would have left it. Which meant someone had placed it there after she had borrowed Mavis' book.
Jacqueline swallowed, then took a deep breath. “I am certain I put it on the bottom. Someone went through my things after we left Stone and Ariel’s and tempting as it is to blame Tempest, she hasn't had an opportunity to snoop.”
This was worse than Link had expected. How could someone follow him when he’d used the company plane? Anyone who knew about private aircraft; anyone who could read tail numbers; anyone willing to check the flight plan.
Link massaged his own temples.
When he’d
met Ariel and Tempest, a killer had been after them, but they’d known who wanted them dead and why. If a hunter pursued his prey for days, weeks or years, as the kid was suggesting, shouldn’t intelligent prey know who and why? Jacqueline’s innocent bafflement had to be the best acting he’d ever seen.
What was she hiding? Why lie to him? Did her stalker want her dead? When Peter had caught up with Ariel and Tempest, he’d lashed out with such fury that no one had been safe. Would Jacqueline’s stalker become a threat for the rest of them? Unwilling to follow that line of thought, he focused on the note’s odd message. Why the allusions to a combination of love and hell? Had her husband really died, as she’d said? Had she been married? If so, how old had she been? Twelve? Thirteen? Younger? What sort of creep had the man been?
Too many questions, not enough answers.
Link stood up so quickly he bumped his head on the tent’s low ceiling. “I need to clean the fish.”
“I’ll help.”
Later, when Link settled into his sleeping bag, his thoughts were still a chaos of unanswered questions. Falling asleep, he dreamed about menacing shadows chasing Jacqueline. As a dark wisp wrapped around her, a voice shouted, “Link.”
Heart hammering, Link sat bolt upright. Pale green light filtered through the tent. Phillip made a soft chuffing t-t-t-t-t-t-t sound in his sleep.
As his heart slowed, Link recalled a forgotten incident the previous year. He’d come home to find Tempest sitting on the back yard picnic bench, sobbing her heart out. Not knowing what else to do, he sat down, put his arm around her shoulders and listened to her pour out her woes, much as he’d done with Jacqueline earlier that day.
Tempest’s problem had been simple: she hated school because, as the new kid, she felt like no one liked her. He’d told her he liked her. She sobbed that she’d never have a boyfriend because she was too stupid and ugly. He told her she could say he was her boyfriend. He meant to boost Tempest’s ego, and he’d thought his comment was harmless.
If only he’d realized she was taking him literally. No wonder she’d gotten the idea that he belonged to her! He’d made the problem, now he had to find a way to fix it.
But Tempest’s attitude was a mere annoyance while Jacqueline’s could be life and death. What could have happened in Jacqueline’s past to motivate anyone to pursue her over so many years and miles? He frowned. Her tale of woe and pursuit seemed too farfetched to be true. Yet he’d learned that fact was often stranger than fiction. Still, why would anyone follow another person so damned far? He frowned. While Jacqueline seemed competent and intelligent, the cop hadn’t believed her. But what would she gain by folding that whale and writing the note?
Attention?
Sympathy?
If she was as manipulative as Tempest could be, he’d fallen into her trap. Worse, he liked Jacqueline’s company so much that the snare felt good. Sitting there in the softly undulating tent, Link admitted that he was attracted to Jacqueline even though she was only a kid.
Liked her way too much for a kid.
Link punched his pillow.
Phillip grunted and rolled over.
Had she really been married? If so, Mavis had never mentioned the guy.
What if she’d murdered her husband, assuming there had been a husband, and used the notes as a deception, like the cop had figured? That scenario seemed more likely than the officer tossing away a report. The sheen of perspiration chilled him. If she’d been married, why was her name still a Cardew?
None of it seemed logical, yet she didn’t seem like a liar. How could he feel so close, so attracted, to a possible murderess and probable liar? Link punched his pillow again and tried to clear his mind of all frustrating thoughts.
The following morning, Link ignored Tempest’s glares as she sullenly settled into the middle of Carmen and Phillip’s canoe. Jacqueline perched in the front of Link’s canoe, which floated low in the water, heavy with its burden of equipment, her paddle poised, as she waited for him to push them off the sandbar.
Link heaved the equipment-laden canoe into the water, then leapt into the stern. A moment later Jacqueline dipped her paddle into the frigid water and expertly sent them across the current to a calm section. With another deft stroke, the canoe stopped.
Paddle poised, again, Jacqueline waited and watched the other canoe.
Link settled onto his seat, gripped his paddle and watched Phillip stand in the stern and try to push the craft off the sandbar with his paddle. The other canoe rocked violently. Carmen grabbed the gunwales as she pitched sideways, then, she held on for dear life. Tempest fell forward and seized Carmen’s shoulder. Carmen yelped. The canoe tilted toward the icy flow. Tempest squealed. Phillip tripped backward and landed on top of them.
The boat lurched into the current.
It was going to be a long two weeks.
“Amazing,” Jacqueline muttered.
Link wished Jacqueline’s bulky sweatshirt didn’t camouflage her figure, then he chastised himself for having such thoughts about a mere kid.
With much splashing and minimal headway, Carmen, Phillip and Tempest pointed their boat downstream. Link positioned his paddle for a stroke. Though Jacqueline didn’t turn around, their paddles dipped into the freezing water at the same moment and their canoe effortlessly joined the flow.
As the air warmed and the glare increased, Link discovered that every stroke was as unified as the first. He’d never had such a compatible partner. Such a confusing partner. Or such a captivating one.
Link’s thoughts kept returning to Jacqueline. He had the sensation that he had known her for years. That strange sense of familiarity made it easy to talk with her.
This was defiantly going to be the longest two weeks of his life.
Ahead the sunlight glinted off Carmen’s blond curls, momentarily giving her a halo. Carmen could be the worst hellion he knew, yet she possessed more good qualities than bad. The fact was that, for the last few years, he’d missed her like crazy, so much so, that he’d adopted Ariel as a substitute sister and Tempest as his niece.
His mind traveled from the golden aura around Carmen to a different shade of yellow … the folded sheet of legal paper.
If someone was actually stalking Jacqueline, how had they managed to get the note in her bag? Furthermore, how much did Mavis know about Jacqueline’s stalker? Assuming she believed the story, could that be why she’d insisted on him bringing Jacqueline here?
Possibly, but it was difficult to imagine Mavis favoring running away from a problem, when she had always preferred to confront unpleasant situations. It was a miracle she’d never shot someone dumb enough to mess with her or her own.
None of it made sense.
Tempest and Ariel had endured a similar situation, but they’d known why Peter wanted them dead. Was Jacqueline lying about her ignorance? Lying about everything? Despite how his thoughts circled, they always seemed to come back to that question.
Link swallowed hard, but the lump in his throat remained.
Hours later, Carmen’s voice rippled upstream. “Bear to the right.”
When the other canoe rocked instead of changing course, Link shaded his eyes. Phillip threw down his paddle, grabbed his can of pepper spray and looked frantically to the west. Link helplessly watched Carmen flail away with her paddle while Phillip looked for the danger and their canoe plowed straight into a sandbar.
Carmen fell forward into the prow and Tempest shrieked as she tumbled into Carmen’s now vacant seat. Can of pepper spray clenched in one hand, oar gripped in the other, Phillip pitched to the right and landed headfirst in the numbing water. For a moment, time stood still and Phillip stayed in a rigid headstand, his ankles and sneakers above the water, then the angle changed and his feet disappeared beneath the water.
Jacqueline’s paddle dug into the water and their canoe shot forward.
The aerosol can bobbed to the surface. For a heart-stopping moment the can and a few bubbles were the only sign of him. When
he resurfaced, Jacqueline expertly maneuvered their canoe alongside. Link grabbed the back of Phillip’s shirt and Jacqueline immediately drove their vessel into the sandbar.
As he hauled Phillip out, he thought he’d never known another woman who could steer a canoe better from the front than most people could from the back. Even though the rescue had been efficient, by the time they beached the canoe, Phillip’s lips were blue. “We need a fire.” Jacqueline heaved their canoe ashore. “Link, get out. Phillip, take off those wet clothes. Carmen, pull your canoe up and secure it. Tempest, get a fire started – now.”
Tempest looked ready to scream. “You heard her,” Link snapped, “do it.” He grabbed a sleeping roll in one hand, Phillip’s waist in the other and waded onto the sandbar.
When Carmen didn't move, Jacqueline secured both canoes, then knelt in front of Carmen, who was holding her face and crying. Her tears were mixing with blood. Link shoved Phillip toward a large rock, threw a blanket around his shoulders, then rushed to Carmen. “Are you all right?”
Carmen stared mutely at him though a veil of tears and shook her head. “She needs her nose reset.” Jacqueline’s confident tone amazed him. “I’ll see to it. Get Phillip stripped before hypothermia sets in.”
“But— ”
“Now.” Link didn’t move. Jacqueline turned to him. “I’ll take care of Carmen. Phillip has to get warm.”
Link knew she was right. As he went to Phillip, he heard a sharp snicking sound accompanied by a gasp from his sister. “Oh,” Carmen said, “that feels better.”
While Link helped Phillip out of his sodden clothes, he watched Jacqueline skillfully bandage Carmen’s nose.
Tempest returned with an armload of dried grass and glared at Carmen. “Next time say steer. No, that won’t work, he’d look for a damned cow. Say turn.” She pivoted to Phillip. “And you, dump the worthless can and keep your damned paddle in your hand.”
Passion's Fire Page 7
