by Jodi Thomas
Tim pulled his chair closer to her and said, “Tell me the details, Polly Anna.”
She shrugged. “I got tired of the party and took a walk.”
“What was your state of mind?” Tim asked as if suddenly the psychiatrist in the group.
“I was down. Thinking of jumping in the lake and forgetting to come up. I’m a total screwup. My arm hurt and I couldn’t find anything to drink around this place. Bad night all around.” She glanced at Lauren and they both laughed at Tim’s shocked face.
Tim interrupted their giggling. “Okay, forget your state of mind. Tell us what happened.”
Polly glared at him. “All right, CliffsNotes. About the time I got close to that cabin hidden in the woods, I heard banging. So I took a walk down the road and saw this guy kicking the crap out of the door. But he wasn’t very good. He had on dress shoes and a suit. One sleeve of his jacket was all ripped from where he must have tried to knock out the glass in the window beside the door. It was too thick and all he’d accomplished was a mess of elbow-size holes.
“I should have run, but instead I yelled, ‘What do you think you’re doing?’” She glanced at Lauren. “I thought he’d run or explain what was going on. That’s what they do in movies. But this guy turns around and takes off after me. I make it about twenty or thirty feet before he tackles me. He starts beating on me like I’m a punching bag and asking questions I had no answers to. When he figured out I wasn’t telling him anything, he started dragging me toward his car.”
Tim and Lauren were now on either side of her listening to every word.
Polly smiled, loving the attention. “I had a feeling this guy was going to kill me. I don’t have much reason to live, but I’d be damned before I let this thug take my lousy life away from me. He was dragging me by one leg and complaining about how I was way too much trouble.”
Polly leaned back in the deck chair. “I must have passed out, because when I woke up, I was in total darkness. It didn’t take me long to figure out I was in the trunk of a car. We drove around awhile. Pop says he was probably trying to figure out how to get out of the lake community without going past the sheriff’s house.
“When he stopped and opened the trunk of his Mercury, I think his plan was to keep beating on me until I told him what he wanted to know.”
She giggled. “When Lauren saw us, she yelled my name.” Polly looked at Lauren. “Great strategy by the way. While he was distracted, I hit him with the first thing I found in the trunk. I think I caught him in the eye and nose. Blood went off like an automatic sprinkler on full power.
“Next thing I know, Lauren grabbed my hand and we were off running. When we made it back here, the sheriff took over. He’s probably still out looking for the guy.”
“Shouldn’t you two be all locked up in the house?”
“Pop said the safest place in the area is here at the lake. The volunteer fire department woke up the whole community. The deputies from Bailee have a roadblock at the entrance and are checking every car.”
Polly agreed. “When we first came out, we watched all the lights coming and going. Then I dozed off knowing Lauren would watch over me.”
Lauren shrugged. “It appears to be my job.”
She leaned close to Tim. “Can you take over for a while? I need to make a call.”
She went to the kitchen and dialed Lucas. When she got his voice mail, she whispered, “Sorry I didn’t return your calls. Can we go back to being friends?”
The machine beeped and she closed her phone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Angie
ANGIE WOKE TO the silence of the country. She’d spent most of the night reliving every moment in the barn with Wilkes. Despite all the trouble, the late picnic dinner was a memory she’d cherish. Wilkes made her feel beautiful.
It was after nine when she made it to the kitchen. Wilkes probably had finished breakfast hours ago and was working in his study. She tiptoed past his door, not wanting to disturb him.
“Morning, beautiful.” He swiveled around and smiled.
“Morning.”
“Make yourself at home in the kitchen. I’ll be finished in a minute, then I’ll drive you to work.” He turned back to his computer.
He was polite during the drive, but the magic of the night before was gone. They talked of the weather and what she had planned for the day, but he didn’t touch her.
Once they got to the museum, he set up a guard station on the second floor of the museum so he could see both her office and the front door. Several of the ladies auxiliary were in the foyer trying to make up their minds on which quilt should go where and what each card should say beside the quilt.
Angie knew she couldn’t say a word to Wilkes without it drifting down to the ladies, so she worked in her office. She usually left at noon on Saturdays, but today she wasn’t sure where to go. If the police were finished looking around her cabin, she probably should go home and start the cleanup.
Absently, she twisted the necklace her father had given her in her hand. He’d told her to take care of it because no matter what happened in life, it would remind her of her mother and him. She did remember her mother wearing the original coin now and then, before they knew how valuable it was.
Having it appraised had probably started the feud between her uncle and father. Her uncle thought it should belong to the family, but her father wouldn’t turn loose of it. Finally, they’d agreed to display it in the store and sell replicas of it.
The day her father placed it in the case, he seemed to say goodbye to the one thing he’d inherited. He never went by to look at it again that she knew about.
Angie stood and placed her copy of the necklace in the old safe at the back of her office. Her one memory of both her father and her mother belonged on a shelf with an old book of the canyon and the bloodstone. The quilts and the fishing gear wouldn’t last forever, but she could pass this down if she ever had a son or daughter.
She pulled the safe almost closed and cried, really cried, for the loss of her parents for the first time. It was no wonder she had trouble knowing what was real or fake about people. Her one treasure from her parents was a fake necklace.
Moving to the window, she tried to get control once more. The beauty of the canyon always calmed her nerves. With each passing day, the feeling of belonging here in this wild land grew inside her.
She didn’t turn as she heard Wilkes walk into her office.
His warm hand slid along her waist. “You all right, Angie?”
I’m fine,” she answered, loving the way she could feel the warmth of him even though he was an inch away. Of course he’d heard her crying in the silence of the museum. And he’d come to comfort her.
His chin rested atop her hair as he stood behind her, pulling her gently back against his chest. “I know you don’t believe it, but all this mess with the stalker will end. He’ll either give up looking or we’ll catch him.”
Leaning into him, she agreed. “I have nothing of value. He’s bound to give up soon.”
Wilkes kissed her temple. “I don’t know about you, but I’m holding something in my arms that I consider of great value. There is a kindness in you, Angie, that amazes me. A loving way that silently pulls me to you.”
They heard footsteps coming up the stairs. For a moment he held her tighter as if not willing to let her go, then he stepped away as one of the volunteers hurried in.
As she helped Miss Bees with her question, she looked up to see Wilkes in the doorway. He stared at her and for a blink she read something new in his gaze. She’d seen anger, and desire, but this was different.
Just for a moment Angie saw love.
* * *
WILKES SPENT THE afternoon in the museum hallway staring at a journal he’d opened hours ago and had yet to read a page.
What in the hell did he think he was doing? He should have never kissed or touched Angie like that last night. She wasn’t some girl he picked up at the Two Step. He had no plans for his future. She was definitely a woman who wanted to grow roots and he had no idea if he’d be any good at long-term loving.
He stared at the book remembering the way she’d fit so well beside him as they leaned back on the hay and watched the stars. It had been cold, and he’d told himself the first time he touched her that he was simply keeping her warm. But she felt so good in his arms, and when she kissed him just because he told her to, he lost any sense of reason.
She did look beautiful. He hadn’t lied about that. He could so get lost in those big eyes of hers. He loved the feel of her against him and the way she reacted when he touched her. It took him a while, but he finally figured out she wasn’t afraid of him. The feelings he was making her realize were frightening her.
He loved waking her up to passion. Each time they kissed, it was a fraction deeper, a little more. He could never remember feeling so alive. When he’d moved his hands over her hips, she stopped breathing for a moment. He froze, until he saw her slow smile and he knew he’d done something right... No, not just right, something prefect.
Later, when he pressed his full palm over her breast, she’d let out a little cry. When he pushed harder against her sensitive flesh, she’d gulped for air and the desire to do the same thing without clothes pounded in his whole body.
But he didn’t go too far. He’d kept control, he told himself. Only now he knew he’d gone too far for his own sanity. She deserved more than a man without a heart.
He’d been awake all night thinking about her. The way she’d known how to help Yancy. The way she worried about Uncle Vern. How all the volunteers loved her. She’d become one of the town.
Wilkes stood up from his makeshift guard post and began to walk around the museum, wondering how he’d be able to beat himself to a pulp if he hurt Angie. And of course, he’d hurt her. That’s what he’d done to every woman since Lexie.
Never get too close. Never care. And if they started to care about him, Wilkes walked away.
Only this time, when he walked away, he had a feeling they’d both be hurting.
What had he done?
CHAPTER THIRTY
Carter
THE CANYON HAD a haze to it Saturday morning that Carter had never quite seen before. So beautiful, as it had been when he’d camped out by an open fire as a boy.
The air smelled of fall. The coffee in his tin cup tasted better than any cup he’d paid five dollars for in Dallas.
At times like this, where there were no mirrors or other people around to remind him of how old he was, Carter straightened tall, thinking himself still a young man. Inside he remained the soldier who went to war, and the father who carried his daughters on his shoulders and the husband who’d given one woman all his love and a lifetime of laughter.
He took a deep breath and realized how lucky he was.
This trip down into the canyon would be his last until next spring. And, for the first time since he’d gone down with his father, he wouldn’t be going alone. Jake Longbow and Vern Wagner were with him.
Jake had been up before dawn checking out the four-wheeler. Vern was frying up a dozen eggs. He’d dunked biscuits popped from a can into butter and cooked them in a Dutch oven. Not exactly the way cowboys of old did, but they’d taste great when they browned.
“Grub’s ready,” Vern yelled as if the camp held a hundred cowhands. Jake and Carter gathered round to fill their plates and sit in canvas folding chairs with holders on the arms for their coffee cups.
They’d found the rock corral last night before dark. While Vern made camp, Jake and Carter had circled around and found what could have been a road at one time. It was overgrown, but the ruts in the earth were still barely there. Then, just before dark, they spotted what looked like a trail leading down into the canyon. With their walking sticks, they figured it would be easy going.
It was all Carter could do to keep from heading down right that minute, but Jake said they’d go at full daylight.
Now Carter had to fight to stay still and eat breakfast. He knew the canyon wouldn’t be safe this early. They needed full light to see every step. But he was close. He could almost feel the stick figures near. They were waiting for him.
“Tell us again, everything you remember,” Jake said.
That was no problem, since Carter had gone over it in his head a million times. “We parked off the road by a pile of rocks that looked like they’d been stacked up into a square. Dad walked along the edge of the top of the canyon until he found a path going down. The plan was to climb down and make camp. Then he’d drink and I’d run around. But about the time we found a site for the camp, it started raining. My dad knew it would be dangerous climbing back up, so after we were soaked to the bone, he noticed a cave. The opening was long and narrow, just about right for a man to pass through.
“Dad built a small fire from branches and leaves that had blown into the opening. I think he must have passed out then. I took the only flashlight we had and went exploring. I slipped on wet rocks and the flashlight rolled. When it stopped, the light was pointing high on the wall. I saw these figures painted in white. Stick men with round heads and hollow eyes.”
Vern lifted an old pack that looked as though it had made it through at least one war. He stuffed it with water, then he finished off the eggs left in the skillet.
Jake’s pack looked new. It had the Double K brand on the flap. He packed flashlights and an emergency med kit. He also left most of his eggs for Watson.
Carter lifted his pack loaded with fruit and pulled out the map. “Now it’s light enough, let’s go over our route one more time.” Carter always marked his route and tried to follow it. Over the years he’d been lost a few times down in the canyon. He didn’t want that to happen today.
Finally, three old warriors stood as Carter whistled for Watson. The dog bounded out of the trees ready for an adventure.
They took the four-wheeler to the canyon edge. Jake planted an orange flag so they could see where the four-wheeler was even from the canyon floor.
One by one they started down. Stopping often to study the walls and outcroppings where a cave might be. Carter remained in the lead. He might be moving slower than usual, but he now had three sets of eyes watching. If his cave was down this path, there was a good chance they’d find it today.
The old familiar excitement he always felt ran through his veins and whispered that maybe today would be the end of his quest.
Carter guessed they were probably moving at half the pace a younger man and his son might have moved, maybe even less. If this was the spot where they’d climbed down almost seventy years ago, the wind and rain may have changed it, but only slightly. These canyon walls had been here for thousands and thousands of years.
A rock slide could have covered the opening of the cave. The water could have eroded the opening making it wider. But some hint of what had been here might still show.
Step by step they moved down into the canyon. What looked like an animal trail was still visible, but rocks the size of bowling balls blocked the path now and then.
Jake spotted a rattler curled on a rock five feet from the path. The snake seemed to be enjoying the last warm day. They left him alone and moved on down.
Two hours into the descent, Carter spotted a clearing big enough to pitch a tent. That’s where his father would have picked for a campsite. Only that day seventy years ago, the rain had started before they’d reached the site or pitched a tent. They had been too far down to climb back up, and there was great danger if they stayed on the path.
Carter felt his heart pounding, remembering how frightened he’d been. What if this was it? He and his father must have made it to about this
spot.
“Let’s stop here.” Carter raised his hand. “We can rest and study the walls.”
Vern and Jake lowered their packs, but Carter stood impatiently.
He was too excited to rest. For once, after all the years of searching, this spot felt right. He took one more step and then another. Three more, and he saw what he thought was a shadow on the rocks.
For a moment he just stared, then he made out the opening not much taller than a man.
“I think I found something,” he yelled and the other two joined him.
All three stared. Maybe thirty feet off the path, hidden from three sides by rock overhangs, was an opening to a cave. Exactly as Carter remembered it.
The men moved slowly toward it. Vern stumbled once over a rock, but he caught himself with his hand. He left a bloody print, but he didn’t stop. He simply pulled the bandanna from his back pocket and wrapped the hand.
When they were three feet away, Vern and Jake stopped.
Carter glanced back at them.
Jake spoke first. “Go on in, Carter. This is your quest. You should be the one to see it first.”
Vern nodded his agreement. “We’ll give you time to walk in and say hello to your friends, if the stick men are there. When you’re reacquainted, if you’ve no objections, Jake and I would like to be introduced.”
Carter clicked on a flashlight and started in. He was a little boy again, afraid of the dark, afraid of what he might find in the cave.
Two feet inside, the air turned cold, and he heard the wind whistling through the cave and swore there was almost a melody to the sound. He could hear water dripping off the ceiling of the cave one drop at a time and knew if he caught a drop, it would be cold in his hand.
He carefully took one step after another. His heart pounded so loud he had no doubt his friends could hear it outside the cave.
Deeper and deeper he moved into the darkness until he saw no light from the opening. There was a stillness here. As if all the world had vanished.
