by Rebecca Rode
We started up the path that led to the large pinewood log lodge. A huge, weathered sign hung askew from a few metal rings that splayed dangerously open. It swung to and fro in the wind, twisting and turning. Despite that, the former elegance of the place was obvious. The grand entry, with its large, graceful portico and massive solid wood doors, screamed exclusivity. The long path leading to that grand display boasted overgrown bushes, planter boxes, and large sculptures. Despite how it was littered with forest debris, animal tracks, and even some tracks that were obviously human made, I could imagine how beautiful it had been when manicured.
“You weren’t kidding,” I said, grinning up at him. “This place is not only isolated, but awesome!” I couldn’t help but notice how easily he smiled, his smooth face lighting up. I could see how proud he was in the erect bearing of his broad shoulders as he took in my praise.
It really was stunning. The two story building rose up, taller than many of the trees, with large balconies on the second level that held small hot tubs and barbeques. They must have been the suites he told me about. The idea of staying in one sent a thrill through me. Plywood covered most of the windows, and the weathered exterior logs had aged a nice dark brown.
“Just wait until they get it back to its normal splendor. It doesn’t look like much right now.”
“It looks like Christmas morning. I can just imagine how grand it was and will be again. I’m so glad you thought to bring me here.”
One ski lift, bare of any chairs, snaked up the mountain behind the lodge next to a longer one that had a quad carrier still attached, sitting at the transfer site. The pile of chairs from the lift sat next to the loading site. While it was obvious where the runs had once been, large swaths of the mountain had minimal but growing bushes and trees surrounded by the larger, beautiful Lodge pole pines and spruces. It must have been something before the flash rainstorm hit six years ago.
His hand left my waist and took my hand in his strong one and squeezed it once. “I hope the interior isn’t too bad, so we really can stay here. I hate that we have to get supplies in town. I don’t want to run into anyone in trouble.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’d really like to spend every minute until tomorrow with you and you alone.”
“I’m not going to let anything get in our way this time.” Our first attempt at a romantic getaway had ended badly—with me in a Florida jail accused of murder—all because I couldn’t help but get involved in other people’s problems.
If it hadn’t been for Rick, my first true love and heartbreak, we would have been found out, and we would have lost our jobs. Relationships between handlers and their spies were strictly forbidden. As far as Division knew, Jeremy was in Siberia on a mission, and I was still in Florida, getting some advanced training in disguises with one of my old handlers, Cort. At least until tomorrow night when we were supposed to be back. I sighed, grateful that Jeremy and I still had the jobs we were made to do.
We tromped up the decaying wooden steps to the main deck to check everything out.
“I can’t believe your family owns this place.” The wood was soft under my feet, and we swung our hands back and forth as we climbed. To be able to leave it abandoned for so long had to speak to his family’s wealth.
“I can’t believe we let a broken bridge stop us from keeping the lodge open.” He let go of my hand and unhooked the sign and laid it next to the building.
“I’ve read about the wicked fast storms that sometimes come through here.” I picked up some debris and tossed it into a heavy metal trashcan near the door. “And I can imagine that a lot more than the bridge was washed away in that storm, including everything around it. I’m sure it would have cost a fortune to replace it.”
“You’re right. It was an expensive endeavor, but mostly my dad wasn’t inclined to spend all that money to improve the land when the government could pull back on the lease of the land at any time. He’s not a big lover of the government and doesn’t want to give them any more than he already does through taxes.”
“You don’t own the land?”
“No. It’s public land but we have a lease to build and operate the resort. The government kept refusing to sell it outright and when the bridge washed out, it was the last straw for my dad. He wanted to make them suffer by not getting money from us, I think.”
“You, know,” he said with a sly grin. “I wouldn’t mind a quick storm rushing through tonight. It would be fun to be holed up with you.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“We could build a fire and tell ghost stories.” He laughed, the sparkle in his eyes irresistible.
I shivered slightly. “Or we could build that fire and snuggle under a blanket while you tell me all about your childhood here, instead.”
Jeremy leaned back as if to appraise me more carefully. “Are you telling me, Christy Hadden, that you’re afraid of ghosts?”
“Well, no, I mean—not exactly.” I blushed furiously.
“You are!” I thwacked him playfully on the chest and hid my reddening cheeks behind my hand.
“These stories have been passed down for generations, by cultures all over the world. You can’t help but wonder if they have some basis in fact. And when you’re in a place like this,” I gestured to the abandoned building in front of us, “the stories feel more real than not.”
Jeremy grinned at me. “It’s all right—I think it’s cute. Unstoppable Christy Hadden, spy extraordinaire, thwarted by spooky spirits.”
I glared at him, though I couldn’t suppress a smile. “You take that back. I’m pretty sure I could totally take one in a fight.”
“I’m pretty sure you could totally take anyone in a fight,” Jeremy said, wrapping his arm around me and leaning in for a sweet kiss that lingered and made me forget all about ghosts and spirits. “In any case, a fire sounds good,” Jeremy said.
“I can’t believe you are a Canadian by birth.” I leaned on a boarded up window and looked out at the peaceful area surrounding the lodge.
“You knew that before, right?” He turned to me, his lips lifted up in a smile.
“Actually, no. We don’t ever talk much about ourselves, do we? I was hoping to find out all about you on this trip.” Knowing each other’s pasts could lead to big problems if we were ever kidnapped and forced to tell our coworkers’ secrets. But Jeremy and I were more than coworkers now. I would guard his secrets with my life.
It never occurred to me that Jeremy would have been born anywhere other than the U.S. “Your parents live in Calgary?”
“Lived. They live in Vancouver, now—British Columbia. Gave up the mountains for the sea. My brother is the one leading the charge to reopen the resort, but even he lives in Edmonton. It’ll be interesting to see if he follows through with it.”
“You have a dad and a mom and a brother?” I asked, a roguish look on my face. It was fun to find out things about him that had previously been considered secrets. Really fun.
Jeremy chuckled. “Surprising, I know.”
“You know all my secrets, but I don’t even know about how you grew up or anything.” I’d met Jeremy for the first time in Washington, D.C. when I was only fifteen and about the farthest thing from a spy imaginable. I’d thought he was a bad guy. A handsome bad guy, but a bad guy nonetheless.
“Well, you’re about to be immersed in my world. Calgary and the Kananaskis were my playgrounds growing up.” His face lit up this time and it made me feel excited to play in his world.
“I can’t wait to see everything and experience the places that helped make you who you are.” I couldn’t help myself, I leaned over and gave him a kiss on his cheek. He didn’t let it end there. As I began to lean back, he pulled on my arm and planted a hot, soft kiss on my lips, his stubble brushing against my skin. I smiled, his lips on mine and then kissed him right back.
He leaned his head on mine and whispered, “I hope I don’t disappoint you.”
A pleasant tingle ran through me. This amazing man was mine. �
�Never.” He’d researched me and my family thoroughly when I was fifteen and despite all the embarrassing truths he had to have found, he still chose to love me. I touched the dark shadow of stubble growing on his face. I liked the sandpapery feel on my hands, but not on my face. He reached up and took my hand, kissing my palm and smiling at me.
“Christy, I feel like the luckiest guy alive having you here with me.”
“Ditto.”
“You know, it’s going to be a dust bomb inside, but everything’s supposed to be covered, so it shouldn’t take us long to clean out a suite for us to use. We’ll buy some sheets and blankets, some stuff to dust and clean with, and we’ll be set.”
“Don’t forget the food,” I said. “I’m starving already.”
“Well, let’s get a move on, then.” He leaned down to put the key in the lock, but the door creaked slightly open at his touch. He looked back to me, his face suddenly alert. “It’s unlocked.” His whispered words made my whole body stand at attention.
Without having to turn around, I pulled up a memory of everything I’d seen as we walked up to the building, and all the tell-tale signs that someone had been there recently took on a new meaning. Two broken branches. A trail that not only had animal prints dug into it, but also footprints, the size of men’s feet, overlapping each other.
“Someone’s been here.”
Chapter 2
“DID YOU NOTICE THE TIRE tracks near where the helicopter landed?” I asked.
“Now that you mention it, yes. I should have been paying better attention. I was just so excited to be here with you.”
Tire tracks had been pressed into the soft earth, over and over again. In a mere second, I knew at least six people had been here recently as I easily recalled six different shoe tread tracks between the clearing and the tall, wide entry doors.
“A cleaning crew—or your family, maybe?” I held on to the hope. The long bridge had finally been repaired a few weeks ago. The family could have come to check the building out in that time.
He shook his head. “No. My dad would have told me when I called him about coming here earlier today.” There were no cars in the parking lot, and the windows were all boarded up. Except for the phantom footprints, the place looked completely abandoned.
“Maybe… teenagers?” I said, though a prickle of anxiety was developing in my spine. “Some kids looking for a weekend hideaway? Probably long gone by now.”
Jeremy frowned and prodded at the prints in the thick dust on the porch with the toe of his boot. “These look fresh.” Something unspoken passed between us, and we both reached for our guns. I stepped into position at Jeremy’s back and nodded slowly.
Jeremy pressed carefully on the heavy door —our bodies tight with anticipation, our go bags on our backs—then slammed the door open just in case someone was hidden behind it. It would knock a hidden person out. The door hit the springy doorstop and bounded back toward us. Clear.
He pushed gently on the door to reopen it and stepped inside, his footfalls making no sound as he scanned the room. I followed closely behind, checking opposite him. Nothing. We stood, silent for several heartbeats until it was apparent the room was empty. Many, many steps had been taken on the dusty floor leading in all different directions.
He signaled me to go behind the reception desk. I couldn’t help but notice the grand chandelier hanging from a long rafter. Furniture covered in white sheets was clustered in corners, and there was nothing to indicate anyone had used the place in some time. All surfaces were thick with dust—only the floor betraying the intruders. My heart pounded hard in my chest.
We made our way down the left hall, following some footprints, clearing each room: an equipment rental room lined with every kind of winter gear imaginable, a restaurant with stacked chairs and tables, a cafe, a mini store with empty shelves and coolers. A couple housekeeping rooms stocked with all sorts of cleaning supplies were on our left, with a laundry next door.
We had been silent until that point, but the idea that someone was still in the lodge seemed far-fetched since there were no cars in the lot and the place was completely silent. Jeremy risked speaking. “We’re about to hit the guest rooms.”
“I hope we find something soon,” I said. “The suspense is killing me.”
He smirked, then said, “Be careful what you wish for.”
I shook my head and smirked right back. As he rushed forward into the first room, I covered him, following close behind as we cleared each nook and cranny. I went first into the next room, and he covered me. Each time he brushed past me, a rush of heat and excitement raced through me. I loved working with him. His presence alone made me feel comfort and safety with every op we worked on together, even when it was only his voice I heard over my com.
We repeated that process eight more times through the lower level guest rooms, and while I was anxious to find the intruders and take them down, the excitement of the search filled me.
The bottom floor was clear. Jeremy signaled toward the second floor and I nodded silently. We took the stairs one at a time. We moved like cats, silent and deadly, seeking our prey. It had only been a few minutes since we’d entered the resort, but it seemed we were taking a very long time. Near the top, a stair creaked as Jeremy stepped on it. We froze, listening for any type of movement above or below. My heart pounded loud in my ears, making it hard to hear anything else.
When we heard nothing after a few seconds, we continued to the top and checked the rooms, one by one, still almost silent in our search. Finally, we got to the first suite. The room was spacious with a table and chairs, a nook with two arm chairs and two large sofas along with a large bed, dresser and night stands. I gave Jeremy a thumbs up and he waggled his eyebrows at me and whispered, “There’s one of these with your name on it.”
Tonight was going to be amazing in this place, and the thought occurred to me that it was big enough that maybe we could get away with only cleaning one suite. “This is big enough for both of us.”
He grinned, a mischievous grin glancing toward the bed. I reached up and taking his jaw in my hand, twisted his head toward the couch. I stifled a laugh, and he frowned before grinning at me. We slinked out of the room, the wide hall still clear. A yawning shiver raced up my spine as we walked toward the next suite. My spidey senses had suddenly come alive. My hand shot out and grabbed Jeremy’s arm. He stopped. I shook my head in warning. Whatever we were looking for, it was close. He gave me a trusting look and approached the door with caution. The area right outside the door was almost devoid of dust. This was it. It had to be.
The door was locked, unlike all the others. We listened for about fifteen seconds for any sounds to come from the room. There was nothing. I made quick work of undoing the old fashioned locks with my bobby pins, and we stormed inside like we were facing down an entire army.
Silence filled our ears, and the smell of chemicals and metals assaulted us. Nothing was covered with plastic or sheets like all the other rooms, and a lot of the furniture had been moved into one corner. Tiny pieces of wire, plastics, empty containers, butane burners, fuel cartridges, and general debris littered the room. The walls were darkened by more than just dust, and one wall had conspicuous white rectangles all over it as if some things were recently removed and were now gone. I put my hand to my mouth and nose and then brought my shirt up to cover them, hoping to stop the burn that found my throat.
Jeremy’s eyes found mine as we realized the terrible truth at the same time.
“Bombs.”
“It doesn’t look like a professional either.” I picked up a burned piece of wire. “Messy and unorganized.” I went straight for the trash can and dumped out the contents onto the floor, all thoughts of protecting my throat vanishing as the fumes and smells left the room through the open door. Jeremy headed for the fireplace where he sifted through some burned papers.
“There’s a slight heat coming off this fireplace, Christy. Very slight, but it’s there. If I had t
o guess, this fire is less than a couple hours old.”
We both stood and carefully made our way to the bathroom and closets to make sure we were alone. Normally, in a situation like this, we would have cleared the entire room and building before stopping to look at clues and evidence, but the sight was so shocking—and this was Jeremy’s family’s place. It was all too incredible, and we had been stupid to stop. It put us at great risk.
Both the closets and bathroom were empty. We checked the last four suites down the hallway, and after we saw they were clear, we headed back to the room. I picked through the newspapers from the trash. “I’ve got newspapers that go back weeks, but none for today. They’re all the Calgary Herald.”
“So, whoever these people are, they go into town every day?”
“Looks that way.”
“So they’ll be back…” Jeremy stopped right there, but kept sifting through the refuse, picking out pieces of paper.
“I don’t know. I mean, it seems like they cleaned the place up a bit.”
Jeremy snorted.
I scanned the room. A warm fire. No new, unused materials. “If you were going to come back here, would you take the bomb with you when you left? There’s no bomb, or partial bomb for that matter.” The room wasn’t clean by any means, but the bomb makers had taken anything and everything that they had used to make the bomb or bombs.
“True. And whatever was on the walls—plans, bomb diagrams, pictures of targets—they’ve all been removed.”
“I would wager that this little group of six managed to make their bomb, and they’re now moving on to the next phase of their plan.”
“You don’t think it’s going down right now?” Concern creased Jeremy’s brow. “Maybe they’re just getting into position and plan to act it out tomorrow or next week or even next month.” He ran his hand, now black from ash, through his tousled hair, the hint of a large bicep pressed on the arms of his T-shirt.
