The forest was so dense along the lake that the houses were completely private—you couldn’t see the lights of a neighbor’s though the trees at night unless you were on the lake. Diana didn’t mind the isolation, but as she turned onto the dirt lane that led to the house, she realized just how far away from civilization she was.
Ethan Murphy lived on the lake too, for he’d shown her how, when the dirt road made a triple fork near the lake, she turned right and he turned left to go slightly more south. Nevertheless, there was no more than a mile as the crow flew between their houses.
Somehow, the thought that Ethan Murphy lived so nearby both relieved and disturbed her.
The Lexus’s headlights cut beams through sudden, enveloping darkness as the car bumped down the road through the forest. The intermittent winks of fireflies broke the solid black, and twice she saw reflections of the eyes of some critter crouched by the side of the road. Of necessity, she drove slowly—between the potholes, the curves of the road, and the possible intrusion of deer, she had no choice but to do so. Bugs collected, thick and angry, in the lights, and as a result splashed onto the windshield like raindrops. So much for late-night swimming, Diana mused, shuddering at the thought of moths, mosquitoes, and deer flies swarming around her.
It was nearly pitch-black by now, and Diana was thankful that she’d left a porch light on, as well as two lights in the house. For, as she got closer, she began to feel inexplicably unsettled. Even nervous.
When she came to the fork in the lane, she tossed a glance toward the darkness where Ethan’s house would be and was surprised and, to be honest, relieved to see the faint glimmer of light through the forest. He was closer than she’d realized.
But that strange, prickling feeling of foreboding still disturbed her as she turned onto the tire-track lane that led to Aunt Jean's house. If she kept the house—which she wasn’t certain she would—she’d get this driveway paved. Or something.
But she wasn’t going to keep the house.
She didn’t think.
Driving here required her full attention, as tree limbs brushed into the car’s path and the ruts were enough to jounce the vehicle like a rough boat ride, even when it crept along at five miles per hour. How did Aunt Jean do this in the winter? She must have a four-wheel drive in the garage. Diana smelled a skunk from somewhere in the darkness—someone or something had gotten sprayed, and whew!—it was nearby.
The rank, musky scent was still strong in the air when she pulled up a slight incline into the clearing. The sedate clapboard house, with its three gables and large wrap-around porch and detached garage, sat in the center of an open area surrounded by trees.
In darkness.
Diana pulled the car up next to the pitch-black house and stared, her heart lodged in her throat. She knew she’d left the lights on—on the porch, and in the front hall and kitchen. She turned off the ignition and sat in the car for a moment, unease kneading her stomach.
Why was she so creeped out?
Steeling herself, telling her odd nervousness to go away, she slowly opened the car door. Perhaps she’d meant to turn on the lights, and had forgotten. But, no, she distinctly remembered going into the kitchen to turn on the over-the-sink light just before she walked out to take Jonathan to the airport.
Maybe the power had gone out. Though she wasn’t sure if that would be a relief or not.
Diana grasped the door handle and pulled the latch to open it, stepping into the night air. There hadn’t been a storm, but out here in the middle of nowhere, there could be other reasons for a power outage.
But Ethan Murphy’s lights had been on.
He probably had a generator.
The darkness of the forest hovered at the far edges of the open yard, and she glanced up to see the glittering display of stars. The Milky Way and a quarter-moon lit the clearing nearly as well as a porch light would, bolstering her flagging courage. She muddled through her key ring and located the key to the front door, then grabbed her handbag and stepped lightly up the porch steps.
It was a bit of a struggle to fit the key into the lock, shadowed as it was, and she realized later she could have used her cell phone light. Once the key slid into place, she had to rotate it one way, then the other, and back again before the knob would turn.
Finally, the door caved open into the dark house and Diana stepped in gingerly, her heart still doing odd things in her chest. She felt along the wall for a nearby light switch, and just as she was about to flick it on, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye.
Whirling, she gasped at the sight of the tall, murky silhouette, which froze. Then it was a flurry of movement, rushing toward her. A powerful shove sent her slamming full-force into the wall, the impact knocking all of the breath from her body. Diana slid to the floor, bracing for another blow as she blindly grasped for something to use as a weapon. But the intruder dashed past her—out the open door, stomping across the wooden porch and thudding down the steps.
Shaking, Diana managed to struggle to her feet in time to rush to the door and see a figure dashing into the woods.
Into the woods toward Ethan Murphy’s house.
Chapter Five
Fierce anger swept over Diana, and all of her fear slid away. Oh no you don’t!
Without a second thought, she picked up the keys, turned on the foyer light, and slammed out the front door. Not even bothering to lock it behind her, she ran down the steps, gripping the key chain, her lips tight and her eyebrows puckered so firmly that her head ached even more than from hitting the wall.
This was going to stop.
She yanked the car door shut behind her to punctuate her fury and determination, and cranked the key so far that the engine ground for a split-second before it caught. The tires spewed gravel from the drive into the air, raining onto the porch as she turned the Lexus around and started down the bumpy, winding lane.
Driving much faster than she had on her arrival, Diana had little care for the scrapes and nicks her beloved gold car would get from the tree branches. She rammed her head on the ceiling when she took one of the potholes too quickly.
But she didn’t care. She was shaking with anger now, instead of fear. But even as furious as she was, she remembered to feel around inside her purse for the can of Mace.
Although she had never been to Ethan Murphy’s home, she knew where it was and turned down the curving drive that could only lead to his doorstep. When her car rounded a sharp corner to face a closed garage entrance, she slammed on the brakes and turned off the ignition, leaving the keys in the car, and jumped out.
Blind fury drove her as she stalked around the side of the house, the can of pepper spray at the ready, into the small clearing…and stopped short.
Three men had turned to gape at her. They stood near a smoking grill. A floodlight illuminating the yard clearly indicated that they were in the midst of preparing to eat. The luscious scent of grilled steak permeated her anger, as did the casual demeanor of the men and the fact that none of them were breathing heavily from a dead-heat run. Nor were they dressed in black.
“Well, now, Ethan, you didn’t tell me we were gonna have company for supper,” drawled one of them in a voice she vaguely recognized. “Who’s that?”
Wishing the earth would open up and swallow her, Diana forced herself to start forward nonchalantly, crossing her arms over her chest to obscure the pepper spray.
When she stepped into the illumination, she heard Ethan’s soft exclamation. “Well, well. Diana Iverson, what are you doing here?” He eyed her warily.
Not the most welcoming of greetings, she thought, trying not to dwell on how incredibly stupid she felt. “I—uh…”
Words failed her, and stuck even further in her throat when she actually looked at him. Her gaze became trapped, fixed on a shirtless, muscled, lightly-haired torso that belonged to someone who clearly worked out a lot more than Jonathan did. Diana swallowed, jerking her attention away so that it bounced down over
his swim trunks, to legs that matched his abdomen in physical hotness, and finally up to a stony, set face.
“Is there something I can help you with?” His voice was calm, but even in the faulty light from a garage light, irritation glinted his eyes. “Unless you normally go speeding up someone’s driveway like the hounds of hell were after you, on your way to a neighborly visit.”
The man didn’t have to like her, but he didn’t have to be so rude either, Diana thought desperately—conveniently dismissing her own previous rudeness.
Hoping for assistance, she glanced at Ethan’s companions for the first time, and, with a flood of relief, recognized one of them. The other man, about Ethan’s age, with a lanky build and dark skin, wore a cowboy hat. He also looked familiar—but it was the older one, the police chief, who grabbed and held Diana’s attention.
“Captain Longbow, I’m so glad you’re here!”
He stood, unfolding a solid body topped by a worn baseball cap. Ink-black hair streaked with gray stuck out from around the hat in endearing little curls, giving the fiftyish man a boyish look. “Is ever’ thing all right?”
Suddenly, the impact of what she’d experienced rushed over her and, as her surge of angry adrenaline dissipated, weakness and shock flooded her body. What a stupid thing to do, she thought numbly. She’d chased after someone who’d broken into her house and assaulted her.
It was probably a good thing she hadn’t actually found the intruder. Even with her pepper spray.
Ethan must have seen something change in her demeanor, for he snagged a lawn chair and swung it to a place right in front of her. “Sit down, Diana. Do you want something to drink? Then you can tell us what’s wrong,” he added, glancing at Longbow.
“Yes, yes.” But then she began to babble—something she knew she was doing, that she hated herself for, but she couldn’t help it under the circumstances—and poured out the whole story of what happened.
Ethan thrust a cold bottle into her hand and she took a gulp of beer—then had to swallow the awful stuff because she wasn’t going to stoop to spitting it out. She hated beer.
Diana handed the bottle back to him and finished her explanation, “So after I stood up, I got in the car and—”
Ethan wasn’t slow. He knew exactly why she’d clamped her mouth shut. The woman had done it again—thought the worst of him—and nearly accused him to his face of breaking into her house. Attempting to hide his growing pissed-offness, he brought the beer bottle to his own lips, and, as he sipped, realized that her full, sexy mouth had just covered the very same opening. And it was warm. And a little moist.
Christ. What the hell was wrong with him?
He thought he heard a soft, teasing chuckle from Baxter, who was standing next to him, but Ethan didn’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it.
Instead, he drank again, watching Diana from beneath lowered lids while Joe Cap slid into police officer mode and began to question her.
Man, she’d come roaring up the drive like a maniac. Lucky she hadn’t hit anything on the way or spun into a tree. She wouldn’t have surprised them like that if Cady hadn’t gotten herself sprayed by a skunk—a regular happening in the summer that they were both used to, which was why he kept a stock of large cans of tomato juice. The black lab was currently locked away in the laundry room while the remnants of the juice bath did its work.
Ethan shook himself out of his mad. What the hell was wrong with him? The poor woman had come home to find an intruder in her house, had been pushed around by him—it could have been much worse—and all Ethan could think about was his own pride…and zero in on those full, sexy lips touching to his beer bottle.
“Are you hurt?”
His sudden question had her turning to him, her dark blue eyes large. They displayed more vulnerability than he’d yet to see, and something twisted deep inside him. Not good, Murphy.
“Nothing more than a bang on the temple and a bruise on the hip. Thanks for asking,” she added—as, maybe, an olive branch. Then, turning back to Cap, she said, “So I’ll need to file a report tomorrow?”
“Yep. Come down to the office and Helga or I will help you. Got any idea why someone might have wanted in the house? Was anything disturbed?”
Diana shook her head. “I didn’t stick around long enough to see. I had the crazy idea that I might be able to—uh—catch the guy.”
Ethan snorted. He folded his arms over his bare chest. “That was a smart thing to do.”
Temper flared in her face, bringing a sparkle back to her eyes and a slight flush to her cheeks. “I had this.” She shoved a can into his face, just under his nose. It trembled slightly. “Want me to try it out?”
He blinked, looking down at the spray nozzle that was aimed right at his mouth. At least her finger wasn’t on the trigger. “I guess you were prepared.”
And then, just because he couldn’t resist and because she really did need to be taken down a notch, and maybe also because he sort of needed to get close to her like he needed to draw another breath, he moved—fluid and sharp.
Suddenly the can was in his hands, and she was slamming into his bare chest, one arm folded back behind her.
The instant she connected with his body, heat shot through him so strongly that he nearly released her as quickly as he’d grabbed her. Thanks to his post-divorce moratorium, he hadn’t had female curves plastered against him for more than two years.
Diana’s eyes flared wide and her lips parted in a startled gasp. Her breasts rose with quick, shallow breaths, pressing against his chest, and one knee had somehow got cocked into his thigh. He could smell a floral, feminine scent from her hair, and felt the fragility of the narrow wrist he’d captured behind her back. For a moment, it was just the two of them caught in an awkward, intimate pose. Then with a short laugh to cover his surprise, he released her.
“Chasing after him—that was a foolish thing to do,” he said, handing her back the can of pepper spray and absolutely not looking at Baxter James, who’d snorted again in a poor attempt to hide his laughter.
Still, Ethan’s hormones were doing leaps and dives as Diana snatched back the spray can, turning away with pruny lips.
“All right then,” Cap spoke up. “Now that we’ve got that settled…how about I see you home, Miss Iverson. I’ll check things out and make sure nothing else’s upset.”
Ethan didn’t even consider offering to go along, for the frigid look Diana was giving him was almost making his balls shrivel.
He didn’t want to go anyway.
He wanted to put Diana Iverson and her issues out of his mind.
Aunt Jean’s house loomed dark and forbidding in the center of the clearing, with only the single light spilling out the front door. But returning in the company of a police officer did wonders for her perspective.
Captain Longbow led the way inside, and she followed, dogging his footsteps silently as he went from room to room, thoroughly checking them. He even looked in the garage. Nothing seemed out of place at first glance, and when they returned to the kitchen, Diana felt even more comfortable knowing that there was no one in the house.
“You’ve got sturdy locks and there’s no easy entry,” he commented in his snail’s pace drawl. “Looks like he forced his way in through that back window. You’ll want to get that fixed, get a safety lock on it and the rest of them. Doubt he’d come back tonight. You caught him in the act, he knows you’re home…and since he didn’t—er—attack you, violence is not his intent. I’ll send Helga down here a coupla times the rest of the night, though, so don’t worry if you see headlights. And I’ll let the sheriff know about the break-in as well. But are you sure you want to stay here by yourself?”
“I’ll be fine. Tomorrow I’ll come down and file a report, and get the locks changed again, but—”
“Again?”
She felt the slight flush of embarrassment creep over her face. “I just had them changed a few days ago.”
“Has the house bee
n broken into before?”
She might as well tell him, for the record. Just because she had been wrong about Ethan tonight didn’t mean he was innocent of everything else. “Ethan Murphy was in here the other day when I was in town. It was the second time he let himself in.”
The dawn crept over his face. “Ahh. So that’s why…” He blinked, and she actually saw the change in his face as he altered the route of his words. “How do you know that?”
“He left a…note.” As she said it, she felt even more foolish. Who would leave a note advertising a break-in?
The expression on his face echoed these thoughts, but manners obviously won out. Longbow just looked at her very seriously and said, “Now, Miss Iverson, I know you’re new to these parts, but Ethan Murphy is the last person you’d ever have to worry about in that way.”
She shot him a disbelieving look. “You’re right, I am new to these parts. But I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him. You may all be part of the good-old-boys’ club, and if I hadn’t seen him hanging out so casually tonight with my own two eyes, I would still suspect he was the one who was here this evening. He was taking advantage of my aunt, and her eccentric beliefs, and when I find the proof, I’m going to nail him.”
Longbow made a strange noise that sounded like a choking laugh, but when she turned to look at him, his face was deadpan. “Right, miss. Well, I sure hope for the professor’s sake you don’t take too long to…uh…nail him.”
Having the suspicion he was laughing at her, Diana drew her lips together. “The professor?”
“Yeah, that’s Murphy. He’s a bigwig down to U of C in the anthropology department—though when he’s up here, he’s just a regular guy who likes to fish and drink beer. Nasty divorce a coupla years ago, and—”
“The University of Chicago?” she repeated, frowning, and a tiny snake of uncertainty zapped her. Then, she regrouped. If that’s what he was telling people, including Genevieve, that was easy enough to check on. She’d do that first thing in the morning, before going down to the police station.
Sinister Summer Page 10
