More Than Words, Where Dreams Begin: Black Tie and PromisesSafely HomeDaffodils in Spring

by Sherryl Woods

  Dangerous ground, Winslow. Watch that next step. If you fall here, it could be a long one.

  Still, she could hardly say no, given that she had been the one who had done the asking. “Sounds like a good plan, but I can’t do anything until Hannah and I figure out our plans.”

  He studied her lazily. “So how’s your sister doing?”

  Sara summoned a smile. Lying had never been easy for her. “Oh, Hannah is fine. She went to Flagstaff for some supplies. She should be back tomorrow. Late,” she added casually.

  “I’m glad to hear it. It gets lonely up here. Sometimes you have to leave for a change of pace.”

  He sounded genuine and completely sincere.

  Uncomfortable about her lie, Sara put her empty coffee cup in the sink. She needed to change the subject and reestablish some distance between them.

  When he pushed away from the counter, she could feel the unwavering force of his gaze on her face. “Well, I should go. I’ve got two stops to make.” He rested his cup in the sink next to hers.

  Their fingers touched for the barest space of a second.

  It was enough. Even that brief moment of contact made Sara feel oddly restless. “I certainly don’t want to keep you. Clearly, you’re a very busy man.” She moved awkwardly to the door and held it open. “Have a good day, Deputy McCloud.”

  “Call me Jesse,” he said quietly. He pressed something into her hand. “Here’s the dispatcher’s number in town. They can reach me anytime.”

  Sara shoved the number into her pocket without looking and gave a jaunty smile. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll be just fine.”

  And she meant it. He seemed nice enough and heaven knew he was easy on the eyes. But having a man in her life? No, she wasn’t interested. Not even slightly. She was going to pack up her camera and go for a walk. She hadn’t had time to see any of the country near the cabin, and Sara was convinced if she looked hard enough she could find a clue to her sister’s disappearance.

  After all, seeing things was her business.

  * * *

  She found her first clue under a young cottonwood tree up the slope from the driveway. Sara wasn’t sure what it meant, but it appeared that someone had stood beneath the tree, smoking. There were a dozen or so cigarette butts on the ground, but she wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been looking. Hannah didn’t smoke—at least she never had before.

  No indication of a boyfriend or roommate.

  Dropping a cigarette butt in dry country like this was dangerously irresponsible, but this went beyond being irresponsible. Someone had been watching the cabin. Someone standing motionless and silent.

  Planning.

  Sara felt a cold touch of fear. She gave herself one more day, and after that she was going to call the deputy sheriff. She was also going to hire a detective, though it would strain her meager savings. She couldn’t dismiss her fears any longer.

  Worry left her oblivious to the beauty of the red cliffs and the blindingly blue sky. She continued to search for any sign of something that Hannah might have dropped, but she came up empty. Even Hannah’s car was gone.

  The missing car could mean that her sister had simply gotten restless, nothing more. Except Hannah would have let her know via e-mail or a terse phone call. She knew that Sara was a champion worrier.

  At the edge of the rocky wash that snaked across the road below the cabin, Sara found her second clue. It had rained not long before, and the ground was still damp beside a mound of low, spiky grass. Nearly hidden by the dense greenery was a trailing outline of feet captured in the drying mud. The feet wore athletic shoes, cheap sneakers, heavy work boots. Some feet wore rough shoes with tire-tread soles.

  She stared down at the footprints. Why would a dozen people walk through this isolated wash? Hikers or weekend visitors maybe?

  She continued to stand motionless, staring at the marks in the wash. She didn’t dare go any farther into the vegetation, not after her rattlesnake encounter. The wind seemed to snap through the grass as she studied the ground, trying to understand the meaning of those chaotic footprints left in the mud.

  What had her sister gotten involved in?

  * * *

  By noon Sara had been through most of the cabin, all of the yard, the garage and the tiny shed at the far side of the gravel driveway. Her house key opened all the locks, and she had looked in every corner, shifting aside boxes and old papers feverishly. Nowhere was there anything to explain her sister’s disappearance. She did find several surprising things during her search—a course syllabus from Northern Arizona University, bank statements that showed a slow but steady stream of work deposits, and a neat notebook filled with handwritten reports about her duties for Liz Stone. Clearly Hannah was taking her job seriously. Not only did she oversee repairs to the roof of the main house, but she maintained the irrigation system and had begun to research how to restore the ranch’s peach orchards to their former glory. Any one of those jobs would have made Sara blink in surprise. When all three were added together, they painted a picture of a very changed person. Yet if her sister was making meticulous notes and shouldering more responsibilities, why had she left with no warning or explanation?

  That was the question that Sara kept coming back to. And she still had no answers.

  By one o’clock her head was aching. The third time her stomach growled she rummaged through her sister’s refrigerator, pulled out two dry pieces of bread and a can of tuna. She ate her sandwich on the front porch, taking in the drama of a distant thunderstorm boiling over the cliffs to the west. She had to admit that this was one of the most beautiful landscapes she had ever seen, and she stopped eating several times to capture a photo.

  But the uneasiness that had begun when Sara had found the pile of discarded cigarette butts continued to grow. She found herself watching the shadows behind the house and searching the curves of the wash, wondering if she was being watched. As the sun touched the sharp peaks to the west, the uneasiness changed to a sense of menace. She had finished looking through her sister’s papers, letters and bank statements. After that she had scanned Hannah’s phone messages. Most were calls from workers relating to duties at the ranch, and others involved requests for transportation for several of her employer’s elderly friends. One whole page of Hannah’s notebook had been devoted to the names and phone numbers of neighbors that her sister visited on a weekly basis, doing light errands and handyman work, picking up medicine and helping with occasional rides to town.

  Yes, her sister had definitely been busy here in Sedona. She seemed to be part of the community, Sara realized. There was still no indication that she was seeing a man or involved in a distant relationship.

  That left Sara right back where she had started, with no answers.

  The sky was a glorious explosion of red when she noticed something behind a rock at the edge of the wash. As the angle of the sun had changed, she could see a line of color that had not been visible before. Picking up her camera, Sara triggered the powerful zoom lens and focused on a wedge of reds and blues.

  A piece of fabric appeared to be jammed beneath a boulder. One end looked as if it was streaked with mud, but Sara couldn’t make out any other details.

  Carefully she picked her way over the uneven ground until she came to a spot above the wash. From her vantage point the fabric resembled a small, ornately woven blanket. As she leaned down, Sara saw more footprints captured in the soil at the bottom of the wash. Using a stick, she carefully pulled the cloth out from beneath the rock.

  One corner was torn. The other corners were streaked with mud, but the fabric was beautiful, an intricate pattern of stylized birds and mountains. Sara held the old piece in her hands, feeling the last rays of sun on her back, struck by the sense that this was a valuable piece of family history. No one would have dropped it casually.

 
And she realized now why it was so small.

  It was a baby blanket.

  * * *

  The drive down to Sedona in the dusk should have been awe inspiring, but Sara’s mind kept racing through dangerous possibilities.

  The police department was quiet, and the desk sergeant shook his head when she asked for Deputy Jesse McCloud.

  “Not here, ma’am. County sheriff’s office is up in Flagstaff. He’s on duty until seven tonight.”

  Sara smothered a wave of disappointment. “He left me a number, but I lost the card. Would you tell him that I came by? I’ll leave you my cell phone number. I—I’d really like to speak with him. Tonight, if possible.”

  When she walked outside, she saw the bright lights of the Red Rock Café at the top of the hill. Her stomach growled. Sara realized she hadn’t eaten anything since her hurried tuna sandwich at lunch.

  Maybe a slice of pecan pie would make her feel better.

  And maybe someone inside would have more answers.

  * * *

  The same cars were parked in the café’s parking lot. The same faces were ranged along the long oak table. Knitters sat on one side, and poker players sat nearby. All of them chatted across the tables.

  Sara had barely sat down before she had silverware, iced tea and a menu in her hands. The rich, smoky smell of chili hit her, making her mouth water. “I don’t need to look at the menu,” she said with a smile at the owner. “Whatever that delicious smell is, I’ll take your biggest bowl. And another slice of that amazing pie.”

  One of the men stood up, and Sara saw it was the ex-astronaut. A smile creased his tanned face. “Coming right up, ma’am. Nice to see someone who recognizes the finer points of high cuisine.”

  Behind him, somebody muttered at the long table. The astronaut—Charly—ignored him. He was too busy cutting a slab of pie and mounding on freshly whipped cream.

  Sara’s mouth watered. In two minutes she had more food in front of her than she could eat in one evening. Someone was always filling up her coffee cup and bringing more slices of freshly baked bread. The chili was a delight to her tongue—smoky and sweet at the same time, rich with chipotle chilis and what might have been a deeper hint of coffee. Finally Sara pushed away her plate, absolutely sated.

  Even then the café owner—Emmett—tried to refill her bowl, but she put her hand over the rim. “I couldn’t possibly. It was wonderful. Would you consider giving me the recipe?”

  “Done. Anything else I can do for you, ma’am?”

  “Call me Sara, please. Have you seen Deputy McCloud this afternoon?”

  “He was in just before lunch. He was heading north to Flagstaff. Is something wrong?”

  Sara hesitated. She wanted to trust these people, but right now trusting the wrong person might be dangerous. There were still too many questions. “Not really. I just want to ask him a question. He came up to the cabin this morning....”

  Behind her all movement stopped. She heard someone clear his throat.

  “He drove up to Navajo Ridge this morning, did he?” The astronaut frowned at her. “Nothing’s wrong, I hope.”

  “Just a routine visit, from what he said.” Sara decided it was time to change the subject. “That is definitely the best piece of pie I’ve ever had.” She frowned a little. “Actually, my grandmother would tie you for first place, but she doesn’t count. When she was young she was a professional pastry chef in Paris for five years.” It hurt to remember her grandmother’s expert hands and featherlight pastry. It hurt to remember the reason Sara and Hannah had gone to live with their grandparents after the freak accident that had resulted in their parents’ deaths one snowy night in December.

  She glanced up, surprised to see that the big wall clock now read 8:45. Probably Deputy McCloud had gotten caught up in official business. It might be hours before she heard back from him.

  Sara lifted her purse and took out her wallet, turning over the check.

  Five dollars? It had to be a mistake. “I think you forgot to add in the cost of my dinner. This is only the cost of the pie.”

  “No mistake.” Emmett beamed at her as he stacked clean glasses on the counter. “You’re Hannah Winslow’s sister, aren’t you?” Emmett took Sara’s hesitation in answering as a yes. “She’s a friend of Liz Stone. And any friend of Liz Stone’s gets the local rate in this café. Liz loaned me my first hundred dollars when I opened this place twenty years ago.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Friends stick together. That’s the way it is.”

  He hesitated and then scrubbed a corner of the spotless counter with a towel. “We haven’t seen Liz in town for a while. Your sister hasn’t been in, either. Frankly, it’s got us all a little worried.”

  Sara decided there was no more point in lying. She had to trust someone. “I’m worried, too. I haven’t heard from Hannah and she didn’t mention any trouble when we last spoke. Have you heard about any...problems...here?”

  “Only the usual stranded hikers. High school kids getting drunk and blowing off steam. An occasional DUI and a stolen car. That’s the extent of it.”

  None of those things would explain her sister’s absence. Nor would they explain the footprints in the wash and the pile of cigarette butts near the cabin’s driveway.

  “Sorry I can’t help you, Ms. Winslow. But I think you’re in luck. This is the man you should be talking to. Why don’t you ask him?”

  The little doorbell chimed.

  Sara caught the scent of sage mixed with the damp green smell of rain blowing in. She heard boots cross the room. A chair slid out next to hers.

  Spirals of heat worked across her face as Jesse McCloud sat down. The midnight-blue eyes were startling against the deep tan of his face, and he smelled like leather and a spring night.

  He was more handsome than a man had any right to be. When he leaned forward, their knees bumped under the table, and Sara felt the contact zip through her like an electric shock.

  She didn’t want to feel any sparks. She didn’t want to be distracted from finding Hannah.

  Her hand lurched. She dropped her bill and her napkin.

  Jesse picked up both and held them out to her, watching her face. “Ask me about what, Sara?”

  CHAPTER

  FOUR

  Sara cleared her throat. Something funny was happening in her chest. It wasn’t a heart arrhythmia, nothing that you’d find in a medical textbook, but it felt nearly as disorienting.

  She rubbed one hand over the spot that shouldn’t have been hurting. Emotions shimmered, strong and clear in ways that felt totally new.

  She didn’t let emotion clutter up her life. To her way of thinking, attachments were something you added to an e-mail message. Her life was her work—chasing the next new technique for a great photograph or the chance to learn from an expert. Since the death of her grandparents, Hannah had been the lodestone and only personal connection in her life.

  Yet a sharp sensation continued to tug at the center of her chest. Those blue eyes measured her, calm and intense, and Sara realized her cautious position on emotions and attachments was about to change.

  She forced her thoughts back to the reason she had been looking for the deputy and lowered her voice, aware of the silence that had followed Jesse’s question. “I’d like to apologize for not being exactly forthcoming before—it’s hard to know who to trust. My sister didn’t go to Flagstaff, and I don’t think she’s fine. I found some things that could be important.” She ran a hand through her hair, the worry and the sleepless nights beginning to catch up with her. Now her nerves felt raw. She couldn’t stop thinking about her sister, and what kind of dangerous situation she might be caught up in. She looked down at the table and saw that her fingers were trembling.

  The deputy leaned over. His big, so
lid hand settled over hers and squeezed lightly. “It will be okay, Sara. We’ll get this untangled. Trust me.”

  It didn’t make sense, but she did trust him. His husky voice was cool against her ragged nerves. This was a man you could rely on, she thought. This was a man who would watch your back and guard your steps. Not because you’d asked him to, but because it was the right thing to do.

  Friends stick together.

  That’s the way things are.

  Sara remembered Emmett’s words. These weren’t simple platitudes. These people meant what they said.

  Suddenly her life seemed a little safer.

  She reached into her purse and took out a plastic bag containing the cigarette butts she had collected. They were all the same variety, and Sara hoped they could be useful. “I found these outside the cabin. There were a dozen of them under a tree. I think—” Her voice trembled, and she forced down her worry. “I think someone was watching the cabin. I think that person was there for a long time. As you can see, the cigarettes all look like the same type. That’s why I think it was one person, not different ones.” Jesse took the bag. There was no expression on his face as he turned the cigarette butts over slowly, studying them through the plastic. He was wearing a cop’s face now, Sara realized. Giving away nothing.

  “By the driveway, you said?”

  “Under a cottonwood tree. You could see anyone in the cabin, but they couldn’t see you.”

  “What else, Sara?”

  “I was taking a walk. At the bottom of the wash, just below the cabin, the ground was damp. You must have had a rain recently.”

  “About a week ago.”

  Sara nodded. “There were footprints at the edge of some wild grass. When I walked, I saw more. I counted at least twelve people, judging by the shoes. But there were all different kinds of shoes—sneakers and jogging shoes, plus one set of prints from an expensive boot.”

  “How would you recognize all those?”

  When he frowned, Sara explained. “Last year I did a photo layout on shoe prints, and I recognized the expensive one in particular. That design is used only on an imported Italian shoe. Bottega Veneta is the brand.” She shook her head. “Why would someone with that kind of expensive shoes be walking up an isolated wash at Navajo Ridge?”