Honor

by Janet Dailey

  “What’s the matter?” Linc asked.

  She ventured a smile. “Are they dead?”

  “Far as I know.” He laughed. “Sorry. I should have asked. Not everybody likes raw oysters.”

  “I just think they look better cooked,” she assured him. “With bread crumbs. A lot of bread crumbs.”

  “Not a problem. What the lady wants, the lady gets. And I can easily eat those by myself.” He was about to summon the waiter when she put a hand on his arm.

  “Really, it’s okay. I’ll look at the menu while you eat the oysters.” She studied hers carefully. It seemed to be classic American cuisine—she chose roast chicken and Linc ordered fish.

  “Well,” she said, putting her napkin over her lap. “The Greenwood lives up to its reputation. See anyone you recognize?”

  He glanced into the main dining room. “I do. Wish I could table-hop and make a few powerful friends. We could use some on this case.”

  “But you’re not wearing the magic suit,” she teased him.

  “Nope. Guess we’ll have to come back.”

  Kenzie moved her knife a sixteenth of an inch to the left, closer to the spoon. “Is this dinner part of a plan to distract me?”

  “Kenzie—”

  “It’s working. I can’t think about—that man—all the time. So thanks.” She swallowed the word stalker, not wanting to say it.

  “We may have something more to go on there. Mike Warren keeps the brakes on, though. He’s a slow and steady kind of guy.”

  Kenzie looked up at him. “So is Harry—the police sketch artist,” she clarified, when Linc drew a blank on the name for a second. “We’re making progress.”

  They set the discussion of the case aside when the salad course arrived. It was a lot easier to talk about the merits of blue cheese dressing—hers—versus herb vinaigrette—his.

  Both entrees proved to be excellent.

  She had more of the wine than he did, because he was doing the driving. In fact, she was pleasantly tipsy by the time the bill arrived, presented and taken away as quietly as everything else.

  Kenzie rose when Linc had signed the final slip of paper. Her face was glowing from the fire and the sparkling wine—she could feel it.

  “Thank you,” she said simply.

  “My pleasure.”

  He escorted her to the outer room, and stopped off on the way. Kenzie made a beeline for a comfortable-looking armchair and plopped down to wait.

  A glossy folded card on the small table beside it caught her eye. Idly, Kenzie opened it.

  A photo of a lavish four-poster bed made her sigh. Below it, discreet small print advertised the room rates. The Greenwood really was an inn.

  What an incredible bed. The canopy was trimmed with hand-knotted lace and the coverlet looked soft as a cloud, with a deep ruffle that brushed the carpeting.

  It was easy to imagine herself in a bed like that. With Linc.

  Kenzie thought back to the time she’d put a blanket over him, sleeping as best he could on her couch. When he’d lugged the new mattress upstairs to her room at Hamill’s, she’d almost given in to temptation.

  It would be heaven to spend the night with him here.

  She heard him coming and hastily closed the card and put it back.

  Linc walked over to her. Kenzie got up a little unsteadily and allowed him to take her elbow. The night air was cold and refreshing when they went out the front door, stirred by a brisk wind that rattled the branches.

  They walked the few steps to his car and Kenzie rested a hand on it, glancing up at the midnight sky and then at him.

  “I don’t want to go just yet,” she whispered.

  He turned her around to face him, holding her close. The dark gleam in his eyes held a tantalizing promise. “All right. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

  The vibration of his deep voice made her more giddy than the wine. Without hesitation, Kenzie slipped her arms around his waist and lifted her lips to his.

  Linc didn’t wait to kiss her hard and deeply, his hands running over her pliant body as if she wore no clothes at all.

  The wind whirled around them. The carriage lamps swayed on their mountings, casting flickering light that didn’t reach them in the shadows.

  She wanted to stay in his arms forever. It was the only place where she felt truly safe.

  The storm came and it stayed. By the second day, Kenzie was convinced it would never stop raining. The remembered sensation of Linc’s kisses warmed her for a while, but frustration got in the way eventually.

  She wanted him. The desire was mutual—and intense. But there was just too damn much going on for that to be anything more than a highly sensual fantasy.

  She helped out in the shop at the shooting range, but there weren’t very many customers. Norm told her she might as well skedaddle back upstairs. She was happy when Mrs. Corelli called to chat and even happier when the older woman accepted her offer to be with Christine for the rest of the day.

  The other alternative was returning Harry Cowles’s call, which she wasn’t ready to do. None of his sketches so far resembled the man she’d seen. She was frustrated by her inability to remember him—and angry at herself.

  Christine still didn’t know about the stalker. Kenzie’s instincts told her that he was concentrating on her at the moment. Maybe she was more fun to hunt. He didn’t seem to be as interested in wounded prey.

  Kenzie could defend herself. And she intended to protect Christine.

  She shook the thoughts away.

  Christine would be glad to see her. Kenzie got ready to go and made a mad dash to her car.

  Peach was curled up on Christine’s pillow, the picture of contentment.

  “Ginny stopped by at the end of her rounds,” Christine explained. “She had errands to run, and she didn’t want to take Peach in the rain.”

  The dog gave a sleepy sigh.

  “Tough life, Peach Pie.” Kenzie laughed.

  “I like having extra time with her.” Christine stroked her ears. “She’s one popular dog.”

  They chatted for a little while about nothing in particular; then Christine asked an unexpected question. “Don’t you miss the dogs at the kennels?”

  “Ah—yes,” she replied. “But I know they’re going away. So I try not to get too attached.”

  “Oh.”

  Kenzie wondered something. “Would you like to visit the kennels with me? We could, you know. Any time.”

  Christine shook her head. Her face was turned slightly away from Kenzie, who couldn’t read her expression.

  “Is something the matter?” Kenzie asked gently.

  “I’m not sure I’m ready to go anywhere just yet.”

  “Didn’t your mom and dad take you out?” Mrs. Corelli had mentioned something about it.

  “We went for a drive. And I—I just got so scared.”

  Kenzie came over to sit on the bed by Christine.

  “You don’t have to tell me why if you don’t want to.”

  Christine hesitated. “I don’t even know what road it was. We didn’t go far from here, though, I’m sure of that.”

  Then they hadn’t been anywhere near the site of the accident. That made sense. Kenzie couldn’t imagine the Corellis taking her there.

  “I was up front and my mom was in the back. My dad was driving.”

  “Was there a lot of traffic or honking?”

  She’d noticed Christine’s sensitivity to loud noise and how much she disliked feeling crowded. Chalk both up to brain trauma.

  “No. The road was clear and it was sunny. But the signs went by so fast. I got disoriented.”

  “Was that your first time outside the center?”

  “No,” Christine said, then amended her answer. “I mean, yes, if you mean in a car. I went walking with my parents and the physical therapist lots of times. Just not with you.”

  Kenzie nodded. “Go on.”

  “I couldn’t help thinking that something bad
was going to happen.”

  Agitated, Christine shifted position, twisting her hands in her lap.

  Peach picked up on it. She raised her head and then got all the way up off the pillow, moving to Christine’s side and settling down again.

  Absently, Christine began to pat the dog’s rounded side, and her agitation seemed to lessen.

  Peach Pie was pure, warm comfort. Better than anything Kenzie could think of to say.

  “I asked them if we could go back, but I didn’t say why. We weren’t out for very long. When I got back here, I felt okay again.”

  “Your mom and dad didn’t know how you’d react,” Kenzie began.

  “Sometimes I wonder if they’re sick of taking care of me,” she blurted out. “Or if you are.”

  “Christine, you know that’s not true.”

  Kenzie was concerned, but that was beside the point. The important thing was that Christine had to be able to say what was on her mind.

  She patted the dog, lost in thought.

  “I’m sorry,” Christine replied after a while. “Maybe it’s just that I don’t like having other people take care of me.”

  Kenzie smiled. “Me neither. I totally understand why that would bother you.”

  “And I wish that I could do something besides walk around the center and back to my room. And I want my words to connect with what I think. They don’t always. I get so mad when I make mistakes.”

  “Patience is beautiful.”

  “Stuff it,” Christine said with spirit. “I’m tired of being patient too.”

  Kenzie had to laugh. “Sounds to me like you’re getting better, even if it doesn’t feel like it sometimes.”

  “Am I? Do you think I’ll ever be able to go back to work?”

  Another unexpected question. “Of course you will.”

  “You know something? I miss it. I never thought I’d say that in a million years. Not about SKC.”

  “Oh. Um, they are keeping your job open,” Kenzie said tentatively. There was no way she was going to explain about the defective SKC vests anytime soon.

  “They’d better. The outdoor company must have hired someone else by now.”

  So Christine remembered that detail. Good sign.

  “They probably did,” Kenzie said. “Let’s talk about something else.”

  Christine looked out the window at the rain. “What? Like how cranky I am?”

  “No. Don’t be silly.”

  “Well, books then. Except I can’t read for longer than five minutes. There’s always movies. Seen any good ones?”

  “I stopped on the way and got a couple of comedies.”

  Christine made a funny face. “Are you trying to distract me?”

  The dog at her side woke up and stretched, then yawned.

  “Yes, I am.” Kenzie turned when she saw Christine look toward the door.

  Ginny had come back. Peach jumped down to the floor and trotted over to her mistress.

  “Hi, you two,” Ginny said. “Did Peach behave herself?”

  “She lived up to her name,” Christine said affectionately. The dog wagged her tail in agreement. “Yes, I’m talking about you.”

  “Glad to hear it. Take care, Kenzie. And you too, Christine—thanks so much for watching her.”

  The three exchanged good-byes and the handler left with her dog. Kenzie took the two DVDs out of her purse and handed them to Christine.

  “You pick. I don’t care which one.”

  Christine looked absently at both. Then she made her choice and took out a DVD from the case, getting her laptop from the bedside table.

  She opened it and stopped.

  “Kenzie,” she said, “I just remembered—there was an SKC laptop at my apartment. Did they ever ask for it back?”

  Reported stolen. Kenzie didn’t say the words. She wasn’t inclined to do SKC any favors, for that reason and a few others she wasn’t going to tell Christine.

  “I think so.”

  “Maybe I should ask my mom,” Christine said. “She told me you went and got mine before it broke down.”

  White lie of the week.

  Christine slid the DVD into her new laptop.

  “I’ll ask her,” Kenzie said quickly. “If it’s there, I’ll find it.”

  “That would be great. There’s a lot of stuff on it that I was working on, but I’m not sure exactly what. If I do go back, I’d like to be caught up.” She frowned. “If that’s even possible. My boss Melvin is a forward-march type. Did you ever meet him, Kenzie?”

  “No.” That was absolutely true.

  “I don’t feel like giving it back to him,” Christine confessed. “Sorry. I ask you to do so many things for me.”

  Kenzie waved that away. “What color is it?”

  “Black. It’s chunky. Not like this one. I think I left it in the hutch.”

  “I’ll look there. Did I tell you that your mom tidied up your place?”

  Christine groaned. “I’ll never be able to find anything ever again.”

  “Do you want to go back?” Kenzie was risking a lot by asking the question, but Christine might think it was strange if she didn’t.

  Christine stopped looking at the movie menu. “Not yet. Not for a while. It’s like—” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “I was someone else when I lived there, put it that way. It seems like a very long time ago.”

  Good enough. Kenzie would have been hard put to come up with a reason for Christine not to go back to her own apartment.

  She called Linc once she was ensconced in her rooms above Hamill’s. He was out somewhere. Sounded like a bar full of loud guys.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Watching sports on TV, playing foosball, and having a beer,” he said cheerfully. “What’s up?”

  “Just wanted to ask you something.”

  “Okay.” The background noise diminished. “I’m someplace quieter. Go ahead.”

  She heard a tremendous crash and then his yelp. “Dropped tray,” he muttered. “No major damage—to me, anyway.”

  Kenzie rolled her eyes. “Do you want me to call you back?”

  “No. You said you were going to ask me something. I want you to ask me something.”

  Maybe he’d had more than one beer. He sounded a little too cheerful all of a sudden.

  “I spent the afternoon with Christine,” she said.

  “How is she?”

  “Doing okay. She asked me about the SKC laptop.”

  “Oh?” He sounded more serious.

  “She just remembered that it was in her apartment. She wants it.”

  “What for?” Linc was totally serious now.

  “I think she has some vague notion about getting caught up with whatever she was working on at SKC. Just in case she goes back or something like that.”

  “It is hers. Or theirs. Not mine, anyway.”

  Kenzie knew he’d copied what he might need from it. “I think you should just keep it for now. She’s apt to forget that she asked for it—she still does do that.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes. I think so.” She paused for a moment. “You didn’t ever find anything on it that would scare her, right?”

  “No. It all seemed fairly routine. I hate to admit that most of it confused me, but that may be because some of it was in code.”

  “I think I’m following you.”

  She heard a faint sound like a heavy door swinging and realized he’d gone outside.

  “Hear that?” he asked.

  Kenzie was silent. “No.”

  “It’s a cricket. The rain’s stopped. It’s chirping up a storm.”

  “Don’t say that word. I don’t believe you anyway. It’s under a little umbrella.”

  Linc laughed. “No, it isn’t, and neither am I. I can see a couple of stars too—right there, where the clouds are opening up. One for you and one for me.”

  “That’s nice.” Kenzie hoped her smile was in her answer. She missed
him.

  “Okay, nature girl,” he said. “I had another idea for something to do. Want to see where the river gets wild? Great Falls is amazing after a storm. We could go tomorrow.”

  She wanted to see him right now. But she heard one of his buddies come out and start joking around. Another joined them.

  “Sure,” she said. “Text me a time. I’ll be ready.”

  Kenzie leaned against the flat side of an enormous boulder, using it to brace herself as she watched the river below her, at near-flood level after two days of ceaseless rain. It raced and smashed over rocks that were barely visible in the dark water and white foam. The wind whistled through the gorge, the last reminder of the storm front that had stalled and finally blown through.

  Linc was somewhere behind her. He’d stopped to help a group of hikers find their bearings on a map they’d unfolded. She’d gone ahead, a little annoyed by their endless questions.

  The storm-swollen river captivated her. Jagged rocks, dangerously slick, crowded closer together at the falls. The river boiled over, a white torrent. The churning water below became a trap that no one could escape.

  The warning signs made the danger very clear, but there were those who didn’t take them seriously.

  Kenzie kept a safe distance. But she still enjoyed the beautiful display of nature’s power.

  By chance—she hadn’t heard them—she turned to see an elderly couple. They were dressed alike in khaki, both with binoculars around their necks. Slowly but surely they made their way up the path behind the rock, and paused to talk to her.

  “Isn’t it amazing?” the woman asked.

  “That’s the right word. Yes.”

  “Hope we didn’t startle you,” the man said.

  “No, not at all. I saw you before I heard you.”

  “Well, I guess you found a safe perch.” He smiled at her.

  She indicated their binoculars. “How’s the birdwatching?”

  “Oh, we saw a few,” the woman replied. “Nothing unusual. Our friend the heron must be hiding from the storm. Perhaps he hasn’t woken up yet.”

  Our friend the heron. They were so sweet.

  “Maybe so.” Kenzie laughed. “Best of luck. I think we’re seeing the last of the storm.”