AWOL with the Operative (10 page)

“That was never my dream. I just kind of drifted into it. See, I was freelancing reviews of metro-area restaurants, and the magazine liked my writing. They needed an assistant editor and offered me the job. The money was good, and what with Mom’s Parkinson’s disease getting worse, that was important. Then when the senior editor left the magazine, and the salary for that position was even more tempting…”

“The dream got lost.”

“Not lost, Sam.
Put on hold.
I’ll get back to it one day. I’m a very good chef. Chicken gumbo and rice is one of my specialties. Rice is a staple in Louisiana. They grow it there, you know.”

He found it interesting that she was sharing all these revelations about herself, even though this was hardly the occasion for them. With his memory still largely untapped, he was able to offer nothing worthwhile about himself in response. All he could do was listen and worry.

Eve was huffing with exertion by now. He should have tried to silence her, but she seemed to need to talk. He humored her, letting her ramble on cheerfully about sweet potato pone.

But that was a mistake. He realized that when, describing something called shrimp remoulade for him, her phrases began to get repeatedly disjointed.

“Shrimp…that’s a Louisiana staple, too…bet you know that already, Sam…everybody knows that…I think they do…but not about the hard-boiled eggs maybe…no, not about the hard-boiled eggs…minced very fine, those eggs should be…”

Yeah, it was a mistake. She was beginning to sound almost delirious. Dazed by hunger and exhaustion. He had to get her out of this miserable weather. But how, where?

From what he could tell in the blinding snow, there was still nothing out there but the forest. No shape of anything resembling a shelter for them.

He’d lost all awareness of how far they had traveled on the frozen stream. It might have been a considerable distance or only a couple of miles. All he knew for certain was that their situation had become dire.

The conditions couldn’t be any worse than what they already were, he thought. Or maybe they could, he realized when they rounded a bend in the stream and found themselves suddenly confronted by a barrier.

“A wall, Sam! Isn’t that strange? What’s a wall doing here in the river?”

It wasn’t a wall, not in the sense that Eve meant. No human hands were responsible for it. It had been constructed by nature out of earth, rock and uprooted trees. A high, solid arm flung across the width of the stream, leaving only a narrow gap on the far right side through which the waters must have flowed before they froze. That gap now was choked by a pile of tumbled chunks of ice, some of them as large as boulders.

Yeah, Sam was able to understand what had happened, but only because the snowfall thinned for a few moments, permitting him to see the enormous wound against the hillside, which rose so steeply and sharply off the left bank of the river that no snow had collected there. A wound still so raw that the upheaval must have occurred as recently as last fall before the land had frozen, leaving the area stripped of all growth.

“It isn’t a wall, Eve,” he corrected her. “It’s the result of a landslide, and we have no choice but to climb over it. Think you can manage?”

“Will there be anything on the other side worth climbing over for, Sam?”

“I hope so, angel. I hope so.”

What else could he tell her, even if he expected them to find nothing on the other side but what they already had on this side? More of the same. But that wasn’t the point. The point was to keep going. He couldn’t permit them to do otherwise. Not as long as there was any chance of survival.

“Then I’ll try,” she promised him.

But her flagging strength matched neither her courage nor her willingness to continue. Even with his assistance, his gloved hand drawing her up over the tightly packed rocks and trees, catching her when she started to stagger and fall, she was unable to tackle it. She collapsed before they reached the top of the landslide that blocked their way, sinking to her knees with a mirthless little laugh.

“I can’t, Sam. I’m sorry, but I just can’t. You go on. There’s no sense in both of us dying out here.”

“Nobody is dying,” he said fiercely. “Got that?”

“Yes, but—”

“No more talking. That’s an official order.”

According to her, he was an FBI agent, so the command he’d just issued seemed appropriate. To his relief, she voiced no further objection, not even when he crouched down beside her, gathered her up in his arms and rose to his feet.

What with the bulky parka she wore and the cumbersome bag over her shoulder, not to mention her thick boots, he expected her weight to be a challenge for him. But somehow, even though he had to climb with her to the crest of the landslide, she didn’t seem like a burden. Maybe just because he liked the way she felt in his arms, her face nestled against his chest, her arms wrapped around his neck.

Still, he was thankful when he reached the summit, where he stopped to fill his lungs with air. The curtain of snow that had eased long enough to reveal the origin of the landslide had lifted altogether. From this height, he had a clear view of what lay below them on the other side of the barrier. And it was not more of the same.

Only yards away from the foot of the landslide, the river widened, spreading out into a frozen lake rimmed by forest. To Sam’s further amazement, he could make out a small clearing off the shore less than a mile away. Not a vacant clearing either. There was a log cabin there beneath a canopy of pines.

A miracle? Or the mirage Eve had talked about earlier? It was hard to tell through the haze of flakes that were falling again. If he had to choose, though—and he did—he was going to believe in the reality of that cabin.

“Can you see it, Eve? There’s a cabin out there on the lake! The shelter we’ve been praying for!”

Her only reply was a long sigh. If this was all she was capable of, then it was imperative that they reach that cabin as quickly as possible.

Carrying his precious cargo, and with no further hesitation, Sam picked his way carefully down the rough, treacherous slope. The going should have been easier when he reached the bottom and was able to strike out across the level ice. It wasn’t.

The wind on the river had been bad enough, but out here on the open lake it was ferocious, made worse by the snow that had descended in force again, stinging their faces like needles of ice. A snow that obscured all sight of the cabin in the clearing.

He couldn’t afford to make any mistake and miss that clearing, which was why he hugged the shoreline, even if a direct route across the lake would have been faster. Nor was he willing to trust the ice over deeper waters where the crust might not be thick enough to support them.

“Sam?”

Another blessing. Hearing her voice meant she was still with him. “What is it?”

“Can I talk now?”

Her request had him chuckling. “Yes, you can talk now.”

“Then what I want to say is, you should put me down. I can walk again. I’m rested, and I must be too heavy for you to go on carrying me like this.”

“Just stay where you are.”

That she didn’t argue with him about it meant she hadn’t recovered her strength. Besides, crazy though it might be under the circumstances, he continued to enjoy the sensation of her in his arms, the way she felt all soft and compliant and trusting against him.

He even liked the sound of her voice when she started to babble again.

“I really am a good cook, Sam…I’ll show you what a good cook I am…if I can get my hands on a stove and some ingredients…do you suppose there will be food in the cabin, Sam?…I hope there will be food of some kind…”

“Me, too, angel. Me, too.”

Not until they reached the edge of the clearing did Sam notice there was a small building down on the shore. Probably a boatshed of some kind. He spared it no more than a quick glance. He was interested in nothing but the log cabin itself situated above them under the tall pines.

The slope was an easy one to ascend, permitting him to examine the structure as he headed toward it, Eve still in his arms. Its windows were shuttered, meaning it couldn’t be occupied. He figured it must be an isolated fishing cabin used only in the warmer months. There was certainly no sign of anyone here now.

Steps mounted to a covered porch stretched across the face of the cabin. There was a generous supply of firewood stacked against the wall and a bench beside the front door. Only when he lowered Eve, placing her gently on the bench, did Sam realize his arms ached from having borne her up that ridge and around the lake, all the while battling his way through the glacial wind.

Didn’t matter. All that counted was getting them inside and getting a fire going. The wood here was evidence that a fire was possible. They both needed the warmth of a healthy blaze, Eve in particular. She was silent now, having talked herself out long before they reached the clearing. Not a good sign.

“I’m going to leave you here, but only long enough to find a way to get us inside. Okay?”

She nodded, sagging against the log wall behind her. He hated leaving her, even for a few essential minutes, but at least she was out of the wind.

The front door, a solid barrier, was locked when he tried it. He might have known that entry wouldn’t be easy. No choice but to find another way in.

Leaving the shelter of the porch, he worked his way around the side of the cabin, folding back the hinged shutters as he went. The windows, too, were all securely fastened from the inside. Not that he wouldn’t hesitate to break a pane to get at one of those locks, but only if it proved necessary.

He had much better luck at the rear of the cabin. There was another, smaller porch here, and when he tried the back door it rattled in its frame. All it needed to force it was his shoulder thrust hard and repeatedly against its planks. With one final, mighty shove the door burst open.

Hallelujah, he was inside!

Although his effort had damaged the lock and the latch, the door itself was still intact, enabling him to close it behind him and keep it shut by propping a chair under its knob.

He was in a small kitchen. Off to one side were open shelves. As poor as the light was, he could make out some glass jars that looked like they contained a variety of dried foodstuffs. Things like rice and beans. Thank God they wouldn’t starve.

He wasted no time in inspecting either the layout of the cabin or its furnishings, noting only there was a stone fireplace as he strode rapidly through the dim interior to the front door, which he unlocked and opened.

Eve hadn’t moved from the bench. Her eyes were closed now, which was all he needed to tell him how urgent it was that he get her inside and warm. Scooping her up into his arms, he carried her into the cabin, kicking the door shut behind them.

There was an easy chair in a corner of the living room. She stirred when Sam placed her on it, then was still again. Turning away, he crossed to the fireplace. A large basket loaded with wood sat at the side of the hearth. He wouldn’t have to use its contents until later on, since a fire had already been laid in the grate, requiring nothing but a match. There was a box of matches on the mantel.

He hesitated. A fire meant smoke streaming from the chimney. Smoke that could be spotted by the enemy. But not in this weather, when the snowfall outside was heavy enough to obscure it, when the afternoon was already beginning to darken. Nor was that chopper likely to be in the air in these conditions. For Eve’s sake, he persuaded himself to risk it.

Box in hand, he hunkered down on the hearth, opened the damper, lit one of the long matches and touched its flame to the kindling under the split logs. Only when he was satisfied that he had a good fire under way did Sam turn his attention again to Eve.

He realized it would take some time for even a strong blaze to warm the room. He had to get her close to the fireplace, preferably stretched out on the floor so she would get the full benefit of its heat. But first—

Getting to his feet, Sam did a rapid survey of their surroundings. The cabin was small. Weak though the light was, he didn’t need a tour of it to understand its simple arrangement. Living room here, the kitchen behind it and a couple of bedrooms off to the side, all of them plainly furnished.

It was the bedrooms he wanted. There were two sets of bunk beds in one of them and a pair of twin beds in the other, all of them stripped down to their mattresses. Helping himself to one of those mattresses, he dragged it into the living room where he placed it near the hearth. Eve’s eyes remained closed when he laid her on the mattress. She seemed to be breathing normally, however. He felt he could leave her again for another few minutes.

Water. They would both need water. And food. But that would have to wait.

He went into the kitchen where there was a stove for cooking and kerosene lamps ranged along a counter. No electricity, naturally, and no running water, either. The sink was a dry one, the only source of water a hand pump out in the yard. He’d noticed it earlier when he’d rounded the back of the cabin. But it wouldn’t be active at this time of the year.

They would have to depend on melted snow.

Finding a clean, plastic bucket in one of the cupboards under the counter, he went outside and packed it with snow. He could make out a tiny structure a short distance away under the trees. He figured it was a privy. Without a bathroom in the cabin, they would have to depend on that, too.