Love's Miracles (3 page)

Margo
checked into the inn only to find a disappointing message from Vinnie Zanelli.
Emergency
in Portland. Keys to Bronco and map enclosed. Supplies for Zane in back. Go on
up. Will meet you back here Sunday morning.

Margo
glanced from the note to the clerk. “Do you know anything about this? Did Mr.
Zanelli explain?”

“He
checked in yesterday afternoon and then chartered a plan after he’d been here
an hour. Said to give you this note.”

Margo
thanked the clerk and went to her room to unpack and change. After putting on
the purple jeans and pink sweater, she sat down on the bed.

She
should wait until Vinnie returned, but the idea of wasting a whole day bothered
her. Already, in only one hour, she was edgy and restless, picturing the piles
of folders on her desk that she should have brought with her.

Why
waste this time? She could do as Vinnie suggested and drive out there. She
could introduce herself, get acquainted. Besides, Zane was expecting them
today. He might worry if no one showed up. Furthermore, she might get a better
reaction alone. She’d definitely have more freedom to confront the man without
his brother causing inhibited responses.

Margo
walked downstairs to eat lunch. It might be a while before she returned for
dinner. She entered the restaurant, sat down, and looked at the selection of
“oldies but goodies” music in the jukebox on her table. One of her favorite
songs, “Forever Friends,” began to play from another table and she hummed along
while she waited for her order.

There
were several people in the restaurant. With their long hair and casual attire,
she guessed them to be locals. Margo felt as if she’d stepped back in time to
the early seventies. She’d noticed the feeling earlier while driving north
through the small resort towns in the redwoods. It was as if the Pacific
Northwest had locked into that time frame and stayed. Maybe Zane had come here
to do that – step back in time.

After
she finished her salmon omelet, she found the clerk at the desk. “Can you tell
me how to find this road?” she asked, pointing to the map Vinnie had drawn for
her.

The
clerk was close to Margo’s thirty-five years, but, unlike Margo, she was
slightly overweight. Dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt that had seen better
days, no makeup and straight hair, she looked as if she spent a great deal of
time outdoors.

Margo
didn’t fail to notice that the woman had, in a few seconds, inspected every
piece of Margo’s clothing, eyeing her with the curiosity of a gossip.

For
a brief moment Margo wondered what it was like living here. Would she look so
casual and earthy living on the retreat she wanted to develop? She’d miss the
opera, the restaurants, and the hum of the city here, no doubt.

The
clerk looked up with sudden concern in her eyes. “This is the Zanelli place,
isn’t it?”

“That’s
right. I need directions to the turnoff for their property.”

Disbelief
registered in her face. “You’re going there?”

“I
plan to drive out this afternoon. I can make it to the place and back, can’t
I?” At least she knew that mountain roads, especially unpaved tracks, could be
slow. But she’d hoped it could be done in an afternoon.

The
young woman leaned over to peer around Margo and out the door where the Bronco
was parked. “You alone?”

“Yes.”
Margo shifted, impatient now with the delay. If the road was bad she needed to
get started. “Can you give me some directions, like any landmarks to look for
so I’ll be sure and turn on the right road?”

“I
wouldn’t go. We used to go to the beach on that property. But no more.”

“Why?
Is something wrong?” Margo studied the apprehensive look in the woman’s eye.

“There’s
a man lives there. They say he’s a Zanelli, but I don’t know how he could be
one of them.”

Margo
didn’t say anything, but quirked her brow as she waited for the rest of the
information she knew was coming.

“The
Zanellis are rich. Live in Frisco. But that dude out there’s strange.”

“What
do you mean?”

“He
came into town once. He acted real weird.”

“You
mean he ties one on? Parties?”

“I
wish that was all it was.” The clerk shook her head and pointed to the
restaurant Margo had just eaten in. “He was in there having a hamburger. Then
all of a sudden he jumps up, grabs a chair, and smashes it over the jukebox.
Luckily my boys were here. They scared him off.”

“Did
you press charges?”

“Naw.
He paid for the damage. It only broke the chair.”

“Was
he drunk? On drugs?” Many of the vets she treated had bouts of violence and
often they were induced by an overdose of alcohol or drugs.

“He
was straight as I am now.” The woman held up her hand as if swearing to the
truth. “That’s what makes it so creepy. The look in his eyes was enough to send
you to your grave.”

“Did
he hurt anyone?”

“No.
Thank goodness. There weren’t any other customers.”

“Does
he do this often?” This was something Vinnie hadn’t mentioned when he’d
discussed his brother. According to Vinnie, Zane was disturbed but peaceful.

“Just
the one time he came to town.”

Margo
stuffed the map into her purse and frowned. “You mean he’s only come to Fort
Bragg once? Maybe he’s gone to other restaurants.”

“Everybody
knows who he is,” she insisted. “We’re a small town and we watch out for each
other. We don’t want no crazies around here.”

Margo
could understand, but this news left her in a quandary. Maybe she shouldn’t go
see Zane alone. Then again, this woman could be exaggerating. Stories of
unusual events, especially if they involved strangers, were always blown out of
proportion. Maybe they weren’t referring to the same person. Quickly Margo
rummaged through her purse and found the photos Vinnie had given her.

“Is
this the man you’re talking about?”

The
woman studied the photos for a minute and handed them back. “That’s him all
right.”

She
shifted to glance around the room before leaning close to Margo. “That’s
another thing about him. He seems all right – good looking in fact. But I sense
he’s dangerous. You watch out for him.”

Perhaps
she should wait until tomorrow to go. On the other hand, Vinnie surely wouldn’t
have suggested she go alone if he thought there’d be a problem.

Margo
discarded the notion. The woman was enjoying the tale far too much. Excitement
glittered in her eyes. Small communities often found a need for someone to
project their forbidden impulses onto. An outsider, a man to be feared, yet
needed. She thought of the book by Faulkner she’d just read and smiled.
Exaggeration. That’s all it was.

“I
have to go out there. I have a load of supplies that need to be delivered.”

The
clerk shook her head. “You’re making a mistake, lady.”

“Look.
When I come back this afternoon, I’ll check in with you. If you don’t hear from
me by nightfall, you call the sheriff.”

“Sure
will.”

Margo
thanked her and headed outside. She unlocked the Bronco and climbed behind the
wheel. About to stuff the photos inside her purse, Margo paused instead to take
another look. The first picture showed Vinnie looking at his brother,
admiration on his face. His brother, tall and dark-haired, was staring directly
at the camera. Margo could almost feel the laughter coming from those blue
eyes. The woman at the inn was right about one thing. He was good looking.

She
slid the second photo from under the first. Vinnie’s brother stared at her
again and the difference was shocking. There was still that charm, but it was
coupled with an air of danger. Dressed in Marine Corps fatigues, he slouched
against the nose of the helicopter. His eyes looked haunted and there were
lines etched in the tanned skin. War did that to a man. Hadn’t her father…?

Margo
closed her mind to the memory and quickly shoved the photos into her bag. She
didn’t want to think of her father and she didn’t want to think of any problems
in meeting Zane. It would all work out.

The
engine roared to life as Margo set the gears and headed north.

The
high heels of Margo’s boots echoed as she walked across the uneven planks of
the porch. She knocked.

Nothing
happened.

She
listened for sounds within the rustic A-frame cabin.

“Anybody
home?”

No
answer.

Where
was Zanelli? Vinnie had assured her that he’d told his brother they were
coming. She turned and scanned the edge of the woods. An eerie silence settled
around her. Odd shapes took form in the dark shadows of the redwood forest.
Margo shook off the uneasiness and tamped her growing irritation. She wasn’t
going to be able to interview Zane if she couldn’t find him.

Suddenly,
a shrill cry cut through the stillness. Margo stiffened. The cry echoed again
and chills raced down her spine. It sounded like an animal in pain. She’d never
heard the sound before but sensed it with bloodcurdling certainty. It came from
the rear of the cabin.

Margo
tore down the porch steps and rounded the corner of the building. As she neared
the back of the cabin, she noticed there were several other buildings. One
looked like a barn and the other two apparently were sheds. She ran around the
last corner and heard a scuffling noise. When a large bulk loomed in front of
her, she skidded to a stop and froze.

She
stared, wide-eyed and alert.

A
tall man stood looking at her. Blood dripped from the knife he held poised over
the fawn in his arms. There was dried blood on his beard, his sleeveless
T-shirt, and tattered jeans.

Was
it Zane?

She
knew the tales of war – how men had become crazed killers. She’d brought many
veterans through their nightmares with therapy, but she’d never witnessed the
act. Was Vinnie really aware of what was going on up here? Her stomach
clenched. She braced herself for fight or flight.

His
lips moved, but she couldn’t hear his words. The fawn struggled and the man’s
muscles flexed to still the movement. Then she heard words, quiet but urgent.

“Get
over here quick. She’s hurt.”

It
took seconds for Margo’s body to function. Warily, she walked toward the man.
His arms tightened around the struggling deer. The blood that squirted on Margo
brought her to her senses. “How can I help?” she asked as her control slipped
in place.

“There’s
nylon thread cutting into her leg.” His voice was calm and direct. His glance
was assessing, yet slightly hostile. Did he realize what she’d been thinking?
“Can you cut it loose while I hold her still?”

Margo
saw where nylon fishing line had tangled around the limb. Quickly she grabbed
the knife held out to her. He knelt on the grass. She followed. Her fingers
touched the warm flesh of the injured animal and Margo geared into action.

“Hold
her now while I get the point under this knot,” she ordered. “Steady.” She
carefully cut the tangled mess. It broke free. “I think I’ve got it,” she told
him.

“Feel
along her leg. There could be more.”

She
burrowed her fingers into the soft skin. The fawn jerked. The man tightened his
hold.

“I
found another. It’s caught up higher.” She looked into his eyes and saw not
only concern, but also control. Injured limbs and blood were obviously not new
to him. “Let me see if I can get my fingers under it before I use the knife.
That way I won’t cut her again.”

“She’s
not cut from the knife. The line blocked off her circulation. She was trying to
chew it off.”

That
explained the ragged edges of the injury. Margo’s heart contracted. She hated
to see any living creature suffer. “How did it happen?”

“No
doubt some fisherman left this in the stream.” Disgust edged his tone. The deer
moved and he changed his voice to a soothing murmur that even Margo responded
to. “The fawn probably went for a drink and got tangled in it. She must’ve fled
or tried to free herself. The movement tied the knots tighter.”

“Poor
thing,” Margo crooned as she cut the last thread. The deer seemed to sigh in
relief.

“Do
you think you can keep her here while I get some medical supplies?” he asked,
his voice rougher now.

Margo
held out her arms. “Give her to me.”

The
warm bundle looked soft, but the animal had powerful muscles underneath. For a
minute, she wasn’t sure she could hold her. She sat down on the ground and
braced her legs forward. Thank goodness she was tall. The fawn fit into the
cradle she formed with her lap and she was able to still its struggle. Zane –
she assumed it was Zane – stood looking at her for a moment before he hurried
toward the house.

Margo
took advantage of his absence to lower her head and take deep breaths. It had
all happened so fast. Her head was spinning from the sight of the deer’s blood,
its cries of panic, and the thoughts of the animal’s pain.