River's End (28 page)

“Really?” Celia drew out the word, giving it several syllables, and grinned like a contented cat. “Isn’t that nice?”

“I don’t know how nice it is or why you’d be so pleased about it. You haven’t seen her since she was a kid.”

“I’ve read her letters to your father. She appears to me a smart, sensible young woman, which is a far cry from your usual choice, particularly that creature Caryn. She still hasn’t turned up, by the way.”

“Fine. Let her stay in whatever hole she dug for herself.”

“I suppose I have to agree. And to backtrack, I like hearing you say you’re interested in someone. You never tell me you’re interested in a woman. Just that you’re seeing one.”

“I’ve been interested in Liv for years.”

“Really? How? She was, what, twelve, when you last saw her.”

“Eighteen. I went up to see her six years ago, when she was in college.”

Surprised, Celia stopped opening mail. “You went to see her? You never mentioned it.”

“No, mostly because I wasn’t too happy with the way it worked out.” He blew out a breath. “Okay, condensed version. I wanted to write the book, even then. I went to see her to talk her
into cooperating. Then I saw her, and . . . Man, it just blasted through me. I couldn’t think, with all the stuff going on inside me just looking at her, I didn’t think.”

“Noah.” Celia closed a hand over his. “I had no idea you’d ever felt that way, with anyone.”

“I’ve felt that way with her, and I ruined it. When she found out why I was there, it hurt her. She wouldn’t listen to apologies or explanations. She just closed the door.”

“Has she opened it again?”

“I think she’s pulled back a couple of the locks.”

“You weren’t honest with her before, and it ended badly. That should tell you something.”

“It does. But first I have to wear her down.” Because he felt better having just said it all out loud, he smiled. “She’s a hell of a lot tougher than she was at eighteen.”

“You’ll think more of her if she makes you work.” She patted his hand, then went back to the mail. “I know you, Noah. When you want something, you go after it. Maybe not all at once, but you keep at it until you have it.”

“Well, it feels like I’ve been going after Olivia MacBride most of my life. Meanwhile . . . Mom? What is it?” She’d gone deadly pale, had him leaping up fearing a heart attack.

“Noah. Oh God.” She gripped the hand he’d pressed to her face. “Look. Look.”

He pulled the paper out of her hand, ignoring it while he struggled to keep them both calm. “Take it easy. Just sit still. Catch your breath. I’ll call the doctor.”

“No, for God’s sake, look!” She took his wrist, yanked the paper he held back down.

He saw it then. The photocopy was fuzzy, poorly reproduced, but he recognized the work of the police photographer documenting the body of Julie MacBride at the scene of the murder.

He had a copy of the picture in his own files, and though he’d looked at it countless times, the stark black and white was freshly appalling.

No, not a photocopy, he realized. Computer-scanned, just as the bold letters beneath the picture were computer-generated.

IT CAN HAPPEN AGAIN.

IT CAN HAPPEN TO YOU.

Rage, cold and controlled, coated him as he looked into his mother’s horrified, baffled eyes. “He flicked the wrong switch this time,” Noah murmured.

He waited until his father came racing home. But no amount of arguing or pleading could make him wait until the police arrived.

The son of a bitch had played him all right and had nearly sucked him in. Now he’d threatened his family. Revenge, Noah supposed as he slammed out of his car and strode down Sunset. Revenge against the cop who’d helped lock him away. Go after the family. Lure the son in, dangle the story, take the money, then terrorize the wife.

Noah pushed through the front entrance of the apartment unit, flicked a glance at the elevator and chose the stairs. The mighty had fallen here, he thought. The paint was peeling, the treads grimy, and he caught the sweet whiff of pot still clinging to the air.

But he hadn’t fallen far enough.

The bastard liked women as his victims. Noah pounded a fist on the door of the second-floor apartment. Women and little girls. They’d just see how well he handled it when he had a man to deal with.

He pounded again and seriously considered kicking the door in. The cold edge of his rage had flashed to a burn.

“If you’re looking for the old man, he split.”

Noah glanced around, saw the woman—hell, the hooker, he corrected.

“Split where?”

“Hey, I don’t keep tabs on the neighbors, honey. You a cop?”

“No, I’ve got business with him, that’s all.”

“Look a little like a cop,” she decided after an expert up-and-down survey. “Parole officer?”

“What makes you think he needs one?”

“Shit, you think I can’t spot a con? He did some long time. What he do, kill somebody?”

“I just want to talk to him.”

“Well, he ain’t here.” She kept moving, giving Noah a unattractive whiff of cheap perfume and stale sex. “Packed up his little bag and moved out yesterday.”

Long after the Center had closed for the day, Olivia worked in her office. The paperwork had a nasty habit of building up on her during late spring and summer. She much preferred taking groups on the trail, giving lectures or heading a tour of the backcountry for a few days.

She caught herself staring at the phone, again, and muttered curses under her breath. It was humiliating, absolutely mortifying, to realize that part of the reason she was working late again was the hope that Noah would call.

Which he hadn’t done in two days, she reminded herself. Not that he was under any obligation to call her, of course. Not that she couldn’t, if she wanted to, call him. Which she wouldn’t do because, damn it, it would look as if she was hoping he’d call.

She was acting like a high school girl with a crush. At least she thought she was. She’d never been a high school girl with a crush. Apparently she’d had more sense at sixteen than she had now.

Now she daydreamed over the flowers he’d sent. She remembered the exact tone of his voice when he’d said her name. After he’d kissed her. The texture of his hands against her face. The little lurch of shock and pleasure in her own stomach.

The way he talked and talked, she thought now, poking and prodding at her until she gave up and laughed. He’d been the first man she’d ever been attracted to who could make her laugh.

He was certainly the only man she’d ever thought about after he was out of sight.

No, maybe she should say the second man, as the younger version of Noah had attracted her, charmed her, confused her. They were both just different enough now for this . . . whatever it was between them, to be somehow new. And very compelling.

Which, she supposed, said as much about her as it did about him.

She hadn’t wanted anything but surface involvements, and she hadn’t wanted many of those.

Why in the world was she sitting here analyzing her feelings when she didn’t want to have any feelings in the first place? She had enough to worry about without adding Noah Brady to the mix.

She glanced toward her little storage closet. She’d buried the music box under the packing, stuffed it in the closet. Why had he sent it? Was it a peace offering or a threat? She didn’t want the first and refused to be intimidated by the second.

But she hadn’t been able to throw it away.

When the phone rang, she jumped foolishly, then rolled her eyes in annoyance. It had to be Noah, she thought. Who else would call so late? She caught herself before she could snatch eagerly at the receiver, deliberately let it ring three full times while she took careful breaths.

When she picked it up, her voice was cool and brisk. “River’s End Naturalist Center.”

She heard the music, just the faint drift of it, and imagined Noah setting a scene for a romantic phone call. She started to laugh, to open her mouth to make some pithy comment, then found herself unable to speak at all.

She recognized it now, Tchaikovsky’s
Sleeping Beauty.

The soaring, liquid, heartbreaking notes of it that took her back to a warm summer night and the metallic scent of blood.

Her hand tightened on the receiver while the panic-trip of her heart filled her head. “What do you want?” Her free hand pressed and rubbed between her breasts as if to shove back the rising pressure. “I know who you are. I know what you are.”

The monster was free.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

It was a lie. Terror, hot, greasy flows of it swam into her belly and slicked over her skin. She wanted to crawl under her desk, roll up into a ball. Hide. Just hide.

“Stay away from me.” Fear broke through, spiking her voice. “Just stay away!”

She slammed the receiver down and, with panic bubbling madly in her throat, ran.

The doorknob slipped out of her hand, making her whimper with frustration until she could cement her grip. The Center was dark, silent. She nearly cowered back, but the phone rang again. Her own screams shocked her, sent her skidding wildly across the floor. Her breath tore out of her lungs, sobbed through the silence. She had to get out. To run. To be safe.

And as she reached for the door, the knob turned sharply. The door opened wide, and in its center was the shadow of a man.

Her vision went gray and hazy. Dimly she heard someone call her name. Hands closed over her arms. She felt herself sway, then slide through them into the black.

“Hey, hey, hey. Come on. Come back.”

Her head reeled. She felt little pats on her face, the brush of lips over hers. It took her a moment to realize she was on the floor, being rocked like a baby in Noah’s lap.

“Stop slapping me, you moron.” She lay still, weak from embarrassment and the dregs of panic.

“Oh yeah, that’s better. Good.” He covered her mouth with his, poured an ocean of relief into the kiss. “That’s the first time I ever had a woman faint at my feet. Can’t say I like it one damn bit.”

“I didn’t faint.”

“You did a mighty fine imitation, then.” She’d only been out for seconds, he realized, though it had seemed to take a lifetime for her to melt in his grip. “I’m sorry I scared you, coming in that way. I saw your office light.”

“Let me up.”

“Let’s just sit here a minute. I don’t think my legs are ready
to try standing yet.” He rested his cheek on hers. “So, how’ve you been otherwise?”

She wanted to laugh, and to weep. “Oh, just fine thanks. You?”

He shifted her so he could grin into her face. Then just the look of her, clear amber eyes, pale skin, had something moving inside him. “I really missed you.” His hand roamed through her hair now, stroking. “It’s so weird. Do you know how much time we’ve actually spent together?”

“No.”

“Not enough,” he murmured, and lowered his mouth to hers again. This time her lips were soft and welcomed him. Her arms lifted and enfolded him. He felt himself sink, then settle so that even the wonder of it seemed as natural as breathing.

She had no defenses now. He drew her in, soft, slow, sure until there was nothing but that stirring mating of lips.

“Liv.” He traced kisses along her jaw, up to her temple. “Let me close the door.”

“Hmm?”

Her sleepy answer had sparks of heat simmering inside the warmth. “The door.” His hand brushed over her breast, his fingers spreading as she arched toward him. “I don’t want to make love with you in an open doorway.”

She made another humming sound, scraping her teeth over his bottom lip as she slapped at the door in an attempt to close it herself.

Then the phone rang, and she was clawing to get free.

“It’s just the phone. Christ.” To defend himself, he clamped his arms over hers.

“It’s him. Let me go! It’s him.”

He didn’t ask whom she meant. She only used that tone when she spoke of her father. “How do you know?”

Her eyes wheeled white with panic. “He called before—just before.”

“What did he say to you?”

“Nothing.” Overwhelmed, she curled up, clamped her hands over her ears. “Nothing, nothing.”

“It’s okay, it’s all right. Stay right here.” He nudged her aside
and with blood in his eye strode into the office. Even as he reached for the receiver, the ringing stopped.

“It was him.” She’d managed to get up, managed to walk to the door. But she was shaking. “He didn’t say anything. He just played the music. The music my mother had on the stereo the night he killed her. He wants me to know he hasn’t forgotten.”

He’d managed to book a room, but had been warned it was only available for one night. For the remainder of the month, the lodge was fully booked. There were a couple of campsites still available, but he couldn’t work up any enthusiasm in that area.

Still, he was going to have to snag one, and buy himself some camping equipment if he meant to stay.

And he meant to stay.

His original plan had been to rent a snazzy suite in some hotel within reasonable driving distance where he could work in comfort and seduce Olivia in style. After what he’d learned the night before, he wasn’t willing to stay that far away.

He intended to keep an eye on her. The only way to accomplish that was to stay put and to be more stubborn than she was.

There’d been a test of that the night before as well. She’d told him about the phone call, the music box, and her fear had been alive in the room with them. But the moment she’d gotten it out, she’d toughened up again, stepped back from him.

He thought part of it had been an incredibly misplaced sense of embarrassment at showing a weakness. But on another level, he decided this was the way she’d shored up any holes in her defenses for years. She set it aside, closed it off and refused to talk about it.

She’d fired up when he’d said he was taking her home. She knew the way, he’d get lost on the way back, she didn’t need a bodyguard. And wouldn’t be
taken
anywhere by anyone.

Noah stepped out on his tiny first-floor patio and scanned the deep green of the summer forest.

He’d never actually dragged a woman to his car before, he thought now. Never seriously wrestled with one in a personal match that didn’t have the end goal of sex on the minds of both
participants. And he’d never come quite so close to losing to a girl.

He rubbed his bruised ribs absently.

He wondered if he should be ashamed of having enjoyed it quite so much, then decided against it. He’d gotten her home safely, had managed to block her last punch long enough to punctuate his victory with a very satisfying kiss.

Until she’d bitten him.

God, he was crazy about her.

And concerned enough to make him determined to deal with Sam Tanner. To keep Olivia safe and to give her some peace of mind.

He went back inside and called his father. “How’s Mom?”

“She’s fine. I drove her in to work today and browbeat a promise out of her that she wouldn’t go anywhere alone. I’ll be driving her to and from until . . . until.”

“No word on Tanner?”

“No. He withdrew two thousand in cash from his bank account. He rented his room by the week and had paid up. We’re—the police are interested in questioning him about the picture, but there’s not a lot they can do. I tugged some strings and had a couple of my buddies check the airports and train stations for reservations in his name. Nothing.”

“He needs to be found. Hire a detective. The best you know. I can afford it.”

“Noah—”

“This is my party, I foot the bill. I’ll arrange for you to leave messages for me here at the lodge. I’m going to be doing the tent thing for a while and I might not have my cell phone on me, so I won’t always be reachable. I’ll be checking in as often as I can.”

“Noah, if he’s decided it’s payback, you’re a target. He’s dying, he’s got nothing to lose.”

“I grew up with a cop. I know how to handle myself. Take care of Mom.”

Frank waited a beat. “I know how to take care of what’s mine. Watch yourself, Noah.”

“Same goes.” He hung up, then paced the little room while
he tried to juggle an idea out of his mind. When it came, it was so simple, so perfect, he grinned. “I know how to take care of what’s mine, too,” he murmured. And hoping she’d cooled off, he went to find Olivia.

She hadn’t cooled off. In fact, she was nursing her temper as a devoted mother would a fretful baby. She’d take spit-in-his-eye temper over the sick, shaky panic she felt every time her office phone rang.

So she nurtured it, she used it, she all but wallowed in it.

When Noah walked into her office, she got to her feet, slowly, her eyes cold, steady. Like a gunfighter, she shot fast and from the hip.

“Get your sorry ass out of my office. And off MacBride property. If you’re not checked out and gone inside of ten minutes, I’m calling the cops and having you charged with assault.”

“You’ll never make it stick,” he said with a cheer he knew would infuriate her. “I’m the one with the bruises. Don’t swear,” he added quickly and shut the door at his back. “There’re young, impressionable children out there. Now, I’ve got a deal for you.”

“A deal for me?” She bared her teeth in a snarl, then jerked back when the phone rang.

Before she could move, Noah snatched it off the hook himself. “River’s End Naturalist Center. Ms. MacBride’s office. This is Raoul, her personal assistant. I’m sorry, she’s in a meeting. Would you like—”

“Idiot.” She hissed at him and wrestled the phone out of his hand. “This is Olivia MacBride.”

Noah shrugged, then wandered around the room as she dealt with business. When she ended the conversation, then said nothing, he checked the soil of a nicely blooming African violet. “I’ve been thinking about taking a few days to get away from technology,” he decided. “To test myself. Man against nature, you know.” He looked back.

She was still standing, but she had her hands linked together
now. The fire had gone out of her eyes, leaving them carefully blank.

“I’d think less of you if you weren’t afraid, because then I’d think you were stupid.” He said it quietly, with just the slightest edge of annoyance. How could he see so much, she wondered, without even seeming to look?

“I’m not a damsel in distress. I can take care of myself.”

“Good, because I’m hoping you’ll be looking after me the next few days. I want to do some hiking and camping in the backcountry.”

Her laugh came fast and was none too flattering. “The hell you do.”

“Three days. You and me.” He held up a finger before she could laugh again. “We get away for a while. You do what you do best. And so do I. You’d agreed to interviews, so we’ll talk. This place is something you love, and I want you to show it to me. I want to see what you see when you look at it.”

“For the book.”

“No, for me. I want to be alone with you.”

She could feel her resolve, and her temper, melting. “I’ve rethought that situation, and I’m not interested.”

“Yes, you are.” Unoffended, he took her hand, skimming his thumb over her knuckles. “You’re just mad at me because I outmuscled you last night. Actually, it wasn’t—” He broke off as he glanced down at her hand and saw the faint trail of bruises just above her wrist. “I guess I’m not the only one with bruises.” He lifted her wrist, kissed it. “Sorry.”

“Cut it out.” She slapped his hand away. “All right, I’m mad because you saw me at my worst, my weakest, and I let you see it. I’m mad because you wouldn’t leave me alone, and I’m mad because I like being with you even when you irritate me.”

“You can count on staying mad for a while, then. I’m not going anywhere until we figure everything out. Let’s go play in the forest, Livvy.”

“I have work.”

“I’m a paying client. And as part of the deal, you can give me a list of what I need and I’ll buy what’s available at the
lodge. Between the guide fee and the equipment, you’re going to take in a couple of grand easy. Delegate, Liv. You know you can.”

“You also need backcountry permits.”

“What’ll they think of next?”

“Twenty-four hours, you’ll be crying for your laptop.”

“Bet?”

“Hundred bucks.”

“Deal.” He gave her hand a squeeze.

He hadn’t expected her to send over a list that included wardrobe, detailing down to how many pairs of socks and underwear she recommended he take for the trip. It was like being twelve again and getting a to-do list from his mother.

He bought the gear, including a new backpack, as she’d pointed out on her list that his was too small and had a number of holes in it. And though they were going to weigh him down, he bought two bottles of wine and nested them inside spare socks.

Camping was one thing. Going primitive was another.

By the time he was done, he figured he’d be carrying thirty-five pounds on his back. And imagined after five miles or so it would weigh like a hundred.

With some regret he locked his cell phone and laptop in the trunk of the rental car. “I’ll be back, boys,” he murmured.

“Looks like I’m going to win that hundred bucks before we leave.”

“That wasn’t whining. It was a fond farewell.”

He turned and studied her. She wore jeans, roomy and faded, a River’s End T-shirt and a light jacket tied around her waist. Sturdy boots, he noted, with a number of impressive nicks and scars on the leather. She carried her pack as though it were weightless.

The smirk suited her. “You sure you’re up for this?”

“I’m raring.”

She adjusted the cap that shaded her eyes, then jerked her thumb. “Let’s get started.”

He found the forest more appealing if no less primitive without the rain they’d hiked through the last time. Little slivers of sunlight fought their way through gaps in the overstory, shimmering unexpectedly on the now-lush green leaves of the maples and the fragile blades of ferns.

The air cooled. Ripened.

He remembered and recognized much of the life around him now. The varied patterns of bark on the giant trees, the shape of leaves of the shrub layer. The vast, nubby carpets of moss didn’t seem quite so foreign, nor did the knobs and scallops of lichen.

He gave her silence as his muscles warmed to the pace and tuned his ears to the rustles and calls that brought music to the forest.

She waited for him to speak, to ask questions or fall into one of those casual monologues he was so skilled at. But he said nothing, and the vague tension she’d strapped on with her pack slid away.

They crossed a narrow stream that bubbled placidly, skirted a leafy bed of ferns, then began to climb the long, switchbacking trail that would take them into backcountry.

Vine maple grew thick, an elastic tangle of inconvenience along the trail. Olivia avoided it when she could, worked through it when she couldn’t and once grabbed at it quickly before it would swing back and thwack Noah in the face.

“Thanks.”

“I thought you’d lost your voice.”

“You wanted quiet.” He reached over to rub his hand over the back of her neck. “Had enough?”

“I just tune you out when you talk too much.”

Noah chuckled then went on.

“I really like being with you, Liv.” He took her hand, sliding his fingers through hers. “I always did.”

“You’ll throw off your pace.”

“What’s the hurry?” He brought her hand to his lips in an absent gesture. “I thought you’d bring Shirley.”

“She sticks with Grandpop most days, and dogs aren’t allowed in the backcountry. Here, look.” She stopped abruptly and crouched, tapping a finger beside faint imprints on the trail.

“Are those—”

“Bear tracks,” she said. “Pretty fresh, too.”

“How do you know that? They always say that in the movies. The tracks are fresh,” he said in a grunting voice. “He passed through here no more than an hour ago wearing a black hat, eating a banana and whistling ‘Sweet Rosie from Pike.’ ”

He made her laugh. “All the bears I know whistle show tunes.”

“You made a joke, Liv.” He ducked his head and gave her a loud kiss. “Congratulations.”

She scowled at him and rose. “No kissing on the trail.”

“I didn’t read that in my camper’s guide.” He got to his feet and started after her. “How about eating? Is there eating on the trail?”

She’d anticipated his stomach. Digging into her pocket, she pulled out a bag of trail mix, passed it to him.

“Yum-yum, bark and twigs, my favorite.” But he opened the bag and offered her a share.

He would have taken her hand again, but the trail narrowed and she bumped him back. Still, he thought she’d smiled more in the last ten minutes than she usually did in a full day. Some time alone together in the world she loved best was working for both of them.

“You have a great butt, Liv.”

This time she didn’t bother to hold on to the vine maple and smiled again when she heard the slap and his muffled curse. Olivia took a swig from her canteen as they climbed. The light sweat she’d worked up felt good; it felt healthy. Her muscles were limber, her mind clear. And, she admitted, she was enjoying the company.

She’d chosen this trail, one that skirted up the canyon, because other hikers rarely chose to negotiate it. Long switchbacks leading to steep terrain discouraged many. But she
considered it one of the most beautiful and appreciated the solitude.

They moved through the lush forest, thick with green, climbing up and down ridges, along a bluff that afforded views of the river that ran silver and smooth. Wildlife was plentiful here where the majestic elk wandered and raccoon waddled to wash.

“I have dreams about this.” Noah spoke half to himself as he stopped, just to look.

“About hiking?”

“No, about being here.” He tried to catch hold of them, the fragments and slippery pieces of subconscious. “Green and thick, with the sound of water running by. And . . . I’m looking for you.” His gaze snapped to hers, held with that sudden intensity that always rocked her. “Olivia. I’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

When he stepped forward, she felt her heart flutter wildly. “We have a long way to go.”

“I don’t think so.” Gently, he laid his hands on her shoulders, slid them down to cuff her wrists. “Come here a minute.”

“I don’t—”

“Want kissing on the trail,” he finished. “Too bad.” He dipped his head, brushed his lips over hers once. Then again. “You’re shaking.”

“I am not.” Her bones had gone too soft to tremble.

“Maybe it’s me. Either way, it looks like this time I finally found you.”

She was afraid he was right.

She drew away and, too unsteady to speak, continued up the trail.

The first wet crossing was over a wide stream where the water ran clear and fast. A log bridge spanned it, and dotting the banks were clumps of wild foxglove with deep pink bells and a scatter of columbine with its bicolored trumpets. The scenery took a dramatic turn, from the deep, dank green of the river basin to the stunning old-growth forest where light speared down in shafts and pools.