AWOL with the Operative (15 page)

He explained this last action with a brief “If the fog lifts before we have a chance to pull out of here and that chopper should come nosing around, I want them to think there’s no one down here.”

His one exception was the front window overlooking the porch, where the overhang of the roof would conceal it from the air. Eve realized without being told that this one window needed to remain unshuttered in order for Sam to monitor the situation out front.

Not that there was anything he could monitor in the thick, persistent fog. Which was why at regular intervals throughout the afternoon he visited the lake below to check the condition of the ice. Of course, those frequent visits could also be an excuse to avoid her. Not that Eve questioned him about them, fearing it would only add to her sorrow.

His news when he returned was always brief and seldom varied. Reports like, “The slope is almost clear of snow.” Or, “The ice is still holding fast.”

There were shadows in Sam’s eyes. She couldn’t help noticing them, although she resisted the urge to ask him about them. What was the point when she knew he would either refuse to explain the private hell he suffered or deny its existence?

Maybe that darkness, mirroring her own bleakness, was her reason, as well, for keeping busy in the long, dull hours of the afternoon. It was either that or work herself into a state of deep despair, and she wouldn’t allow herself to do that.

There was enough to keep her busy. Finding cleaning supplies in the tiny broom closet in a corner of the kitchen, she set to work sweeping and dusting, picking up and putting away everything they’d used and no longer needed.

When Sam wondered why she was bothering, Eve leaned on her broom and explained it to him. “There’s enough evidence in and around the cabin for the owners to realize the place was invaded in their absence. The least I can do is to try to leave it in as neat of a condition as we found it.”

He nodded, voicing no objection to her intention.

It was late afternoon when Sam returned from his last visit to the lake.

“There’s a breeze picking up, a warm one from the south. The fog is beginning to shift at last.”

Crossing to the fireplace, he used one of the buckets of melted snow to wet down the flames. Eve watched as what remained of the smoke drifted up the chimney.

“It will be dark soon,” she observed. “That helicopter won’t be buzzing around out there at night. And even if it did, they couldn’t possibly see our smoke.”

“I’m not going to risk it.”

She thought about it for a moment before agreeing with him. Turning to the window, she gazed out at the fog. Or what was left of it. In the last light of the day, she could see the final shreds of it being driven away by a rising wind.

“We won’t need a fire tonight,” Sam said. “We’ll be warm enough in our coats.”

He went on to tell her they would sleep in the two easy chairs here in the living room, which meant returning the mattresses to the bedrooms.

“I don’t want any delay in the morning,” he said as she helped him haul the mattresses back to the bedrooms. “Ice or no ice, we’re getting out of here as soon as it’s light enough to find our way.”

He was all business now. They would not share a bed on the floor tonight. Probably no bed in the future, either. Eve was all too sadly aware of that.

Nor would she be able to cook another meal for them on the kitchen stove. That, also, had her feeling a silly, sentimental regret as they disposed of the cold ashes from the fireplace, dumping them outside in a patch of snow that had yet to melt.

The sacks of food and water Eve had prepared were parked beside the front door, ready for their quick departure in the morning. The only evening meal available to them from what was left in the kitchen were the handfuls of nuts and raisins they munched on.

“I don’t suppose you’ll let me light one of the kerosene lamps,” she said as darkness settled over the living room.

“Not a chance. I don’t want any glow that could be spotted from either the ground or the air.”

Although Eve thought he was being excessively cautious, she offered no objection. Maybe he was right. In any case, she was too tired to discuss it. Wrapping herself in one of the two blankets, the only bedding Sam would permit them, she curled into a corner of one of the easy chairs.

There was no reason for her not to go to sleep. Layered in her coat and the blanket, she was snug enough. But sleep didn’t come. How could it when she was so aware of Sam? She couldn’t see him in the darkness, but she could hear him prowling around the cabin, keeping a wakeful vigil.

His restless energy made her nervous. Made her wonder what he was thinking. But whatever those thoughts were, he kept them to himself. Nor, afraid to know them, did she ask.

Eventually, she did fall asleep. And was startled awake sometime in the middle of the night by a series of cracking noises, like the sounds of gunshots. Alarmed, she threw off her blanket and started up from the chair.

“Easy.”

Sam’s voice came from the direction of the window. Turning her head, she was able to make out his form, posted there at the glass.

“It’s the ice tearing apart on the lake,” he calmed her. “There’s moonlight out there. I can see the stuff breaking up. We’ve got a strong wind now moving it. With any luck, we’ll have completely open water by morning.”

At last!

Relieved, Eve drew the blanket over her again and went back to sleep.

The first, faint glimmer of daylight was stealing through the window when she awakened again. Stirring, she glanced at the other chair. In the end, Sam must have been overcome by fatigue. He was sprawled there, chin on his chest, long legs stretched out in front of him.

As tempting as the sight of him was, she resisted the urge to spend a few minutes admiring his totally masculine, stalwart figure. She would have to teach herself to no longer view him as anyone but the special agent who’d been charged to safely escort her to Chicago. An undertaking that would be hard for her, if not downright impossible.

Because how, Eve wondered, did you turn off powerful emotions, even if you were no longer entitled to them?

A question with no answer, which was why she turned her attention to another matter. Freeing herself from the blanket, which had somehow gotten tangled around her, she managed to get to her feet.

After folding the blanket, she draped it over her arm, intending to place it at the foot of one of the beds. She stopped first at the window to peer into the gloom.

The temperature must have dipped sharply in the hours before dawn, because a hoarfrost coated the twigs of the trees. It would glitter like a fairyland when the sun rose and then burn away rapidly into the fragrant pine air.

A pleasant observation. But not a practical one, which was why she directed her gaze to the lake below. Weak though the light still was, she was able to see that the waters were entirely free of ice. The transformation had happened with an amazing swiftness. Sam’s hope to leave here by canoe had been realized.

Her gaze strayed to the sleeping figure slouched in his chair. He must have kept watch almost straight through the night to permit himself this brief, probably much-needed rest. It was still very early. She was tempted to let him sleep on for just a bit longer. But Sam wouldn’t thank her for that.

As it turned out, she had no need to rouse him. A dreaded arrival took care of that.

Eve was on her way to the chair to wake him when she heard it. The sound of whirling blades, low but distinct, approaching from the north. The enemy was here! Already they were here!

Sam was instantly awake and on his feet. There must have been some clear expression of panic on her face, because he stretched out an arm, his hand closing around her wrist. Did he fear she might flee from the cabin if he didn’t hold her back?

They stood there without moving, without speaking, in an attitude of frozen alertness as they listened to the now-ominous beat of the helicopter. It seemed to be heading straight for the lake, as if its pilot knew exactly where to find them.

Eve cast her gaze around the room, seeing in her mind not what was here inside the cabin but what might be outside that could betray their presence. No smoke curling from the chimney. No open shutters except for the lone window overlooking the porch, and that wouldn’t be visible from the air, she remembered. Not with the roof concealing its existence. Their bootprints in the snow? She prayed not. Prayed those had all been erased in the thaw.

Were they safe?

Hard to believe when the chopper was roaring directly overhead now. When, from the sound of it, it must have swooped in low for a closer look at the cabin below. Taut seconds passed, unendurable seconds as they heard the machine circling above them. Once, twice and still again it passed above them. Then, mercifully, it swung away, the throb of it fading off into a hum.

Eve exhaled a long, quivering breath. “They’re going. They didn’t try to land.”

Sam released her wrist. “Maybe only because there’s no place for them to set down here, not with the ice on the lake gone. The only solid clearing is the slope out front, and that’s too steep for any landing.”

She stared at Sam, anxiety overwhelming her again. “You think they’re not gone, that they know we’re here?”

“They’re probably considering it, anyway. Enough to want to make certain. Only they’ll have to find a level clearing somewhere to put down before they can come investigating on foot. By then I plan for us to be far away from here. Come on, we’re going.”

Chapter 8

S
am took the lead, with both of them trotting down the hill, clutching their makeshift sacks of provisions. He paused when he reached the boatshed, looking and listening intently for any sight or sound of the helicopter. Thankfully, there was neither, making him hope that any clearing their enemy might have found was a long way off.

Tugging open the door on the landward side of the shed, he folded it back to admit light into the interior. Eve waited outside with their sacks while he made his way through the clutter to the door on the shore side, scraping it back to expose the softly lapping waters of the lake a few yards away.

Eve was inside the shed when he turned around. A shaft of light from the barely risen sun was streaming into the structure, bathing her in its golden glow. Worried though she plainly was, rumpled from her night in the chair, hair uncombed, she had never looked more enticing to him.

What in the hell are you doing?

Sucking in his breath, Sam sharply reminded himself he had no time to admire her in any condition. Whatever they had meant to each other was gone. His only duty now was to keep her safe.

“What?” she asked, puzzled by his hesitation.

“Nothing. Help me lift the canoe down from the rack, will you?”

Depositing both sacks and her shoulder bag on the floor, Eve gripped one end of the canoe and Sam the other. They removed it from the rack and loaded the two sacks into it. He dragged the canoe out of the shed and placed it on the edge of the shore, then returned for the paddle.

She must have heard him cussing under his breath. She came back inside, drawing the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“The paddle,” he said, hefting it in his hand. “The blade’s cracked clear across. It’ll never hold up under any pressure. There should be another one, but if there is, it’s missing. I don’t see it anywhere in this junk.”

“Then we’ll have to go back to the cabin for the other pair. We’ll need both of them. It might not have occurred to you, but I do know how to paddle a canoe.”

Sam gazed at her blankly. “What pair?”

“The pair mounted above the mantel. They’re crossed up there like a pair of swords. The owner’s idea of an appropriate decoration for a cabin, I suppose. Didn’t you ever notice them?”

“I guess not.” He was grateful, however, that Eve had. “Looks like we don’t have a choice, but let’s be quick about it.”

He hated this delay. He had expected to be gone by now, not charging up the hill again. Alert for any sign of trouble, he kept searching on both sides of them. There was still no movement, no sound. He shouldn’t have been bothered by the stillness, but he was. Probably a needless concern. Their situation did warrant it, though.

When they reached the cabin, he left Eve posted as a lookout on the front porch. “Wait here, and if you spot anything give a holler.”

With only one narrow window unshuttered, the living room was full of shadows when he re-entered it. No wonder he’d never paid any attention to the paddles. He paid attention to them now when, leaving the front door open behind him, he approached the fireplace, swearing again softly. The blasted things were out of his reach.

Kicking a footstool into place, he climbed up on it. He expected to lift the paddles down with ease from hooks drilled into the mortar between the stones. He was mistaken. The paddles were anchored by heavy wire buried somehow into the chimney. Wire twisted around them so tightly he wasted long, precious minutes in the gloom freeing them from their mounting.

It wasn’t until he backed down off the stool, a paddle in either hand, that he became aware of the total stillness. A stillness that made him suddenly uneasy.