Dark Memories (The DARK Files Book 1) (19 page)

Her mind and body still in a daze, she lay awake, a battle raging within her. Why had she let desire overrule her judgment? And what could she do now? If Cole saw the scar on her abdomen, he’d know or she’d have to tell him the rest of the truth. And then she’d have to watch him withdraw from her, from a woman with no means to give him what he needed.

The dam of her resistance had crumbled, but she could no more cope with the flood of passion and love than with the threat to her life. Love, like the fear, drained her, leaving her exhausted.
Love and death were inexorably linked. Once Alexei Markos and his hit man were caught, she would never see Cole again.

Tears stung her eyes. She held still as they leaked out and trickled down her face. Why did he have to be so gentle and strong, so caring with her students, so generous with a vulnerable child, so protective — and even more than the proud, successful man she always knew he could become? He deserved the family she could never give him.

Why did she have to fall in love with him again?

And what was she going to do now?

***

Cole lounged in a beach chair as he waited for his phone. His contact should call soon with an update on Markos. Laura was safe in the inn kitchen with Joyce Hart and some other women, so he could damn well sit here staring at the lake and digging his toes in the warm sand until the hellish device chimed.

He scraped fingers across his jaw. Hell, he should’ve known sex would make no difference to her in their relationship. He shouldn’t have been surprised that when he woke up, she was already in the shower.
Hadn’t he said it himself? She wanted nothing more from him but sex. He was only a reminder of her past mistakes and heartbreak.

“Take what you can get, buddy.” But the acknowledgment twisted a knife in his chest.

“Who you talking to?” piped a laughing voice.

“Looks like he’s talking to himself,” said another.

Cole swung around, springing to his feet at the same time. Butch and Zach. The way this op was dragging out was making him too jumpy. “Hey, guys. You caught me.”

He sat back down and the two boys sank onto the sand cross-legged before him. Both wore cargo shorts, Sea Dogs shirts and sly grins.

“My dad talks to himself all the time,” Butch offered. “Says it helps him think.”

“Does he? Guess that’s why I do it too.” He glanced from one to the other. “So, what’s up?”

Zach’s grin transformed into a conspiratorial expression. “Remember you told me to look out for suspicious characters?”

Cole ran his tongue around his teeth. Damn, the kid might get in over his head in spite of their agreement. “You got something for me?”

“Me and Zach are going to see the fireworks in a while,” Butch interjected. “My mom and dad are taking us. So we only got a few minutes. Go ahead, Zachy.”

His friend nodded, the action bobbing his Mohawk do. “There’s a guy in cabin twelve, you know the one with the little elves in the yard.”

Cole nodded. “What about the guy?”

Zach scooted across the sand on his butt until he was nearly sitting on Cole’s toes. He looked from one side to the other, on the outlook for eavesdroppers. Nobody was on the beach but them.
“Well, the dude’s weird, that’s what.”

“We call him Mr. Blow-Dry,” Butch said. “On account of his hair. One of those comb-over jobs to hide a bald dome, but poofed up and fluffy.”

Zach nodded. “He goes around with binoculars and stares at people. Like in their cabins. Or on the beach. He hides behind trees. This morning during class I saw him watching us. Watching Laura.” He nodded his head twice for emphasis.

Butch added, his almond-shaped eyes narrowed for effect, “He’s some kind of spy, for sure. Definitely up to something.”

Could be the hit man. Or the burglar. Or merely a bird watcher or a sailing aficionado. The problem bore checking into.
He leaned back in the wooden chair and placed his hands on his knees. “This Mr. Blow-Dry’s mighty suspicious. I agree.”

“So what do you think we ought to do?” Zach’s wide eyes glittered with anticipation.

“You did good, bud. Both of you. Real smart spotting this character and keeping an eye on him. Laura will be proud of you, coming to me about this, like we agreed. But your part of the job is over. You go ahead to the fireworks, and I’ll take it from here.”

“But what if you need help? Um, like backup,” Zach said, as intent and focused as a DARK officer.

Cole nodded thoughtfully. Clapped the boys on their shoulders. “If I can’t handle this dude alone, I’ll wait ’til tomorrow when you guys can back me up. In the meantime, don’t say a word to anybody.”

Zach appeared to be ready to object, but Butch’s dad called to them. Pantomiming zipping his mouth closed, Zach raced away with his friend.

Adrenaline revving his pulse, Cole tapped his phone. Maybe this was the break they’d been waiting for. To end the damn mission.

Discounting the punch to his heart, he punched numbers. “Byrne. Meet me in ten.”

***

Laura yawned as she peeled vegetables in the inn’s kitchen. Twilight had given way to semi-moonless dark, and she was tired. Little sleep and an undercurrent of fear and dread did that to a person.

But she was safe for now. Physically.

Between sailing and tennis, the time she spent slicing and dicing afforded her protection among a chatting group of kitchen volunteers.

And gave her respite from Cole’s intensity.
And her own weakness for him.

She pared another potato down to its white pith. The past few days had scraped away her protective hide and left only shaky resolve, mushier than a potato. Like peeling the layers of an onion, the togetherness with Cole was stripping away her secrets one by one, down to the last, the one hoarded for ten years in her soul.

These few hours of separation from each other provided no respite. This morning, hoping he hadn’t noticed what lay on her bureau, she’d slipped the chain over her head and tucked the charm inside her shirt between her breasts. If he saw the little gold crown he’d given her so many years ago, she couldn’t deny her feelings for him. As it was, he occupied her every thought when she ought to be worrying about an assassin.

His hovering didn’t help. She didn’t see him now, but before sunset when he was supposedly relaxing on the beach, every time she looked out the window above the sink, he was prowling around, on patrol. She could almost hear him growl and grind his teeth.

Vanessa handed her a smart phone. “Call for you. It’s Cole.”

Laura blinked, then dried her hands on a dish towel. Cole? Why would he have Vanessa’s number? What was going on? “Yes?”

“Laura, something’s come up, and I can’t meet you. I’ll tell you about it later. Vanessa will escort you back to the cabin. You’ll be safe with her. She’s one of us.”

“Va—”

“Don’t say anything. You’ll blow her cover. I gotta go. You can trust Officer Ward.” With that he disconnected.

Had she already ruined their secrecy? But Joyce and Stan were conferring over the menu for the festivities. Bea and Doris Van Tassel and two of the regular kitchen staff were peeling boiled eggs and cutting up chickens. No one had apparently noticed her conversation.

The redheaded vacationer known as Vanessa, aka Officer Ward, nodded and smiled as she plucked her phone from Laura’s nerveless fingers. “It’s okay. We’ll talk later.”

She’d known there was another officer, but hadn’t a clue as to who. The woman was open and gregarious, not a flinty-eyed warrior like Cole. Perhaps that made her suitable for undercover work.
The notion that Vanessa had been looking out for her comforted her, but the reminder that she needed extra protection added another layer to her fear.

After the potato salad was mixed, the two women walked toward Laura’s cabin. Faint booms and crackles announced the distant Alderport fireworks, but the barrier of Deer Mountain kept them from view. The recent rain perfumed the air with scents of green grass and flowers. Sunset brought cool air and mosquitoes, and Laura shivered in her short-sleeved shirt as she flicked away a tiny marauder.

“Sorry to shock you like that,” Vanessa said gently, “but we’d hoped my being undercover would help protect you as well as put me on the inside. The fewer people who knew, the safer for all of us.”

“It’s all right. I understand.” Laura smiled. A memory puzzled her. “That night you found me downstairs at the theater, was that coincidence?”

The officer laughed. “Not a chance. Cole sent me to look for you. He was searching everywhere else. I’ve never seen the man panic before.”

“Now your stealth makes sense. Can you tell me what he had to do that was so urgent? Is something breaking?”

“I can’t say. He’ll tell you when he returns.” She smiled and patted Laura’s forearm. “I know this is very hard for you. Cole’s the best. And we’re all doing everything we can.”

“I know. And I’m grateful.” She was. But if she’d run to some new, anonymous spot, she could’ve stayed out of a killer’s crosshairs. Would she have avoided new heartbreak? No, Cole would’ve been right with her, like now, 24/7. Yet she wouldn’t give up this time out of time with him. “Maybe Markos will be caught soon, and we can all go back to our lives.”

The other woman flipped her braid off her shoulder and laughed. She looked behind them and peered down the side path, her hand in her pants pocket. “Undercover is my life.”

A gun, thought Laura. Vanessa must have a gun in her pocket. She’d had one that other night too. She’d had her hand in her pocket the same way. An automatic pistol like Cole’s.

A small frisson prickled her spine. “Don’t you get tired of being someone else? Of playing a role?”

“Sure I do,” Vanessa said as they approached the cabin door. “And I’ll give up fieldwork for a desk job one day, analysis or supervision. But for now, this works for me. For some reason people tell me their worries and secrets. The other officers call me the Confessor. I’m good at what I do.”

Laura laughed, more at herself than at the other woman’s words. “That you are. I certainly never suspected.”

After the officer checked through the cabin, she said, “Isaacs is on outside surveillance tonight, and Cole should be back soon. He didn’t ask me to, but I can stay if you want.”

“I’ll be fine. Go ahead. You must be as tired as I am.”

Vanessa acknowledged her weariness and left after a reminder to lock up.

Before Laura closed the door, she spied a folded paper jammed in the screen.

NEITHER WOMAN HAD noticed it. What was this? With trembling fingers, she plucked out the paper. After unfolding it, she sagged with relief.

Deep breaths slowed her pulse rate as she read the scrawled note:
“Meet me on the stage at 10:00 p.m. — C.”

Cole had returned. With that knowledge, she felt safer. But why did he want her to meet him on the stage? The theater was dark on Tuesdays. And why would he ask her to go alone if he’d had Vanessa escort her home? The handwriting meant nothing. She hadn’t seen his handwriting for years, and the only writing he did here was on a keyboard.

But a darkened, empty theater? She frowned. Only the too-stupid-to-live movie heroine would go without a thought. Would endanger herself that way. She had to think through this logically, not with fear vising her stomach.

Her watch read nine thirty. If she could reach him on his phone, she’d know. She hurried to the phone in the bedroom and keyed his number.
When she placed the receiver to her ear, she heard only dead silence. The phone was dead. She dropped the instrument like a live scorpion.

If someone planned to trap her in the cottage, the first thing to do was eliminate the telephone, cut the line or something. The other cottages around her were unoccupied, and everyone else in Alderport for the fireworks. Maybe that’s why Cole wanted her to get out of there.

If he sent the note at all.

Whatever the case, staying alone in the cabin seemed like a bad idea.
She made a quick circuit, closing blinds as she went. Her pulse pounded, and she forced her lungs to perform deep, calming breathing.

If she went to the inn, she could alert Vanessa, who would know what to do. Or they could go together. Laura stripped off her flowered capris in favor of dark jeans. She was stuck with white sneakers. She’d lost her only other shoes in the boat sinking.

One pair of shoes. Only one. Her closet back in D.C. had custom shelves filled with shoes. Flats, high heels, slides, running shoes, tennis sneakers, sandals. Red, blue, black, white, puce. Chuckling at how unimportant that seemed, she tugged on a dark sweatshirt.

If she left through the window, any would-be intruder would think she was still in the cabin. She could sneak through the woods around to the inn. She listened at the open window before lifting the screen and slipping outside.

She kept low, darting from tree to tree, shadow to shadow. The soft mulch of evergreen needles cushioned her steps and sent a reassuring pine fragrance to her senses. Occasional sleepy twittering and the eerie call of a hunting owl broke the silence.

Except for the porch light, the inn was dark and battened down. Guests had to use a key after nine o’clock, and their movement triggered lobby lighting. Not much at the resort was locked, but security at the inn gave city dwellers the protection they expected, whether necessary or not.

But it meant Laura couldn’t go inside.
She didn’t know Vanessa’s room number anyway.

If she went to the theater, was she the ditzy blonde heading down the dark basement steps where the serial killer waited? Or was Cole waiting for her?
She couldn’t go back to the cabin. The note had to come from him. So…

Skeins of clouds played hide-and-seek with the half moon, a mocking smile in the night sky. The unreliable light decreased her confidence, but her feet insisted on taking her toward the theater. She swiped perspiration from her brow when the leviathan bulk of the barn loomed ahead. Quick steps brought her to the entrance.

No vehicle in the parking lot. That meant nothing. Cole could easily arrive on foot.

The backstage doors were kept locked, but not the lobby. She slipped inside. The only illumination came from the exit lights, enough to prevent her blundering into the Bad Boy, parked in the lobby as advertising until hoisted on stage.