EDGE (22 page)

“What are you thinking of actually doing?”

“I’m finally going to have him out of my life,” Linnet said. “With the amount of money coming to me, I can make his life miserable. We can expand the lodge, bring in more people, hire more help. Yeah, we can turn this place into a world class resort.” She rubbed her hands together. “That would do it. That would drive him off. He hates the people-traffic we already bring in.”

It would drive Mel off too. She didn’t want this place to become a world class resort. The Edge would lose what was special about it if they expanded. “All right, Linnet. Let’s come back to earth. Why don’t we wait until Ramsey shows back up and ask him what he’s up to? Then decide. After you’ve had time to
really
think about this.”

“You’re right, of course.”

Linnet nodded but Mel could tell she wasn’t listening. She was off in la-la land, and there was no reaching her now.

“You get the goods?” Tom asked, dropping into the deck chair next to Cache.

Cache rolled his eyes, capped his pen, and closed his journal. There went his moment of peace. He’d hoped a day recuperating from his ordeal would have mellowed Tom out. Apparently, it hadn’t. “I take it you’re feeling better.”

“I want off this rock. The sooner the better. So, what did you get?”

“I’m not doing the story without Mel’s okay. We’ve been through this.”

“Come on, Cache. What’s the big deal? You’ve done stories before on people who weren’t too keen on you exposing them. Why all the ethics now?”

“I’m not the same man anymore.”

“Don’t tell me that getting yourself almost blown up changed your life forever.”

Cache couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Yes,” he hissed. “How could it not? My friends were killed, among many others.”

“Okay, relax. Didn’t mean to get you riled up. Tell me you have at least snapped a decent picture of her?”

There was no way Cache was going to inform Tom he had indeed snapped a “decent picture” of Mel that very afternoon. “She’s camera shy.”

“I think you’re stalling.” Tom rose from his seat. “If you don’t do the story, then I will. Got it? Either get her okay, or I’ll write it up myself.” With that, he stomped back into the lodge.

Cache sat there, his hands fisted. How dare Tom give him an ultimatum? Who the hell did he think he was? That settled it. This job wasn’t for him anymore.

Garrett climbed onto the deck from the beach and commandeered Tom’s seat. “What are you planning to do about him?”

Cache looked in the direction where Tom had stormed off. “Got a mosquito swamp we could lose him in?”

“Just say the word. You seriously won’t do a story without Mel’s okay.”

Cache met Garrett’s stare. “No story without written approval from Mel herself. You have my word.”

Garrett cocked his head to the side. “You care about her don’t you?”

“She’s easy to care about.”

“No, she isn’t. She’s a damn stubborn woman. Though the trouble is definitely worth the effort.” Garrett smiled the smile of a man who knew the woman intimately.

Cache wanted to wipe the smile right off his face.

“Don’t even try it,” Garrett said, the smile gone and the face of a warrior in its place.

Sure as hell would be satisfying to hit the bastard. “Did she mean anything to you or did you just use her?”

“Watch your step. Of course, I cared for her. Still do. Now that she and I are strictly ‘just friends’ that doesn’t mean I’m out of her life. Someone needs to keep an eye out for her. Protect her from people like you.”

“She doesn’t need protection from me. I have a feeling she can take of herself and would object to you standing up for her.”

“You’ve learned a thing or two, haven’t you? Yes, she’d resent me for looking out for her best interests, but I can’t seem to help myself.”

She seemed to affect him the same. He wanted to slay her dragons.

“I see we understand each other.” Garrett rose from the chair. “I’m out of here as soon as my ride shows, but if I find that you’ve cheated her in any way, I’ll find you and you won’t like it.” He smiled the smile of a very dangerous man.

Dinner was once again worthy of a five star rating. Plump, pink shrimp Sergei had caught in the cove, sat alongside garlic cheddar biscuits, fresh salad greens from the garden, and the best blueberry pie Cache had ever tasted.

The weather held so dinner was served outdoors again with the ocean and fjords as the postcard backdrop.

How had he lived in the city for so long, Cache wondered. Granted he hadn’t stayed long when he was there. Just to report in and get his next assignment. A change of clothes, a gathering of supplies, and then boarding the next plane to somewhere else.

He was forty-two and had seen many things, done even more and yet he felt as if he’d wasted much of that time. What had he to show for it? A wife? In fact, he’d lost a good woman who had loved him. Children? He wasn’t getting any younger. Family? His parents had passed away years ago and he’d been an only child. With his travels he’d lost contact with his extended family. Friends? The best two friends a man could call his own were now dead because of him. He knew he hadn’t killed them directly, but he’d suggested the restaurant that they’d eaten at. Had it been bad luck or fate?

Whichever it was, it didn’t change the fact that Hank and Sarah were dead and he was alive.

It was time to honor their lives with his own. He’d already decided that his job was over. So what did he do now? He didn’t want to leave this place. Not yet. He’d begun to heal here. His leg was challenged better than any round of exercises a physical therapist could put him through. He’d already regained more strength in the last week than in the last month in New York.

They were going to Homer tomorrow. He needed to make some arrangements. Needed to talk with Mel about staying on. Would she be pleased or annoyed at the thought of him extending his visit?

Mel gazed at Cache across the dinner table and wondered what he was thinking. The man was unusually quiet, seemingly content to eat his dinner without joining in the conversation around them. She wondered if the hike had been too much for him and the pain was silencing his ever-questioning mouth.

He’d sure had some pointed ones today. She’d shot some arrows his way too. He’d fought his own demons. It made it harder to ignore him, knowing what he was going through. She’d been tempted to share some of what she’d gone through and maybe that was what bothered her now.

She never shared, and the impulse to do exactly that had shut her up faster than any fear of him knowing what she’d been through.

After dinner, a few suggested games in the great room. Mel opted out, needing time to herself and whistled for Rinka to join her for a walk on the beach.

Mel breathed in the crisp, clean air with a touch of moisture on the breeze while tossing a piece of driftwood for Rinka to fetch and return. Rinka could play fetch for hours, though it looked as if the weight she’d recently gained was hampering her efforts. Maybe Mel should take her to the vet tomorrow when they visited Homer.

Farther down the beach, Mel came to a favorite spot of hers, naturally buffeted by the weather with the heavy overhang of spruce growing through the cliff side. An outcropping of wave-worn boulders, perfect for sitting dotted the area when the tide was out. She tossed the stick and Rinka went bounding after it with a yip and a flash of her question-mark tail. Mel went to sit, and stopped cold in the action as she spotted a name scrawled, over and over, in the sand.

AnnaMaria AnnaMaria AnnaMaria

AnnaMaria AnnaMaria AnnaMaria

AnnaMaria AnnaMaria AnnaMaria

The name given to her by the Ascension, with the sick meaning of being the daughter and wife to Jedidiah Dawson.

She reached out a shaky hand and traced the groves in the sand. The image in her bedroom window, the bible verse in the mirror, they could have been figments of her imagination. Hallucinations. But this...this was tangible. She felt the sharp, gritty lines of the letters. They cut through protective barriers she’d spent twenty years erecting.

An infuriated, fearful sob caught her unaware.

Rinka came bounding up to her, dropping a stick in the middle of one of the
AnnaMarias,
her large paws distorting the names, and breaking Mel out of the spell threatening to drag her down into a nightmare she couldn’t escape from. She dropped to her knees and slashed through the names, flinging sand left and right. Rinka jumped back and woofed, obviously wondering if this was some new kind of game. Mel flung the stick away and Rinka leaped to chase after it. By the time she returned, Mel had clawed through all the
AnnaMarias
. Nine in all. The significance of the number wasn’t lost on her.

How many days did she have left?

“Mel!”

She swiveled around to find Cache limping toward her. She jumped to her feet, rubbing her hands clear of sand on her jeans, and shortened the distance by meeting him.

“You digging for clams?” he asked, gesturing to where she’d been scrubbing away.

“W-what do you want?” She ignored his question, too upset to come up with an answer that wouldn’t bring more questions.

He frowned, cocking his head. “You okay?”

“Fine.” She couldn’t do this right now. “Just tired.”
So very tired.
“What’s up?”

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” he said, once he’d joined her.

“If there was something you need, I’m sure Linnet or Nicole could help you.” She’d desperately needed to be alone. Her coveted control was hanging by a thread.

Could Cache have anything to do with the name in the sand? The verse in the mirror. He’d been outside the bathroom.

Calm down. You need to think, not jump to crazy conclusions.

He had a hard enough time navigating the beach with his sore leg. He couldn’t have gotten down the beach and back in time for dinner after their hike. Besides, her cult name had never been released to the press. She’d never told anyone. Not even her family. God knew the members of the Ascension had refused to talk to any outsiders.

Rinka showed up with wood in mouth and Mel grabbed it and gave it another throw, taking a minute to watch her scurry off in a blur of russet and ivory fur.