EDGE (30 page)

Mel staggered over to the row of broccoli, grabbed a plant, and yanked it free of the fertile soil, and then another and another. Until every last head was wrenched out by the roots. The stench of broccoli saturated the air. She dropped to her knees and hugged her arms around her middle. Then she threw up until nothing was left inside her.

Rinka found her, pushing her muzzle under Mel’s chin with a worried whine. Mel wrapped her arms around her and buried her face in Rinka’s soft fur.

He’d befriended her dog.

Probably feed her, played with her. That was why Rinka hadn’t raised an alarm. Mel couldn’t blame her. Rinka was constantly being introduced to new people. She was more of an alarm for dangerous animals than strange people.

Mel lifted her head, her eyes wet.

Was he watching her now?

She scanned the hillside choked with trees and willows, then what she could see of the beach. Everything seemed the same.

Safe.

She was anything but safe.

No way would she become a victim again. Not by Jed or by Cache. She stifled a sob.

Cache had taken her picture.

Mel stumbled back to the lodge. The lights were still on in the great room so she snuck toward the back of the log building. She found Linnet’s window cracked open. She lifted it, climbed in, and made her way across the room to the door. She peeked out. People were still talking in the great room. She heard her name.

It was already starting. The whispers, the pointing, the judging.

“We have to find her. Protect her.” Mel heard Cache say. He sounded almost desperate.

Right. More likely worried about his precious story.

“Don’t worry about Mel,” Linnet was saying, “she can damn well take care of herself.” Good for her. At least Linnet was standing up for her. Oh God, now Linnet would know all about her horrible past. The repercussions of this night kept falling like boulders preceding a landslide.

At least with Cache still in the great room, he wouldn’t be in his.

She made quick work sneaking into his room and finding his film and memory sticks for his digital camera. The man was organized, making it easy for her. She tore the pillowcase off the pillow, filled it with the canisters of undeveloped film, and threw in the small case of memory sticks. She remembered, at the last minute, to pull out the memory stick in the digital camera, and grabbing his other camera, ripped out the film, exposing it to the light. She left the exposed roll curled like a ribbon on his bed, wishing she could see his face when he entered the room to find that he didn’t have one shot of her for his story. She might not be able to stop him from writing about her, but she’d put a stop to any photographs accompanying the piece.

For good measure, she checked his closet and dresser. Nothing of interest there. She opened the drawer to the nightstand and found his journal. It was probably what he’d been using to write down his story. She took that, too, adding it to the growing pillowcase.

After checking the other nightstand and finding nothing but a few murder mysteries, and a package of condoms, she glanced around the room, deciding she’d retrieved what mattered and left. The voices were still going at it in the great room. She ignored them.

Once in her room, she threw a few clothes into a backpack and added the pillowcase. Then she made her way outside the same way she’d come in, through Linnet’s window.

After a quick sneak into the kitchen to raid the pantry, she double-back around the lodge to the gear room and exchanged her shoes for hip waders, stowing the shoes in her backpack. Then she rapped on the bunkhouse door. There was a long pause and then a muffled, “Come in.”

Sergei had turned on a light and lay in bed, and it was evident by his blurry eyes, she’d awakened him.

“Sorry, I woke you, but I need you to do something for me first thing in the morning.” She filled him in on what had transpired between Emily and Tom, leaving out the real identities of Cache and Tom and why they were there. “I want you to take them to Homer tomorrow. They can find their way to Anchorage on their own from there.”

“But—”

“I want them off The Edge.” She hiked her backpack higher on her shoulder. “I’ll be gone a few days. Help Linnet hold down the fort until I get back. Keep your eye out for that…poacher. Arm yourself against him.” Mel made to leave and then turned back. “Oh, and tell Linnet not to worry.”

“Mel, vait—”

She hurried down the beach to the skiff line where she pulled the plane in from where it was moored safely out in deep water.

She waded out into the ocean, untied the plane and gave it a push to have it floating into deeper water, and hefted herself onto the pontoon. Opening the door, she threw in her backpack and hiked onto the seat. A few flicked switches and a twist of the ignition had the prop turning and the engine sputtering to life. She thought she heard her name hollered over the sound of the engine.

Unable to help herself, Mel looked back toward the lodge, and saw Cache splashing into the surf, trying to reach the pontoon.

Why couldn’t things have been different? Why did he have to be who he was? With a burst of the throttle, the plane drifted freely into darker waters.

More throttle and the plane skimmed over the cove. She brought it up on-step and built her speed, and tried to forget all she was leaving behind as she concentrated on getting the plane into the air. As her speed increased, she pulled back on the yoke and within seconds, she was soaring into the dawning midnight sky.

C
HAPTER
N
INETEEN

Now is the end come upon thee, and I will send mine anger upon thee, and will judge thee according to thy ways, and will recompense upon thee all thine abominations.

~EZEKIEL 7:3

“
Fuck.
” Cache slapped at the ice-cold, waist-deep water, and watched Mel’s plane soar completely out of his reach. As seconds ticked by, the smaller the plane became, until he could no longer see it in the dusky darkness of the night sky.

He turned and struggled out of the freezing ocean to find Sergei waiting on shore, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, the tails of his flannel shirt flapping in the light breeze.

“It takes much to run Mel off.” Sergei indicated the disappearing plane and then glanced at Cache. “I have orders to take you and Tom out of here come morning.”

Cache reached the beach and suppressed a shiver as the breeze caught and sank like talons into his wet skin. He headed for the lodge. The wet fabric of his pants made sucking sounds as they smacked together. Sergei fell into step beside him.

“Tom will be packed and waiting whenever you’re ready to leave,” Cache said. No way was he leaving this place without talking to Mel and making her understand.

Damn it, he loved her.
He wasn’t losing her now because he’d been such an ass. He knew she cared for him. She might not have taken that leap off the edge and fallen all the way into love, but he knew she was flirting with jumping.

“I am supposed to take you both,” Sergei said.

“I’m paid up until the end of July.”

“I have been told to bring in troopers if you don’t go villingly.”

“You have the law on your side in regards to Tom. But me—” he looked Sergei dead in the eye “—I’m staying.”

“Mel vill not like it.” Sergei shook his head.

“Then she’ll have to come back here and handle it. Nobody’s getting me off The Edge until I talk with her.”

They’d reached the lodge, and Cache left Sergei standing there. He entered the kitchen to find Linnet and Nicole sitting at the table having coffee and deep conversation. Tom had probably been sent to pack his bags and Emily off to her bed.

“She got off okay then?” Linnet asked, taking in Cache’s wet clothes. The corner of her mouth angled up. “This really isn’t the time for a swim.”

He ignored the taunt. “Where’s she headed?”

“Hard to say. It’s a big state.” Linnet shrugged and raised her cup to her lips, taking a sip. “She’ll come home when she wants to.”

“She’ll be okay, won’t she?” Nicole asked, a worried frown marring her brow.

“Not many who can take care of themselves like Mel,” Linnet reassured Nicole and turned back to Cache. “You going to pack your bags?”

“Not until I talk to her,” he said.

“Don’t you think you’ve put her through enough?” Nicole asked. “Do you really need to do another story on her?”

“This isn’t about the story. Just so you know, if I don’t tell it, someone else will.” Cache thought of Tom and knew that given the chance, he’d be printing some unflattering drivel about Mel and The Edge, especially since he would be forcefully removed come morning.

“Would that someone else play with her affections?” Nicole set her cup down like a gavel and rose to her feet. “Sleep with her to get it?”

Cache sucked in a breath and let it out in rush. “I did not sleep with Mel to get her story.” He turned and ran a hand through his hair. Damn, this was fucked up. He turned back and faced the two women. He’d rather be looking down the barrel of a firing squad.

“Well,” Linnet said with a glint of plotting in her eye. “As I see it, you’re paid up until the end of July. I could return your money, but if you don’t want a refund, I guess I’ll have no other recourse except to let you stay.”

“But—” Nicole tried to interrupt.

Linnet gave a crafty smile. “That is until Mel returns, she might have other ideas.”

“Thank you,” Cache said, grateful, for whatever reason Linnet seemed willing to let what was between Mel and him play out.

Nicole narrowed her eyes. “I don’t like it, and Mel is going to be furious when she gets back.” Then her voice hardened to ice. “Tom, he leaves first thing in the morning.”

“I’ll make sure of it.” Cache nodded and then said goodnight.

He had to get out of his wet clothes and into a hot shower. He couldn’t remember a time he’d been this cold.

Inside or out.

He entered his room and came to stop. His drawers were pulled out with clothes hanging over the edges. The closet door was ajar with its contents spread out on the floor. On the bed were his cameras. He rushed to check them over.

She’d taken his film and memory sticks. He searched his camera bags and found them empty too. Then he noticed the open drawer to his night table.

And she had his journal.

Shit.

Mel balanced on the rear of the pontoon as she tied the tail of the plane to a birch hanging over the waters of Loony Lake. The only whisper of sound was the sloshing of ripples fading as disturbance of her landing washed against the banks of the hollowed shoreline. The pungent smell of lowbush cranberries and thick water vegetation hung heavy in the air.

She’d found this lake by luck years ago when she’d been socked in by weather and had been forced to put down until it passed. Now she came here frequently as the unspoiled splendor rejuvenated her. She was counting on its magic working again.

Mel grabbed her backpack and the survival gear she always carried in the plane, and made her way to the clearing, concentrating on nothing but setting up camp. She was numb to thinking. Just like the gear she carried, her agenda was to survive.

The pup tent went up, and she unfurled her bedroll. After a deep walk into the trees, she secured her cache of food in a bag, and strung it up a tree to safeguard it from bears. Then she walked back to camp.

Sitting on the edge of the bedroll, she took off her waders, left them outside the tent, zipped it closed, and crawled into her sleeping bag, fully dressed. She double-checked her .357 to make sure it was loaded, even though she knew it was, and laid it next to her. She pulled the sleeping bag to her chin and stared at the yellow nylon ceiling.

All this time, she’d thought she was going crazy. She didn’t know if it was a relief to know that she wasn’t or not. A little cuckoo would be easier to deal with than the truth that now stared her in the face.

Jed Jr. had been watching her all this time.

His
was the face she’d seen through her window, written the bible verse in the mirror while she’d showered. The nine AnnaMarias scored in the sand. Hell, the bible on Nicole’s coffee table. All of it had been Jed. The missing food, the strung up trumpeter swan.