Escape (22 page)

I was sorry I’d read it. My hands were suddenly tense, my ears ringing with the old hums and dings. In that instant, Walter Burbridge embodied everything I hated about my work. I tried to turn it off, but no matter how loudly I reminded myself that I had three more weeks of leave, I kept hearing Walter’s words.
Break your promise
,
and I may break mine
. The threat was a thundercloud marring the clarity of my blue summer sky.

Desperate to get it out of my head, I took a walk in the woods. There was no fear now. I hadn’t been eaten by a squirrel or attacked by a moose. I hadn’t been ravished by Jude, but by James, who was warm-blooded and real. Knowing that he had walked this path, that we had walked it together, gave it a new feel. Besides, it struck me that if what I had so feared before was the power of the lure, I was already hooked. It was done.

Besides, it was broad daylight. I waded through the ferns and along the old stone wall that was my GPS. And there was a snake. Lying on top in a patch of sun. I hated snakes. In utter revulsion, I stopped.

It was a garter snake. How did I know? Jude. Each time we had come upon one, he had dangled it in front of my face, his manner of teasing—or teaching, which was the interpretation he chose. What I had learned first was not to gag.

I had also learned that garter snakes are harmless, which was why I walked past now, leaving the snake to its rock and my feet to the dirt.
Picking up the trickle of the brook, I followed it in. The air was less humid than it had been, hence that clear blue sky, but I had built up a sweat by the time I reached my coyote—or rather, the spot where I’d seen her last night.

She wasn’t there now. I didn’t have to search the other bank to know. I didn’t sense her, didn’t smell her. As I stood on a small rock, inches from the shallow water, minnows darted by, flashes of silver heading downstream. I knelt to let my hand trail in the cool water, remembering how James and I had bathed here. My eye slid to the tree against which he had propped me that first time, then to the bed of dirt beneath. The pine needles looked rumpled, as a bed sheet might have been. I blushed, smiled as the memory played in my mind, rocked back on my heels.

Then I went still, listening. I wasn’t sure I’d heard anything. She would have moved silently through the woods, any whisper of sounds masked by the gurgling brook. I did smell her now, though, a tiny wild something intermingling with pine. My eyes rose.

She wasn’t at the water’s edge, but a dozen feet in, watching me from atop a boulder. Sitting erect in the dappled sunlight, she was stunning. Her pelt was gray and white, her forelegs as creamy as the pointed muzzle I had spotted last night. Now I saw apricot as well, touching the top of her head, her ear tufts, the upper part of her ruff.

I used to think coyotes were nocturnal, since their howls came at night. Not so, Jude had said. They were around during the day but knew the danger of being seen, so they took care. Darkness was the only time they dared speak aloud without drawing unwanted attention. Flying under the radar was how they survived.

Yet there she was, watching me in full view, trusting that I wouldn’t raise a rifle and shoot. That said, she wasn’t lolling on her back in the sun, but sat with her inordinately large ears pricked. Had I stood, her eyes would have still been higher than mine. But I didn’t stand. She was alert, her nose twitching almost imperceptibly as she sniffed the air.

For a split second, I had the fanciful notion that James had come again. Only James didn’t walk on silent coyote paws. Today I heard no thrashing through the woods behind me.

Before me, though, I caught movement at the base of the boulder on which she sat. I looked down when she did, expecting to see her lunch scamper by. But the creature in action was as roly-poly as my sister’s bichon, if pale gray, and there was not only one but a second then a third and a fourth.

Her pups. I had wanted to think she had brought them to show me, but I guessed that her den was nearby.

Backing up to the fat pine to give them space, I watched the pups tossing something around. Belatedly I realized that I’d been half right. They were playing with a chipmunk, though whether they planned to eat it for lunch, I didn’t know.

The chipmunk escaped, which surprised me. I’d have thought that if the pups didn’t want it, the mom would. But she continued to watch me watch them, her gold eyes filled with pride.

It occurred to me that a coyote was too wild to communicate pride—that I was reading fantasy thoughts into those anchored eyes, that narrow muzzle, those pointy ears, simply because I needed a connection to these woods—that the tears in my eyes were my relating to her and wanting a baby so badly myself. The yearning. Isn’t that what my dream left me with?

In the next breath, I realized that her stare might be a warning.
Take one step toward my pups
, she was saying,
and I’ll attack
.

Moreover, if I
needed
a connection to these woods, I had no idea why.
Wanting
is something else. Wildness in animals is a curious thing to us humans. Isn’t that why people watch Animal Planet?

Escape. Maybe that’s why we watch. Animal behavior is elemental. It takes us back to a simpler time.

So maybe escape is why I’m hooked on these woods, which are the total opposite of where I’ve been, and I don’t only mean New York. Ten years ago, it was New Haven, nowhere near as large as New York, but congested for me, with students milling everywhere, standing
room only in some of my classes, and three roommates crammed into a small apartment, and though I spent most of my nights at James’s place, the city locked us in.

These woods are primal. They are as they were hundreds of years ago and, in that, stable and calm. There is a peace here that I don’t feel elsewhere. I can think clearly here. I can breathe.

I stayed by the tree for a time, watching the coyote pups tumble over each other. Occasionally one spotted me, drawn perhaps by my scent, and held my gaze for a minute before resuming its play—and it did occur to me that, in letting me stand unchallenged, their mother might be teaching them the wrong lesson. Humans were to be feared.

But not me. I swear she knew I wouldn’t hurt her pups. She sensed the protectiveness I felt, perhaps even sensed my envy. I saw four pups. The average female coyote birthed six, though—according to Jude—a single litter could produce eighteen.

Ouch.

I smiled. Four was fine. I’d settle for one. Thinking about that, I felt an ache deep inside.

I didn’t ache for law in quite the same way. I missed the intellectual challenge. I missed the emotional satisfaction of helping someone who couldn’t help himself. But it wasn’t like wanting a baby. And it wasn’t like missing James.

Hey
,
Walter
, I typed when I returned to the inn.
I’m sorry. Next week is out. I’m healing
,
but it’s a process. Thanks for your patience
.

I sent the e-mail and walked away from Vicki’s computer.

Chapter 14
 

James e-mailed me late Saturday night.

You’re right
, he wrote.
My first thought was that you’re thinking of practicing up there
,
but if you say you’re not
,
I’ll take you for your word. Sounds like your friend has a mess of a life. Hah. Sounds familiar. You’re right about investigators. She needs to ID the tail so that you can find out who hired him. Yes re: the forensic accountant. Yes re: her need for Boston counsel. Conflict of interest could be a problem. She can’t use anyone remotely connected to the firm that handles the trust fund. Give me her name and the name of the family corporation
,
and I’ll run it by Sean. If his firm clears
,
he may be willing to help. What kind of cookies does she bake?

When I asked Lee early Sunday morning, she said her last name was Baker.

A baker named Baker? I knew an alias when I heard one.

I explained about lawyer-client confidentiality and assured her of James’s sensitivity to the danger she faced, but having felt powerless for so long, she was skittish. She had run away to hide, and yes, she’d been found out. But with each additional person who knew, the greater her chance of being carted away. Having been in prison once, she went pale at the thought of it happening again—and, honestly, I
couldn’t guarantee that once her husband’s family realized that she planned to fight, they wouldn’t go on the offensive. Would they want the publicity, knowing the charges were trumped up? If they were arrogant enough they would. The best I could do was promise she wouldn’t be alone.

It took some convincing, but she finally gave in. Lee Cray. Husband Jack, and brothers-in-law Raymond and Duane. All beneficiaries of the Cray Family Trust.

Pleased with this little win, I shot the information she gave me back to James, ending with
Oatmeal raisin and chocolate chip
,
but the chocolate macadamia nut ones are the best
.

Chocolate macadamia nut cookies were his favorite.

Amelia came for brunch dragging Jude, who looked like he had just rolled out of bed. He hadn’t shaved, hadn’t combed his hair.

He looked amazing.

Like Brett Favre looked amazing.

But I didn’t want to sleep with Brett Favre any more than I wanted to sleep with Jude Bell, though he kept staring at me like I should—like I had to remember what it was like waking up with him sexy and hard, like I should be jealous of his woman in Hanover and needed to restake my claim.

I did not. Having just heard from James, I was immune.

Lee sat with us. Her muddy hair still slanted over her forehead, but with the sides and back now shaped to complement her face, I realized that she was an attractive woman.

Amelia’s first line of defense, and rightly so, was protecting Lee. In addition to the car on the green, she’d had new locks installed on Lee’s windows and doors, she explained with some pride.

“That’s good,” I said encouragingly. “Now we need to build a case. Do the police have anything—pictures, fingerprints, footprints?”

“They have the notes that were put in her mail slot, and they do have pictures of the matter left on her stoop.”

“It’s called dog shit,” Jude said with a smirk.

Amelia smiled. “Not at breakfast it isn’t.”

“Have they done anything with them?” I asked, ignoring Jude, who continued to stare at me.

“There’s not much they can do other than keep them on file,” Amelia reasoned, but she was a take-charge sort and moved right on. “What do we need?”

“Pictures catching someone in the act. Lee should have a camera to use anytime she sees strangers around, but we also need a motion-activated video cam on the roof of the house. It may get pictures of deer or moose, but one shot of a man doing something unwanted and we’re in luck.”

“I’ll have them mounted today, front and back,” Amelia promised. “I understand your husband was here?”

“Yes. Just a quick visit.”

“I’d like to meet him next time.”

“So would I,” remarked Jude.

I’ll bet you would
, I thought. I could see him clapping James on the back and talking man-to-man about sex with me. Vicki was right. I did need to tell James myself that Jude was back—had to explain my feelings, past and present. It would be a preemptory move, because somehow, somewhere, he would learn about Jude, and it would be best coming from me.

“But I can’t do it in an e-mail,” I said the minute Vicki and I were alone.

“On the phone, then?”

“Not good.”

“But you have to do it soon. I saw how Jude was looking at you. He is spoiling for a fight.”

“Why with
me
?”

“Because you’re not falling all over him. What if
he
phones James? It’s almost worth a trip back to New York to tell him.”

“I can’t.”

“Not even a quick one? Like his visit here?”

It sounded simple—drive in, tell James about Jude, make love to show him that
he
was the one I loved, drive out.

And I did consider it as I helped Vicki clear the buffet in the parlor. But I was afraid that if I went back I wouldn’t be able to leave—that James wouldn’t
let
me leave once he knew about Jude, that I would be numbed again by my life there and unable to think until the next perfect storm made me crack. It also occurred to me that the lovemaking could bomb if it was manipulative, in which case I would have risked the most elemental connection James and I had.