Stranger in Paradise (9 page)

She felt the heat of his breath as a deep chuckle sounded near her ear, and then he removed his hands.

“Hey, don’t stop yet. It was just getting good.” She opened her eyes and twisted around in her chair to look at Zack.

There was no one there.

She heard a sound and looked to see Zack coming across the beach, flashlight in hand. He must have gone inside first—

Kacey pushed to her feet and raced into Zack’s arms. “He was here,” she whispered, pressing her cheek against his chest.

“What? Who?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her.

“
Him
.” Her body was shaking, her teeth chattering when she tried to speak. “I-I was sitting over there. I thought it was you… that you came over and started massaging my shoulders. I had my eyes closed. Oh, my God, I think I’m going to be sick.”

His arms tightened around her. “All right. You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re okay.”

“B-but he was here. He touched me.”

“Come on, let’s get inside. The police are on their way. Apparently there was a match to the pair of sneakers Andrew kept in the staff locker room.”

She pressed close as they walked up the short hill back to the cabin. “Are they sure, Zack? Absolutely sure?”

Once inside, he wrapped the afghan around her.

“Sit down and I’ll make you some tea,” he said heating up her K-cup coffee maker.

Kacey curled her legs under her as she sat on the end of the couch. The warmth of the cabin and the afghan helped ease her nerves. She accepted the steaming mug from him.

“I’m going to take a look outside. If anyone is still out there, it’ll be that much less work for the police to do when they get here.”

She nearly dropped the mug in her lap, trying to reach for him. “No, please, Zack, stay here. What if something happens to you? What if you get hurt?”

He pulled his gun from the back of his jeans where he’d hidden it beneath his jacket. “No one is going to hurt me. I checked the house when I got the flashlight. You lock the door behind me.”

She shook her head; her pleas for him to change his mind fell on deaf ears. “Zack, please, let’s just wait for--”

The air raid siren went off in his pocket and Kacey closed her eyes in silent gratitude.

“Yes, sir, I understand.”

She watched him pace, nodding periodically as he listened to the caller.

“Okay, I’ll tell her. She’ll be relieved to know. We both are. Thanks.” He disconnected and let out a sigh of relief. “Sounds like they caught our guy.”

“You mean Andrew?”

He sat beside her, drawing her to his side, holding her close. She welcomed the unexpected intimacy.

“They found him walking across the parking lot, coming from this direction.” He leaned his chin on the top of her head. “They’ll be taking him in for questioning, first locally, and then it’s likely he’ll be extradited to Illinois on other charges of cyber-stalking.”

She put her mug down and faced Zack. “Is it weird that I feel a little sorry for him? He’s so young.” She shook her head. “I guess I should be happier. It’s over.” She looked at him. “I guess that means your work here is done.”

He cupped her face, softly touching his lips to hers. “Not quite.”

She knew much later, as she lay in his arms listening to his steady breathing as he slept, that she’d wake up alone. There’d been no words spoken as he took her hand and led her to bed. No promises made as they undressed each other and took the time to explore, to touch one last time, to be one. She closed her eyes, knowing she would hold this night in her heart for the rest of her life.

Chapter Eight

With Andrew booked on suspicion, Zack realized that his work was done and Kacey’s was about to begin in earnest. He wasn’t the type for messy goodbyes. That’s why he’d left her early, before she woke up. God, she was beautiful. And he kicked himself a thousand times since starting the ignition that he hadn’t told her how he felt. He rubbed his hand over his chest, trying to loosen the tight feeling that he was walking away from something good. But he had to face reality. She needed to get on with her life, which was back in Chicago. His life was back on the force where he could pretend that he enjoyed coming home to a silent apartment with a brick wall view and cold pizza every night. Shit.

He took in the rows of tall pine along the river road, giving way periodically to the spectacular view of the lake. It was calm, its glassy surface reflecting the cool late summer morning. True, there’d never been any promises made. They’d been thrown together by strange circumstances, and he knew too well how gratitude could easily turn into infatuation. It’d happened to him on more than one occasion—close quarters, dangerous situations, only once pacifying the suffering housewife who found out that her husband had cheated on her. That ended poorly after the two reconciled and she politely thanked him for his services.

Still, he couldn’t shake the foreboding sense of loss when he’d closed the door this morning and walked across the mist-covered parking lot.

He swiped his hand over his mouth and rested his elbow on the window as he tried to turn his mind elsewhere. Lamenting like a schoolboy wasn’t serving to improve his mood. He glanced up as he passed by the sign for Betsy’s Pies and his memory leapt to the night he’d arrived and the mess of pie there’d been on the floor. One thought led to another and he saw the two of them in the glow of candlelight after making love, feeding pie to each other while still naked in bed. He cringed at the pain in his gut and lower still, remembering the softness of her fingers curled against the small of his back….

Zack took a deep breath and eyed the lake, considering the idea that he should dive in just to clear his senses. This moon dogging about a woman he barely knew was insane. What did he think? That a woman who took trips to Europe in the name of research would have anything at all in common with a gumshoe detective. He squinted at the winding road and clicked off a number of reasons why it’d never work.

First, she was bossy and not just a little, but in that “I am woman, hear me roar” kind of way. That would drive him nuts in less than a month, maybe less. She was a proverbial rabbit when it came to food. He liked big, stick-to-your-rib meals. She liked wine, for God’s sake—over beer? Come on. And she liked chick flicks, where he needed fast-paced action films to entertain him. When he thought about it, just what the hell did they have in common, except that she enjoyed walking along the beach lost in her thoughts and he enjoyed watching her?  Hell, he enjoyed watching her do damn near anything. Like the way her eyes lit up when the idea for a scene popped into her head, or how she seemed fearless in the face of danger and genuinely concerned when she’d smacked him with that driftwood club.

He was pretty sure that was an accident.

He loved seeing her hunched over her computer the morning after they’d had the most mind-blowing sex ever. Her coffee within reach, the afghan wrapped around her shoulders, her feet tucked into those ridiculous wolf bedroom slippers. God, he hadn’t laughed so hard in years, felt as comfortable with someone, being so relaxed and… happy.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, but it wouldn’t let go, not entirely. Most women couldn’t stand the stress of being in a relationship with a detective. Relationship? His brain did an immediate halt. What the hell? Less than a couple of weeks and a roll or two in the sack does not a relationship make.

Does it?

Zack wiped his hand over his face. This was crazy. He pulled into the rental parking lot, grabbed his bag, and forced his thoughts on catching his flight as he hurried down the seemingly mile-long trek to the rental counter. The area was virtually empty except for a balding man at the only counter. Zack dropped the keys on the counter and fished the hardcover book from the backpack he used as a carry-on. “Hey, listen, a friend of mine asked if I’d drop off this book for Cliff. Said it was for his wife. Is he still around?”

The bespectacled clerk glanced up, his blue-eyed gaze clearly puzzled. “That’s funny,” he said, tapping his finger on the cover. “That’s his wife’s name, too, and I understand she’s a writer as well.”

Zack’s stomach knotted. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah. Talked about her all the time. She stops here same time every year, rents a car, then heads up to the Superior lodge where he says she likes to hole up and write.”

Alarms went off in Zack’s head as he attempted to remain calm. “I thought Ms. Winters lived in New York.”

“Oh, yeah, they have an apartment there, too. You know how celebs are these days. Always wondered why Cliff stayed here, but he said since this is where they met, she wanted him to stay.” He leaned forward and spoke quietly. “He says it’s a game they play, pretending they don’t know each other.” He straightened. “Guess being a friend, you know all about what kind of books she writes.”

Zack nodded. “Uh, yeah. So where’d you say Cliff was again?”

The man shrugged. “Guess he took a day or two off to spend some time up at the cabin. He does that from time to time, but he really tries to respect her writing time.” He reached behind the counter and pulled up a framed photo. Indeed, there was Kacey standing beside a man at Split Rock Lighthouse. He looked closer, seeing the professional detail to the Photoshop skills.
Jesus
.

He grabbed his keys. “I’m going to need another day. And you think Cliff has gone to the cabin?”

“Yeah, he said she’d emailed him last night and asked him to come up. We weren’t very busy today--”

Zack barely heard the man finish as he bolted down the hall. He called the chief as he hurried to the car.

“Riley,” he spoke winded into the phone. He’d run the length of the concourse to get back to the car, only to have to engage in a verbal scuffle with the attendant explaining the need for the car on police matters. “That Andrew kid, he’s not our guy. The suspect is one Cliff Bartholomew. He works at the airport rental agency and has everyone there believing that Kacey is his wife. Even to the point of supposed weekend outings with her. One of the clerks showed me a picture where he’d photo-shopped himself into a picture next to Kacey. I don’t even want to know how the hell he got that close.”

“You’re sure about this, Zack?”

“I’m on my way back up there. The guy said that Cliff had gotten an email asking him to come up for a couple of days.”

“I’ll call Duluth authorities for back-up. Be careful, Zack. This guy’s been living a delusional lifestyle for quite a while, it seems. That, and his obsession with the victim is a dangerous combination.”

“She’s not a vic, Riley, but the guy’s definitely a looneytoon. Kacey has been renting cars from this place the whole time. He’d have total access to her private information—emails, phone, addresses—everything.”

“Christ.”

“I’m going to call the lodge and alert them to the situation.”

“Good, and I’m catching the next flight. Be there as soon as I can. I’ll let the Duluth guys know you’re in charge. They don’t do anything without your say.”

Zack disconnected and spoke the lodge’s number into his Bluetooth. After a couple of rings, a pleasant voice answered.

“Great Lakes Superior Lodge, may I help you?”

“Hazel?”

There was a momentary pause, then a hesitant response. “Yes, this is she. May I help you?”

“This is Zack Elliot. You remember, the one staying with Ms Winters?”

“Oh, yes, of course, Zack. Ms. Winters was in this noon for lunch.”

“Alone?”

“Why, yes, she mentioned that you’d gone back to your life in Chicago and she had to get on with hers. I believe those were her exact words.” She waited a heartbeat. “Not that I’m one to pry, but it seemed like you two seemed to hit it off, if you’re asking my opinion.”

Zack pressed his lips tight. He couldn’t let his emotions—however confusing about Kacey they might be—get in the way of the matter at hand. He had to think like this Cliff character… what would he do? Would he skulk in the woods till dark, or would he be waiting in the cabin, hiding somewhere until she was more vulnerable? Either scenario made his blood curdle. “Hazel. Listen, what time did she leave?”

“Oh, I don’t know. She was here, maybe an hour. Sauntered around in the gift shop. I didn’t see exactly when she left. Is everything all right? Did you two have some kind of fight?”

“No, nothing like that, but I do need your help. I need you to get word to your manager that no staff is to go near Ms. Winters’ cabin—not for any reason.”

“Is she in trouble, Mr. Elliot?”

“Let’s hope for the best. I’m on my way back. Duluth authorities have been notified. They’re on their way. Can you possibly try ringing me through to Ms. Winters’ house?”

“Yes, sir. There is one thing--I hadn’t thought much about it until now. I did notice her talking to a man. It seemed as though they knew each other, but as I said, I was called away from the desk and didn’t see her leave.”

“Okay, thank you. You’ve been very helpful. If you should happen to see Ms. Winters before I reach her, will you tell her I’m on my way back?”

“Certainly, Mr. Elliot. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to send one of our staff down to check on her?”

Zack didn’t need to have anyone setting off alarms or possibly getting hurt. “Let’s just sit tight until I get there. No sense in stirring up confusion if there isn’t a real concern.”

“Very well. Please hold. I’ll connect you to her house.”

Zack eyed the road, his heart tight in his chest as he waited through several rings. It’s possible she was working and refused to answer the phone. He waited out two more rings, frustrated that the woman hadn’t gotten at least an answering machine. Finally, he hung up and, gripping the wheel, pressed his foot on the gas.

***

Kacey sat motionless. She’d been listening to the angry man’s rant for more than an hour. She’d recognized Cliff Bartholomew in the gift shop, surprised to see him there, and had joked that she’d just sent a book with her friend to drop off for him at the airport. He’d followed her out, chatting amiably that he was parked just outside, and that he often came up to the shop to buy unique gifts for his niece who lived in L.A. That’s when she felt a poke in her side. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and told her he’d shoot her if she didn’t do exactly as she was told.

She shifted in the chair where he’d ordered her to sit. Tucked in the corner of the living room, Kacey watched him rummage through the kitchen cabinets and drawers, tossing things on the counter. He was clearly nervous. Possibly on something, but she wasn’t about to make any brave moves until she was sure she’d come out the victor. So she’d been sitting quietly, listening to him explain how he’d always been her greatest fan. How he’d bought every one of her books, “full price,” he’d added, in hardback, audio, and then in paper when it released. He’d even built a special room with ceiling-to-floor bookcases, one wall devoted to her press releases and appearances. And a year ago he’d asked her for an autograph, he reminded her. “But you didn’t have time. You were in such a high and mighty hurry,” he growled, standing over her brandishing his gun.

“But I did, I do remember. I was probably under a lot of pressure with a deadline. I’m terribly sorry.” He didn’t know just how much.

“Or meeting someone else.” His gaze narrowed and she noted his jaw twitch under the strain. “Yeah, probably meeting him up here like some tramp. You should have known. You should have known.” He pressed his fists against his temples, anguish etched on his face.

Kacey searched her mind, trying to find a way to get him to put down the gun and talk. “I’m sorry, what is it I should have known? Tell me what I missed?”

He straightened, his expression sobering, and then madness washed over his features. He stared at her as though she had two heads. “What, you ask? You don’t know?” His voice was tinged with panic.

She held up her hands and attempted to calm him. “You’re right, absolutely. How could I have been so stupid?”

He nodded and dropped the gun to his side.

Kacey forced a smile past her fear. “Maybe we could start over. You know, a clean slate. Only this time you can tell me how I can treat you better. I’m sure it would improve my writing to have your help, your understanding.”

His gaze held hers. So forlorn and lost. He shook his head. “I’ve always supported you.”

Leaning forward, she inched her hand toward his. Maybe he’d relinquish the gun to her if she could just convince him to talk. “I know, and I’m so sorry I didn’t pay close enough attention to you.” She swallowed hard as she began to ease from the chair. “Why don’t you put the gun down so we can talk as friends… good friends.”

His gaze snapped to hers, his eyes blazing. “You whore! You lyin’ whore! You think I’m stupid? You think I don’t know what’s going on up here every summer? I’ve stood outside that window every night, watching you flirt with the guys who work here.”