Three Weeks Last Spring (13 page)

Walker’s sugges
tion that he stay
with
her
for the rest of her holiday, took
Skye
comple
tely by surprise, and while she woul
d have happily kept to her part of their
bargain
and spent a whole day in his company, this was so much better.
As a consequence, she smiled more often in the following three days than she had in
months
.
There was laughter in her voice, and her eyes shone with happiness.
Finally, it seemed the sadness of the previous twelve months was behind her and her life was back on track.
Not even the unpredictable weather dampen
ed
her spirits.

They became inseparable, spending every moment together.
As if by some tacit agreement, neither spoke of their lives at home or their careers, in case they should remind themselves that the clock was slowly ticking the hours away to the time when they
knew Skye would have to leave.

Skye found Walker a knowledgeable and amusing guide.
When they visited the historical site at the north of the island, he told her how the English and the Americans had gone to war over a pig.
At first she’d thought he was making it up, and it was only when she read the fr
ee handout
that
she believe
d
him
.

When the weather cleared in the afternoons, as it often did in the Pacific Northwest,
they went sailing
.
They
woul
d drop anchor
in one of the
coves
around the island
, have lunch and a bottle of wine
or sail round to Lime Kiln Lighthouse,
where Walker told her about the pods of Orcas, pointing out individuals by name
.

Their evenings were spent talking, listening to music
,
and enjoying each other's company.
If the weather was fine
they
strolled along the beach hand in hand, stopping every now and ag
ain to kiss under the stars, or sat
on the deck
and
watch
ed
the clouds cast shadows on the moon.
And later, after turning out the lights, they
lay
wrapped in each other's arms in a hot tangle of sheets, the raw passion of their lovemaking lifting them both higher and higher
until their bodies were spent.

But
then
Walker's cell phon
e rang and shattered the dream.

Skye had finished loading the dishwasher when the first call came through.
Walker went into the bedroom, half closing the door behind him to take it.
Following that initial call he made
several
of his own and although she tried hard not to listen, Skye heard him barking out instructions to a nameless individual on the other end of the line.
Her face clouded with uneasiness
. S
h
e turne
d and star
ed out of the window
.

Walker wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tight.
Her hair smelt faintly of apples, reminding him of the shower they
ha
d shared that morning.
Damn it!
He didn't want to leave her, not now when they were getting on so well, but he knew he had to.
The call had seen to that.
If he was lucky, he could clear up the mess that was waiting for him in Seattle and
return
in a few days, but how could he explain his sudden departure without feeling like
the biggest jerk on the planet?

"Skye, honey," he said softly.

Skye kept her back to him.
She didn't want him to see the tears that threatened to fall.
She bit down hard on her lip, regained control of her emotions,
before
facing him
. She
rest
ed
her head on his shoulder.
The sadness she felt was all too evident in her pale blue eyes
as she lifted her face to his.

Walker suddenly looked tired.
She could see the anxiety in
his face, and wondered why she had
never noticed the dark shadows beneath his eyes before.
The phone call
obviously worried him.
She touched a fingertip
to
his lips as if to silence him before he
said
the words she knew in
her heart he was about to say.

"I know you have to go and its okay, really it is."
But it wasn't
in
the least.
She wanted to scream out loud and tell him a dozen reasons why he should stay, but she couldn't.
She tried
to make it easier for him
by smiling
, but failed miserably.
When Walker
started
to spe
ak, she silenced him once more.

"Honestly, its fine.
I'm fine.
I understand, really, I do."
But the old sensation of distrust had returned and there was a feeling of sourness in her stomach.
Suddenly her life was taking on an all too familiar pattern.

Walker took one look at her face and felt he'd been kicked in the guts for the second time that night.
Talk about bad timing.
If the call had been about an environmental disaster in some far-flung corner of the world he
would
have
sen
t
someone else
, but he couldn't.
He had no choice.
This was too personal.
The silence between them lengthened.
H
e struggled to find the words to explain why suddenly he had to leave.

"I'm sorry, but it's business.
It's not something I can ignore.
It's something I have to attend to personally.
Hopefully, it won't take too long.
I'll be back before you know it and we can
pick
up where we left off.
In the meantime, keep smiling for me.
I'll call you from the office.
You'll be here, won't you?"

He looked down at her pale face, and felt guilty for causing her pain, but there was nothing he could do.
He tightened his arms around her waist.
His voice was filled with anguish.

"You do believe me, don't you?"
He kissed her hard
, gently strok
ing
her cheek, h
is own expression grim
.

Skye managed a s
mall tentative smile and nodded, un
sure how to respond.
The wound that had taken so long to heal was sliced open again.
The last thing she wanted was for Walker to see how badly she was affected by his imminent departure and tried hard to keep her
feelings under tight restraint.

The door to the cabin closed with a
soft
thud.
Skye listened as Walker dr
o
ve away before finally giving
in
and silen
tly allowing her tears to fall.

She told herself she could handle this.
She was being stupid to feel this way.
She wasn't a teenager
anymore
but a grown woman.
But it didn't help.
She knew
what
she was getting into when she
welcomed Walker into her arms and into her bed.
But that didn't help either.

Walker hadn't made her any promises and she hadn't asked for any.
Nevertheless, her soul was being ripped in two.
She wiped away her tears.
All she could think about was how she
woul
d feel when she had to return home.
But she already knew.
Of course she did—the same as now, only ten times worse, bereft, empty, and desolate—and a hundred and o
ne other adjectives in between.

When the time came to board that plane to London, Skye knew it would be the hardest thing she
woul
d ever do.
By then Walker might say he loved her, but past experience taught her that they were just words men said in the heat of the moment.
They car
ried no weight, had no meaning.

Michael had taught her that.

Michael,
who had
once held her heart, but who
ha
d hurt her so badly that she believed she
woul
d never love again.
But now, when she was finally beginning to think that love was something that didn't just exist in fairy stories, history was repeat
ing
itself.
Another American held her heart in his hands, albeit in a different time and place.
The only distinction being, on this occasion it was Walker who
ha
d walked out the door w
ithout saying goodbye, not her.

Apart from the fire crackling in the grate, the room was oddly quiet
.
S
kye
stared out of the window into early
the
evening gloom, so deep in thought that she didn't
see
the wind whipping the waves into a white frothed frenzy.
Her mind was in overdrive finding reasons and excuses for Walker's sudden departure.
None of the answers satisfied her and, too late she
realize
d
, he'd
left
without leavi
ng his cell phone number.

Wretched and frustrated, all she could do was wait and be patient and hope that he
woul
d keep his
promise
.
Patience
,
the one virtue she needed the most and the one she possessed very little of.
She tried not to feel anxious.
Her
vacation
wasn’t over yet, and Walker surely would r
eturn before she left for home.

***

Walker drove back to the lodge with total disregard for the island's speed limit.
His truck bounced over every rut and pothole in the road, sending pain jarring through his spine.
It only served to remind him just how damned stupid he'd been to think he could work and play at the same time.
He
'd learnt that lesson years ago when
a
series of relationships failed because of his constant travel
l
ing.
But no, he'd stupidly allowed himself to become tangled up with a sassy auburn-haired beauty from across the pond.

His temper rose with every mile and more than once he pounded his fist on the dashboard of his truck.
He blamed himself for becoming distracted.
He shouldn't have spent time with Skye.
He should have waited until the
investigation
was
over
before getting acquainted with her.
But then
, he was
so sure that there was a link between
her
and the attacks on his company that getting to know her had seemed like a good idea.
Hell, it had been—it was.

She was everything he wanted in his woman and more besides.
Intelligent, funny, and so passionate
,
that a man could drown in her.
But he had to admit his timing stank.
It wasn't her fault.
He should have known better.
H
e should learn to trust his instincts.
The blame for this fiasco rested squarely at his door.
His cell phone rang again.
He snatched it from his shirt pocket and hissed out a gruff ‘hello.’

"
Mr.
Walker?"

"Yeah.
Who's this?"

"It's the night security guard from your building."

"What can I do for you?"

"I've just finished my round
and I found the door to your offices ajar.
Usually someone lets me know if they’re working late, but I figured they just plain forgot.
Anyway, I opened the door thinking I would have a look around just to make sure, you know.
I
t looks as if you've been burgled.
There are papers everywhere, desks overturned; the place is in a right mess.
I've called the cops, but I thought you ought to know."

Walker's temper flared from simmering to white-hot anger for the fifth time that night
.
H
e silently asked himself what else could go wrong.
He raked his hand through his hair, and wondered which God he had angered this time to be thrown yet another curve ball.

"Thanks for letting me know.
I
’m
on my way back to Seattle.
I'll get someone to meet the police and make a preliminary assessment of what's m
issing."

The
near
er Walker got to the lodge, the
angrier he became
.
The truck skidded to a halt and he killed the engine.
He let himself in, hit the light switch, and picked up the phone on his way to
the
study.
Punching a pre-stored number, he paced the floor
while
waiting for the call to connect.
He’d been totally irresponsible
,
there was no other explanation for it.
He wouldn't blame McCabe if he hung his ass out to dry.
He
had done the one thing he
always promised himself he would
never
do
;
relax
on the assumption that the
illegal
dumping and atta
cks on his company had stopped.

But he'd been wrong, very wrong.

His lips thinned into a hard line as he wondered why it was taking so long for someone to answer the phone.
It was supposed to be manned twenty-four hours a day, for God's sake.
He disconnected the call in disgust, and punched in the numbers for the laboratory instead.
Someo
ne answered immediately.

"Have the cops arriv
ed yet?
Is there much damage?"

"Yeah, the cops are crawling all over the place like a rash.
As for damage, it's real ha
rd to tell what's here and what i
s missing.
Someone
made a thorough job of
tras
hing the place, that's for sure."

Walker ran a hand through his hair.
"
What about the equipment, the microscopes and the slide
drawer, are they intact?
"

"The 'scopes have been thrown off the benches, so who knows.
The slides are everywhere underfoot and the chemicals cupboard is completely empty.
I keep on yelling at the cops to watch where they walk, but those guys take no notice of me.
I guess the answer is that until we get the worst of the mess cleared up and check the records, assuming the computers still work, we'll never know."

Walker sighed.
"We still keep
a
paper record of the contents of the slide drawer though, don't we?"

"Until tonight we did—depends if it's s
till here under all this mess."

"Do what you can.
I'm arranging extra security.
When they arrive, go home.
There'll be enough to sort out in the morning."

Walker leaned back in the large leather chair and stared out of the study window.
Normally he found the room a comfortable place in which to sit.
But toni
ght his world was coming apart.

Not only was someone out to ruin him,
but
he
’
d
left
the one woman who stirred him in ways he hadn't believed possible.
It would serve him right if Skye didn't trust him.
He hadn't given her a plausible explanation for his sudden departure other than to say that it was business.
How many men
used that excuse when they
walked out the door never to return?
He felt like a first class jerk, and there was nothing he could do about it.

The sadness in h
er eyes had cut him to the core.
His hand hovered over the telephone on his desk.
Was it too late to call or would it sound as if he were making some feeble excuse
and simply make matters worse?

If Skye
could
see the expression on his face at that moment, she would have
recognized
it as one of despair.
Frowning in exasperation, he decided to leave things as they stood.
There’d be time for explanations later.
For the moment he had enough to worry about and his love life wasn't on
top of his list of priorities.

Both his Seattle office and the laboratory to the south of the city had been broken into that evening.
Luckily no one had been hurt.
Instinct told him these were no random acts of vandalism.
His company had been specifically targeted, but by whom?
He had no doubts as to why.

This was all connected with the illegal dumping of chemical waste and the large quantity of dead fish washing up in the San Juans
,
that much he was sure of.
But why trash his office and the labs?
Unless of course, someone thought he was getting close to identifying them.

The grandfather clock in the corner of his study struck the hour.
Walker
realize
d
he'd spent far longer at the lodge than he’d planned.
He doubted that anything would be achieved by flying over to Seattle tonight, but he decided to make the journey anyway.
If the
howling
wind
were
any indication, it would be a bumpy ride.
But he'd flown in worse.

Two hours later he walked into the shambles that once had been his office. The security guard hadn't lied.
The cops were already trawling over the
debris;
busy checking for fingerprints as they went, but Walker sensed it would take days rather than hours to shift through the chaos and assess what, if anything, was missing.
No cash was kept on the premises, so the usual suspects of drug addicts looking for a means of funding their next fix could be excluded.
This was a professional job; that much was apparent even to his untrained eye.

Whole filing cabinets were upended, their contents strewn across the floor.
Not even his executive suite had escaped.
The large expensive mahogany desk was totally ruined.
C
omputers were smashed to pieces.
If the backup disks were missing too, then data from every project his company had been
involved in
was
destroyed.

Equipment could easily be replaced, but the data had taken years to collect and the information was invaluable.
Walker Environmental Research had built a
record
of every business in the USA and some in other parts of the world that disposed of toxic waste by illegal means.
Thankfully, the majority of the reports he'd prepared over the years were a matter of public record, and the data f
rom those could be reassembled.

He had a hunch
that all the information from this current
investigation would be missing.