Whispers in the Dark (6 page)

I hadn’t meant to be insulting, but before I could explain, the song on the radio stopped, and a man’s voice said, “And now for a special news update. We reported this morning that a small plane was seen flying low across the desert last night. Police say they’ve found no sign of a crash, as was feared.”

Sean reached out as if to change the station, but I caught his arm. “Wait a minute, I saw a small plane yesterday, flying really low. Maybe someone reported it.”

The announcer said, “Rumor has it that the plane may have been smuggling—”

“Which way was it headed?” Sean asked.

“Uh, east—no, northeast, I guess. The plane came toward the canyon and then turned and went alongside it.”

“There’s nothing much out that way. Probably a coincidence, and you saw a private pilot on a cross-country trip.”

“I suppose.” I tried to listen to the newscast while we talked but only caught a few words about investigations of a drug ring. It seemed strange that a drug ring would center here, practically in the middle of nowhere, but the announcer said something about an access point to Denver and Albuquerque. They were hours away, but obviously it wouldn’t be as easy to land a plane secretly near a big city.

“Did you see the call letters on the plane?” Sean asked.

“The what?”

“Planes have to have identifying letters and numbers on the body.”

I closed my eyes and tried to picture the plane. “I don’t remember anything. It was probably too far to see it.”

“Nothing much you can do about it, then, even if it was the same plane.” Sean switched the radio off. “It’s too good a day for bad news. Tell me about life in Boston. Do you have a… significant other?”

I kept my eyes on the road. “No. Not anymore. I mean, not right now.”

“Good.” Sean settled back in his seat and smiled.

I smiled back. So what if my face felt a little stiff? I didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to do. And I had plenty of time to decide on that.

A few minutes later, Sean said, “That’s the town up ahead.”

I could only see a few bumps on the horizon, but they did turn into a town, or at least a cluster of buildings. The diner sat on the main road with a big sign out front.

“The best place in town to eat,” Sean said. “Okay, the only place. But it is good.”

We went in and found a booth. The decor was nothing special—plastic checkered tablecloths, hard benches, and a few posters on the wall. “No menus,” Sean said. “Just what they have on the board.”

A chalkboard behind the counter listed red chile, green chile, and Indian tacos.

“Quite a selection,” I said. “What’s the difference between the red and green chile? And if you say color, I’ll throw this hot sauce at you.”

Sean grinned. “Green chiles turn red as they ripen. The green is usually hotter. Better stick with red if you’re new to this; it’s enough to burn the lining off your mouth. And chile really is just chile peppers, cooked with some onions and garlic, but no beans or meat unless you ask for it. The Indian tacos are fry bread with chile on top and beans or meat if you want. I recommend them.”

A plump, middle-aged waitress came over. I ordered Indian tacos with red chile. Sean had the same. The food came out five minutes later, and I took a tentative bite.

I made a whimper of pain and breathed out around the scalding food in my mouth. When it finally cooled enough to chew, a different type of burning started.

I swallowed, took a deep drink, and then demanded, “This is the less hot one? Are you playing a trick on me?”

“No, I swear!” Sean was laughing. “The green is even worse. But this is an especially hot year. Can you stand it?”

“I guess so. The flavor’s good, at least what I can taste with my tongue throbbing.”

“Better have a beer.” Sean waved to the waitress. “That helps kill the burn.”

I managed to eat the fry bread once I’d scraped half the chile off of it. After lunch we wandered the town and stopped at the general store. I grabbed the opportunity to get some ice for my cooler and a few perishable foods. When we got back in the car, I was surprised to see the clock on the dash reading three o’clock. Good thing I’d gotten a lot done that morning.

“You look serious,” Sean said. “Anything wrong?”

“No. I was just deciding that I might as well blow off the rest of the day now.”

“That’s the spirit! Care for that hike?”

“Sure, why not? I haven’t done the full trail yet. It’s what, four or five miles?”

“I’ll try to keep up,” he said. “I don’t suppose you could carry me back if I don’t make it.”

“I wouldn’t try. But I might report it to the rangers. Eventually.”

Sean laughed. “I’d better stick it out, then. Good thing I have a couple of water bottles in the car. I’ll need to refill them, though.”

“The campground has a pump.” I wanted to avoid the visitors center. Danesh didn’t need to know I was slacking off so much, especially after I refused to hike with him.

We stopped at the campground for water and then started the long walk around the canyon. Sean seemed to know everything about the region. He identified plants and birds, pointed out a snake basking in the sun, and told me about the nearby towns. I began to suspect that he knew plenty about the Ancestral Pueblo People, too. His morning request for a “guide” had obviously been a ruse, which made me smile. I wasn’t used to men jumping so quickly on the chance to get to know me. They must be desperate for women around there.

We paused to catch our breath and take a drink. “You’ve been here your whole life?” I asked.

“Yep. Right here in this very spot.” We looked around at the sagebrush and sand and laughed. “No, really, I was born in Blanding, but I went to college in Denver, and I’ve traveled a bit. Mexico, Guatemala, Belize—great scuba diving there. But this is home. I know it here, really know it, and there’s something comforting about that.”

I nodded. “It feels like you could know this land in a way you can’t ever know a city like Boston, even if you know every street. Maybe because things change too fast in the city, but not here.”

Sean chuckled. “No, here it takes decades just to get a road paved. But you’re right, that’s part of the charm.”

We finished the loop near the ruin called Falling House, the one on an outcropping split off from the canyon rim by a five-foot gap. “Are you going to do any work here?” Sean asked.

“At this building?” I gazed at the walls across the gap. “No. It’s great, I’d love to study it, but my work will be in the storehouses.”

“They’re easier to get to, anyway. Here you’d have to climb up the cliffs.”

“Or build a bridge.” I smiled at Sean. It was nice to spend time with a guy who was smart, easy-going, and funny. I was glad I’d taken the chance. Maybe I wasn’t quite as scarred as I had feared. Maybe I was even ready to move forward. I wondered what the future would hold and felt a tingle of anticipation.

Chapter 7

We neared the trail to the campground. Sean cleared his throat and gestured to a bench. “Care to sit for a minute?”

I nodded. We sat and gazed out over the canyon—the shadow-filled crevasse, the silhouettes of ruins scattered along the path, and the distant mesas turning rosy in the evening sun.

“Are you finding anything to do in the evenings?” Sean asked.

“I’ve only had one. But I’m looking forward to watching the sunsets and seeing the ruins by moonlight.” I grinned. “Maybe keeping an eye out for ghosts or aliens.”

Sean frowned. “Be careful at night. You should stay away from the canyon after dark.”

Geez, they acted like the place really was full of ghosts or aliens or archaeologist-eating monsters.

Sean took my hand. I studied the scenery and focused on breathing.

“Kylie....”

I turned and gazed into his intense green eyes. He brushed my cheek lightly with his free hand. Then he leaned in and kissed me.

Maybe he sensed my tension; he started slow. I tried to stop thinking and enjoy the sensation of warm lips on mine. He stroked a hand up my back and feathered kisses over my cheek and neck. I felt myself relax, like slipping into a warm bath, and when his mouth came back to mine, I met him eagerly. The kiss set off a kind of trembling I hadn’t felt in months—a good kind.

When he eased back I let out a long sigh. I could enjoy this again. That was good to know.

Sean said, “Damn. I wish I didn’t have to go.”

“You need to leave?” Disappointment warred with relief.

“Afraid so. I have to be somewhere tonight and I’m already running late. You’re too damn tempting.” He gave me another gentle kiss. “I’ll see you soon?”

“I hope so.”

“I can’t tomorrow. Maybe Thursday. You have a phone?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t get reception very well out here, and I’m keeping it off so I don’t have to worry about charging so often.” I thought of the visitors center, but I didn’t want romantic messages left there. “You can text me, though. I’ll try to check messages a couple of times a day.”

“Tell you what,” he said. “You get some work done tomorrow. We’ll go out Thursday, about five. I’ll buy you a good meal and we can see a movie. And... maybe I shouldn’t suggest this. I don’t want you to take it wrong, but if you’re ready for a hot shower, we can stop by my apartment first thing.” He grinned. “Purely a selfless and generous offer, I promise.”

“You mean you want a clean date. That is tempting.” I decided not to commit to the shower until I’d had time to consider. “Okay, we’ll call it a provisional plan. Text me if anything changes.”

He programmed my number into his phone. “Shall I escort you back to the campground?”

“No, I’ll sit here a few more minutes. But thanks.”

“You’re not planning to do any work tonight, I hope?”

“No. I just don’t feel like heading back yet.” And I didn’t want a romantic goodbye in front of the camp host, a known gossip.

He stood and laid a hand on my shoulder. “Just stay out of the canyon at night. You could stumble on a snake or scorpion, slip on a rock and break your ankle....”

I sighed. “I know. I’ll be careful.”

“I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself. But the dangers here are different from in the city, and I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

I smiled up at him. “I’ll just stay here five minutes and then go back to my campsite. Lunch is wearing off anyway.”

He cupped my cheek in his hand. “All right. I’ll see you soon.”

After he left, I stared at the scenery and tried to make sense of my feelings. I wouldn’t fool myself into thinking this was some big love affair, but I’d had a good time, and I hadn’t humiliated myself by having hysterics when he kissed me. I was proving something to myself.

I frowned. Was I using Sean? What if he took this more seriously than I did?

I shrugged. You couldn’t plan a relationship from the first date. Maybe my feelings would change. Maybe he didn’t expect anything more than a few casual dates. Of course, men almost always did expect—or at least want—sex even if their emotions were casual. I couldn’t even blame them, since it was a biological urge. Well, if Sean wanted sex right away, I’d tell him what had happened to me. He’d either slow down or disappear entirely. Problem solved.

I closed my eyes and tipped my head back. A bird chirped and rustled in the trees and then went silent. The air lay warm and heavy. The whole canyon seemed still, waiting.

It should have been relaxing, but I felt a prickle on the back of my neck. I shivered and opened my eyes, glancing around quickly. No one in sight. So why did I have the sudden feeling I was being watched?

Nerves. I sighed. I still couldn’t tell the difference between solid warning instincts and unreasonable panic. Regardless, the peaceful mood had been broken. I jumped when something shook the bushes nearby. Time to head back to my campsite, where I had privacy within shouting distance of people.

I was halfway to the campground when I heard a low rumble. I paused, senses on alert. Then I blew out a breath and relaxed. Since when did I jump at a car engine starting—a sound I wouldn’t even notice in the city? The sound softened to a steady hum and faded as the car moved away. I realized I hadn’t heard Sean’s vehicle earlier, so that was probably him. He must have stopped at the campground restroom or something.

As I turned down the path to the campground, my stomach grumbled, and I debated the ease of granola bars and fruit versus the satisfaction of a hot meal. I decided I might as well set up my camp stove. I’d be camping for weeks, and woman could not survive on snack food alone, so I might as well start a good habit.

The smell of grilled meat drifted past me. I inhaled deeply and my stomach growled louder. I spotted the old couple at the host site. The man stood over a raised metal grill as the woman came out of the camper with a pack of buns and an armload of condiments. She waved the hand with the buns and called out. “You made it back!”

“I sure did.” I had to smile. She talked like I’d been on a dangerous cross-country trek.

She dropped her food on the table and came toward me, holding out her hand. “We didn’t meet properly before. Lily West.” The name Lily didn’t fit her low, gravelly voice, mannish haircut, and square jaw. I wondered whether she had been slim and graceful in her youth. “That’s my husband, Robert,” she added. He raised his tongs in salute.