Hidden Pearl (26 page)

"Hmmm, that's strange," Soul said, looking again at S.T.

S.T. rose. "I can't blame you for this. I should've called like you said. I had business down state and just thought I’d kill two birds with one stone—so to speak." He reached out his hand, assisting Christine to her feet.

"Oh," she said, "I almost forgot my camera. Where is it?"  She saw Soul consider, almost guessed he was trying to come up with an excuse to avoid handing over the camera, but in the end, he reached into a cupboard, pulled it out and handed it to her.

"Can I come back on Wednesday?" she asked, with no intention of doing so as she put the bag's strap over her shoulder. "I can bring the proofs, take more photographs if that's needed.

"Of course," Soul said, his tone uneasy. He obviously didn't much like not being the one to call the shots, but he was in the corner for once. If he still hoped to convince S.T.  and maybe her to become his disciples, he couldn't be too forceful at this point. She could see the moment his smile loosened and he decided to allow them to depart without further argument.

It was only when they were in the Silverado, and turning onto the main road, that Christine breathed a sigh of relief. "Don't relax too soon," S.T.  said, pushing his foot down on the gas pedal.

"Why? What happened?" Then she knew. "Where is George?"

S.T.'s grin was wolfish, his Navajo heritage showed through stronger than she'd ever seen it. "Tied up."

"You... don't mean literally."

He lifted his eyebrows, never taking his eyes from the road as he increased their speed. "Don't I?"

"What happened?"

"He came across me waiting by the Silverado. He didn’t seem to buy my explanation.” He shrugged. “When Soul comes across him, he's going to be the one with questions for once."

Christine sucked in a breath. How had S.T. managed such a calm demeanor, betraying nothing to Soul or her?  She bit her lip, not wanting to think about the uneasiness she suddenly felt. "What did you find out from his computer?"

"Nothing, except that the codes are more complex than Jerry had hoped."

"So this was all for nothing."

Again that brash smile. "No, it just means we have to work for what we get."

"Explain that."

"The computer and some extra flash drives are in the back of the Silverado."

Her eyes widened and mouth gaped open. "You took them. Why didn’t he instantly know that?"

"I had brought a computer with me. When he opens it, it’ll be one of those dread black screens. I am not sure how long it’ll take him to realize. We will have some time now.”

"What if he goes to the police?"

"He won't. George wasn't hurt, other than his dignity, and Soul doesn't want the authorities involved anymore than we do. For all he knows all we are covering up is an affair."

She looked over to see his expression but there was no clue from his hard profile. She sat back in her seat. "So where do we go?"

"Back-up plan, Robin," he said, giving her a quick smile. "I made arrangements to use the Baileys' cabin in the mountains. Hopefully that'll give us time to get past the code and find out what we have."

"While Soul looks for us."

"I would expect that. I could take you to Hank's first. I don't see how they could know about him. You'd be safer there than with me."

"We're in this together."

He glanced over at her. "It could prove dangerous."

Christine stood on the deck looking down at the Umpqua River which seemingly flowed under the cabin. The river sounds were soothing, would have been joyful if she'd been here in any other situation. In the three days since she and S.T. had arrived, she'd taken photographs of everything, grateful to have her favorite camera back in her hands. She had undeveloped rolls filled with shots of the river rapids, of the cedar-shake cabin, of birds attacking the fresh seed she'd put out, of a squirrel that attempted to raid the bird feeders, and several rolls just of S.T. --bent over the computer, stretching to work the kinks out of his back, doing push-ups, giving her a disgusted look, standing by the river. Despite a few grimaces, she figured he was getting used to having a camera click whenever he did something photogenic which, considering the man's natural grace and structural beauty, was almost every time he moved.

The vacation home was not only picturesque but had something almost spiritual about the way it had been placed in the midst of huge boulders which likely had come to their resting place millenniums ago. Its interior was spacious, simple with large windows on one side to view the cedar and fir forest, and glass doors on the other that led to the deck.

A deep pool not far down river would have been a temptation on a warmer day, but as Christine looked toward it, she shivered. The weather in this mountainous terrain, even in this season, was anything but warm. Her heart felt even colder as she thought about the man who was probably even now searching for S.T. and her.

Not having thought as far ahead as S.T. in terms of packing clothing, Christine wore one his flannel shirts, oversized on her slimmer frame, but comfortable and cleaner than her own which she'd washed and hung to dry on the deck overlooking the river.

Fortunately the Baileys' cabin had been well stocked with basic food items. Adding to it the things S.T. had brought, Christine had enough to fix interesting meals and enjoy herself in the modern kitchen while S.T. wrestled with the computer. Listening to him groan and grouch about the modern devices while he was foiled again and again at getting past the codes, she was glad she could escape into the more known world of putting together certain ingredients with a reasonable expectation of tasty results.

She was beginning to wonder if they would be able to get anything worthwhile after all the risk. She kept expecting Soul to drive up the narrow lane with those men S.T. had described as goons. She found it difficult to think of the whole seeming misadventure in any sort of positive way. What if they discovered nothing?

S.T. came up behind her, his arms going around her waist, pulling her against his hard frame. He bent his head to breathe deeply of her hair. "You smell like sunshine," he said.

"And what does sunshine smell like?"

"Like you."

"How is the computer espionage going?"

He grunted and moved away from her to lean against the railing and look down at the river. "I think it's going to take a computer genius, which I am not, to figure out what to do next."

"We could call Jerry."

He shook his head. "Ignoring the fact that the cabin doesn't have a phone, and cell phone coverage doesn’t seem to work out here, I am hesitant to show up at his house just in case they have figured out your local connections. I don’t know how good they are at this game and don’t want to find out the hard way. Let's go for a walk. Maybe fresh air will help me figure out what I'm missing."

"I'd like that. Can we go downstream? I'd like to get a better look at that pool."

"You thinking of going for a swim?" he asked as they walked down the steps leading to the river trail.

"I didn't bring a suit."

"That's never stopped me."

She sucked in a breath at the tempting image that brought to mind. S.T., his black hair hanging loose, balanced on a big rock, then diving into the river, nothing but brown skin between him and the elements. She cleared her throat. “I suppose a camera would be unwelcome.” He just gave her a look and she smiled. “Just kidding.” They both knew she wasn’t.

"What do we do if we can't get into the files?" she asked, trying to distract herself from what she really wanted, as she followed the path he forged along the river.

"We will."

"But if we don't."

He turned and grinned at her. "Build up my confidence, woman. Tell me how we'll find everything we want."

"I want to believe that, but I'm afraid."

He stopped and took her into his arms, the strength of his body against hers reassuring. Then she thought how easily a small bullet could put an end to that muscular body, take away the reality she held, and she shivered.

"What's wrong? Don't you trust me to take care of you?" he asked, his mouth against her hair.

"I trust you. It's just--"

"I know. You're afraid," he said, pushing her away a little so that their gazes met. His eyes were dark, the expression in them serious. "It's going to be okay."

"How can you know?" She felt irritated with herself that she was the one needing to be bolstered, the one who didn't have enough faith. She had been in tough situations before. She hadn’t had so much to lose though.

"I feel it in my bones," he said, smiling. "Is that good enough for you?"

She made a face. “How reliable have your bones proven to be in the past?”

He grinned and shrugged. “Fifty-fifty.”

They began walking again. She kept her eyes on his broad shoulders, his narrow-hipped walk until she tripped, only saving herself from a fall by a clumsy maneuver that kept her on her feet, but reminded her to watch the trail.

"Where are we going?" she asked as they passed the beautiful pool.

"A special place," he said, taking her hand to help her over a tumble of boulders. A few minutes later, he stopped and pointed to the other side of the river. Mossy covered, fern laden, sheer cliffs and in the center water fell fifty feet to a wide pool below.

"Beautiful," she said, resisting the temptation to suggest she go back for her camera.

A few hundred feet farther, he took her hand and led her up to an overhang, a sort of natural cave. He pointed to the back, and she saw the etchings carved into the rock. "What is it?"

He shook his head. "Your guess is as good as mine. I've always figured it was petroglyphs by the first people here."

"Indians?"

"Uh huh, but it'd probably take an archaeologist to know for sure."

She studied the designs, a man with a bow, several animal-like shapes, maybe goats, then another human shape, rounded in the center. "What do you think it all represents?"

"An expert would probably say it was some religious or sacred symbol carved by a shaman, but my gut feeling is some guy carved it for his woman, promising her all he'd do for her if she'd take him on."

She looked more closely at the rounded shape. "He was pretty confident, wasn't he?" Running her fingers along the carving, she felt the indentation and a strange sort of connection with the human who had carved it hundreds, maybe thousands of years ago. "This is wonderful," she said, sinking onto a flat rock and looking up at S.T.  standing above her. "It's like stepping back in time."

"Look at the ceiling above you."

She did and saw the blackened surface. "Smoke?" she asked.

"Maybe they camped here year after year. Maybe only at special times."

He watched as she ran her fingers over the rough rock on which she sat. "So they might have sat here just like we are now." She looked up, her smile enough to bring him to his knees, literally and figuratively.

"He probably promised her a lot of things he shouldn't have," he said, an ironic note under-lacing his words.

"Maybe she was the one," she disagreed. "Telling him she'd always understand, then turning around and forgetting it all with their next argument."