On Deadly Ground (9 page)

Rachel hesitated as she approached the women’s clothing department. “Do you mind if I grab a few more things? I won’t be long.”

“No problem,” he said. “Take your time. If it’s all right with you, afterward I have a quick stop to make. Do you like Mexican food?”

An hour later at the camp store, they filled up on fajitas and honey-dipped sopapillas, then Jake helped her put her new “bedroom” together. Images floated through his mind as he inflated her air mattress, and every one of them gave him a bad feeling. He pictured her having microwave popcorn for breakfast—saw her with a flashlight in her hand trying to read at night. And he imagined her picking up her inflatable bed and jamming it into a corner when she woke up before she could open for her guests. His total dislike of the situation made it impossible to keep his mouth shut.

“You should stay at Jenna’s until you absolutely have to be here,” he said as they walked to the door and he prepared to follow her back to Charity. “You’re not going to be comfortable. You need to reconsider.”

“Jacob,” she said evenly, “let’s not do this again.”

Jacob?
“What am I doing?”

“You know what you’re doing. I’m a big girl. I’ll be thirty-three in a few days, and I survived on my own for two years before you got here. So don’t get bossy with me.”

Jake hid a scowl. If he said he wasn’t “getting bossy” she’d argue that he was. And if he admitted to being bossy for a good reason, he’d end up telling her it wasn’t safe for her to be here—with the same result. He looked around—saw a smoke detector above the small galley area and another one above the door to the game room. The best he could do was change the subject. “When’s your birthday?”

“Next Wednesday. Why?”

“Because I’d like to make dinner for you.”

“Wrong. You want to hover.”

He smiled. “Okay, I want to hover. But I also like to make a mess in the kitchen occasionally, and I rarely do that for myself. Do you like lasagna? I’m not a great cook, but my mom’s Italian so there was never a shortage of red sauce at our house.” He waited for her to say something. When she didn’t, he tried to sweeten the pot. “I make it with Italian sausage and fresh tomatoes. It’s pretty good.”

She smiled finally. “Okay. Thank you. I’d like that.”

No time like the present to push a little harder for safety. “Now can I say something else without making you mad?”

She rested her hand on the doorknob. “Depends on what it is.”

“If you’re intent on sleeping here—living here—I want you to keep Maggie for a while.” He nearly fell over when she didn’t give him an argument.

“Thank you. I will. Whether you believe this or not, I do have enough sense to be afraid.” She took her hand off the knob for a moment. “Can I say something to you now? And will you give it some thought before you tell me it’s not plausible?”

Jake nodded. “Go ahead.”

“I honestly can’t think of anyone who might want to hurt me—and I’ve given it a lot of consideration. So I keep thinking that the man who set the fire might not have meant to kill me. Maybe he counted on my having smoke and heat detectors—like nearly everyone else in the country.”

“And if you’re right, that means you’re safe, and you’re worrying for nothing.”

“Yes.”

Jake stepped closer to her and opened the door, felt the cool night air hit his face. Now
he
was worried. Make that
more
worried. “Don’t get complacent,” he said, ushering her out. “That’s not a good idea.”

Twenty minutes later, Jake followed Rachel’s Explorer up the slight knoll to the Blackberry, then pulled in beside her to say good-night. She’d insisted that she didn’t need an escort, so he told her he wouldn’t follow her—then did. He couldn’t help himself. Maybe she was entertaining the idea that she might not be at risk, but he wasn’t letting his guard down until Perris or the state guys arrested somebody.

Shutting off her headlights, Rachel walked around her car to his open window. At the well-lit side entrance, a tall, slender woman wearing a floppy hat was tapping her code into the keypad outside. Now that Jenna was open for business again, her security system was constantly on for the safety of her guests. The heavy wood-and-etched glass front door was locked up tight.

“I thought you weren’t going to follow me,” Rachel said, failing to hide the amusement in her voice.

Crickets chirped nearby, and from somewhere down the street, a woman called hollowly to someone named Helen and said to travel safely. Jake got out of his truck. “I didn’t. Turns out we were both headed for the same place.”

“Liar.”

“No, liars are bad people. I’m more of a fibber because I had your best interests at heart.” Or maybe it was
his
best interests he was more concerned about tonight. The moon was high, the night air felt good, and
he didn’t want to go home. Maggie didn’t kiss the way Rachel did. And in the part of his mind that insisted on total honesty—the part that missed and craved human touch—he admitted that he’d been thinking all night about kissing her. Jake looked into her eyes and saw her strength and vulnerability, saw her hurt and her resilience, saw her soft, soft lips.

“You were saying?” she prompted with a little hitch in her voice.

Yes, he was certain he’d said something, but right now, he couldn’t remember what it was. He let a breath out slowly and wondered about that little break in her voice and the fact that she didn’t step back from him. Was that a signal? Did David Patterson’s wife want him to kiss her again? And would she kiss him back?

Only one way to find out, that voice in his head said.

Jake agreed.

Easing away from the truck’s door, he slid his hand into the soft hair at her nape, then nudged her forward and lowered his mouth to hers. He tasted her sweetness and her warmth, and for several long moments, their lips clung, both of them savoring the contact, savoring the closeness. Until a car’s headlights lit their faces and Rachel sprang back. Jake squinted into the high beams, wondering why the idiot driver behind the wheel didn’t dim his lights. Then the driver didn’t just dim them, she parked her sleek black Corvette and got out, her long blond hair shining in the glow of the lamplights.

Unbelievable, he thought, feeling a nerve work in his jaw. First she shows up in Charity without an invitation, now this. “What are you doing here, Heather?”

Rachel took another step away from him, her retreat feeling a lot more distant than it was.

His ex smiled brightly. “I was coming back from your place when I saw all the lights on at the inn and decided to ask Ms. Harper to put me on a waiting list. I’m just not happy at the travel lodge.” She rolled her eyes. “You saw what the room looked like. Anyway, you weren’t home, so I looked around and found Maggie in her pen. I loved her up for a while. She hasn’t forgotten me.”

Who could? Custer could forget the Little Big Horn before he forgot Heather. And which one of his “friends” thought giving her his address was a good idea? Lowering his voice, he turned to Rachel.

“I’ll see you inside?”

“No,” she replied demurely. “It’s late. We can talk tomorrow. Good night, Jake.”

Before he could reply and Rachel could get away, Heather strode forward to clasp her hand, thin bracelets tinkling at the edge of her snug, long-sleeved black knit top. “Apparently Jake doesn’t want to introduce us,” she said with a smile, “so I’ll do it. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Heather. Jake and I were engaged for a while.”

“And then we weren’t,” Jake cut in.

Softening her voice, Heather looked up at him. “I need to talk to you. I know you’re still angry, but it’s important. Is there somewhere we can go? You’ll want to hear what I have to say.”

He seriously doubted that, but Rachel was already striding toward that side entrance, and he didn’t want to make her any more uncomfortable by calling her back. “Just spit it out,” he said. “What do you want to tell me?”

*  *  *

Rachel stood in the front doorway peering through the etched glass, far enough away that she couldn’t be seen from the parking lot. She couldn’t breathe. Heather Quinn was the most strikingly beautiful woman she’d ever seen, with skin like honey and luminous blond hair that had probably never seen a split end. Her clingy black knit top and snug, dark jeans were obviously expensive—as were her gold bracelets and hoop earrings. Rachel swallowed, acutely aware of her lackluster yellow T-shirt, department store jeans and the no-fuss shag her hairstylist had assured her was trendy-chic.

She released a ragged sigh. Outside, the Jake-and-Heather drama was unfolding under the lights, with Heather gradually moving closer to him. She reached up to touch his face.

Rachel glanced away, feeling like a voyeur, feeling like a fool. Only minutes ago, he’d kissed her, and she’d kissed him back, wanting it to last until the sun rose. And now … Slowly, she hazarded another look through the glass.

Both vehicles were leaving the driveway, their red brake lights glowing as they paused at the bottom of the incline. Two sets of left-turn signals flashed. Then Jake followed Heather’s Corvette toward the travel lodge … and Rachel’s heart sank.

R
achel stepped outside the Blackberry at six-twenty the next morning, thoroughly unsettled, her mind running rampant with images of Heather and Jake. Was he with her now? Sharing a bagel? Taking Maggie for a walk on the country road she and Jake usually walked? Talking things through and finding their way back to each other?

A lump rose in her throat, and for what had to be the fortieth time, she told herself that what he did was his own business. Still, he deserved better than a woman who’d betrayed his trust and left him so jaded that he’d completely closed himself off to future relationships.

She would have climbed inside her Explorer and driven straight out of the driveway if he hadn’t called to her from two vehicles away.

Forcing a smile, she turned around and watched him walk toward her. He wore jeans and a black T-shirt that hugged his shoulders—and he didn’t appear to be in a good mood.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Good morning,” he repeated. “I’m sorry about last night.”

Which part? she wanted to ask. Their kiss? Heather’s
arrival? Or what happened after he and Heather left the Blackberry together? “No problem,” she replied, keeping things light as she opened her car door. She tossed her purse and the bag of pastries Jenna had given her on the passenger’s seat, then stood beside the car’s open doorway. “Heather’s very beautiful.”

“Heather’s a lot of things,” he said, then changed the subject. “I figured you’d be heading to the campground early with Tim and his crew coming back today. But I’d hoped you’d be leaving with someone.”

“Jenna has guests,” she said, sorting through her key ring. “She can’t leave whenever she feels like it.”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment, then he sighed. “You’re annoyed with me.”

“No,” she said quickly lifting her gaze. Apparently her acting skills needed work. “No, I’m not.” She was just concerned that he was about to make a mistake he’d regret for the rest of his life. At least that’s what she told herself. But she could hardly share that with him because—

Yes, I know, a voice weary of repetition whispered. What Jake does is Jake’s business.

“All right, if you’re not annoyed, then why are you being so distant?”

Rachel felt the tightness in her chest ease a little with the honest concern she saw in his dark eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be. I’m just in a hurry to get to the campground to see how things went last night. And I’m tired. I’m still not sleeping well.”

“Considering everything you’re dealing with, that’s no surprise.”

And now she could add Jake’s emotional well-being to the list.

He held her car door open and nodded for her to get inside. “Hop in. I’ll follow you.”

“You don’t have to. It’s broad daylight. No one’s going to bother me.”

“Probably not, but humor me.”

“What about your work?”

“If someone calls while I’m out, the number for the regional office is on my machine. They’ll contact me. Today I just need to be available.”

Interesting word, Rachel thought, that lump back in her throat as she started her car and backed out of her parking space.
Was
he available? And what was Heather doing this morning while Jake played bodyguard? She wasn’t the type to sit alone in her room. She was too confident, too vibrant, and if Rachel’s intuition was working even a little bit … too determined to get Jake back.

When they got to the campground, Wes Atkins was pulling away in his SUV, while Joe Reston watched from cabin three’s small porch. Joe had a foam cup of coffee in his hand, courtesy of the small coffeemaker and condiments Rachel had put in the cabin yesterday. He walked out to meet them as she and Jake left their respective vehicles.

“Wes said the night went smoothly—no problems to report.”

“Thank heaven,” Rachel said. “You’re his replacement?”

“Yeah. Roy’s kid had an orthodontist appointment this morning, so he’ll take over at three. We really appreciate your letting us set our own hours.”

He glanced at Jake, and Rachel could see there was
no love lost there. “You come up with a way to keep the elk out of my hay field yet?”

Jake didn’t reply. There was no way to keep eight-hundred-pound elk out of farmers’ open fields and orchards. They roamed where they pleased.

Reston nodded. “That’s what I thought.” He shifted his attention back to Rachel. “I’ll just finish my coffee, gas up the golf cart and take a ride. Anything else you’d like me to do? Feels like I’m getting paid for sightseeing.”

“No, just be a presence. But thanks for offering.” The man had a problem with fidelity, but he wasn’t afraid of work. “See you later,” she said as he waved and ambled toward the golf cart.

She turned to Jake and mustered a smile. “Well, Joe’s here, so if there’s something you need to do—”

His brow furrowed. “I’ve already told you I’m not busy. Do you want me to leave?”

“I want you to do what you need to do,” she said honestly—whether that was work for the commission, or spending time with Heather.

“Rachel, my laptop’s in my truck, my paperwork for the week is nearly finished and your campground has Wi-Fi if I need to send it. But it’s not important that I do it right this minute. Now what can I do to lighten your load?”

They turned as engine and heavy equipment sounds carried to them from the highway. A moment later, brawny Tim Decker and his crew came down the driveway rumbling and clanking their way toward the construction site.

Tim waved to her from the long flatbed truck
carrying the bulldozer, and she waved back, praying that nothing would stand in the way of their putting in a full day’s work. The clock was ticking toward opening day.

She turned back to Jake. “What can you do to lighten my load?” Smiling again, she handed the pastry bag to him. “You can belly up to my lunch counter while I make coffee to go with these. They’re cranberry-apple muffins. Jenna insisted that I take a dozen to share with the men, and you just happen to be a man.” A tall, ruggedly good-looking man who’d become far too important to her.

They were enjoying a second cup of coffee when the roar of construction machinery ceased and a bevy of excited shouts shattered the morning calm. Exchanging a startled look, they leaped from their stools and pushed through the screen door.

Please,
Rachel prayed as they raced down the driveway to the trampled grass near the site.
Please don’t let anyone be hurt.
She could see Tim now, standing silently with his men, their expressions dour.

Tim’s uneasy gaze met hers as they approached, and he exhaled raggedly. “Sorry, Rachel. Looks like we’re shut down again.” Then he stepped back to give her a clear view of the chewed-up ground and sod … and the hairs at the back of Rachel’s neck stood on end.

Directly in front of the dozer blade was a scattered human skeleton, its skull lolling at a sickening angle some distance from the body. Rachel drew a steadying breath. There appeared to be a bullet hole above the left eye socket.

“Dear God,” Rachel whispered, a chill running through her.

Jake spoke quietly from behind her. “Better call Perris. I think we know what your prowler was looking for now.”

Jake hung back several yards while Chief Lon Perris stood at the edge of the crime scene conferring with two state police officers. Nearby, new-hire, Patrolman Call Drago, took photographs and the county coroner unzipped a body bag. There’d been no wallet, I.D. or jewelry with the remains, but pieces of ragged clothing had been recovered along with a plastic beer chip from a tavern in the next county. Luckily, the dental work seemed to be in good-enough shape to quickly identify the victim if he was local. Charity had only two dentists. Jake had overheard the coroner say he suspected that the body had been in the ground for four or five years, but that was only his best guess.

Perris said something to the staties, then walked over to where Jake and Rachel stood. “Let’s go somewhere and talk, shall we, Mrs. Patterson?” He glanced up at the sky. “Preferably out of the sun.”

“Of course,” she replied. She sent Jake an entreating look. “Coming with me?”

He nodded. You bet he was. He’d been involved since the prowler incident nine days ago. He wasn’t backing away now.

Minutes later, he eased back against the nearby pop machine while Perris took a seat on a stool at the camp store’s counter and Rachel lowered herself to the one beside him. She slid their coffee cups aside.

Perris pulled out a pen and notebook. “Okay, Mrs. Patterson. It’s Q and A time again. Any guesses as to the vic’s identity?”

She shook her head. “None at all.”

“No campers went missing in the past five years?”

“I don’t do a head count when they check out, but no one ever mentioned a missing friend or relative.”

“And how long have you owned the campground?”

“It was my late-husband’s when we married six years ago,” she said. “But the property where the bones were found wasn’t mine until recently.”

Perris raised a black eyebrow. “It wasn’t?”

“No, I inherited it from an elderly man who passed away last year. I’d asked him several times if I could buy it because Willard—Mr. Trehern—had no plan to use it. By itself, it was too narrow to build on. But it bordered my land and was big enough for a putt-putt golf course.”

“Trehern just left it to you? There was no provision in the will for payment to be made to his next of kin?”

Rachel shook her head. “I had no idea he’d given it to me until Jillian came by after the will had been read and handed me the deed.”

Perris scribbled another note in his book. “Does this Jillian have a last name?”

“Donner,” Rachel replied, resisting the urge to say that everyone had a last name. “Will Trehern was her uncle. I don’t think he had any other relatives. None that I know of anyway.”

“Then she got the rest of Trehern’s estate?”

“I believe so.”

The chief took a minute to think. “Any chance she didn’t like sharing her inheritance?”

Jake watched Rachel’s face line. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, was there any reluctance on her part when she gave you the deed?”

Apparently she didn’t like Perris’s tone because she answered firmly, “Absolutely not. Jillian was glad I’d be using the land to make kids happy. She and her husband never had children.”

Perris folded his notebook and tucked it into his shirt pocket. “Okay. Hopefully we’ll get a hit on the vic’s clothing and dental work. In the meantime, no one crosses the yellow-tape line until we’ve finished examining the surrounding woods and area.”

Rachel sent Jake a brief, startled look. “For … more bodies?” she asked.

“Stranger things have happened,” Perris replied, then stood. “But basically, we’re still looking for a bullet.” He sent her an odd look before he walked to the screen door. Then as if he’d read Jake’s uneasy thoughts, he spoke again. “Mrs. Patterson, if the man you saw last week was here to dig up those bones before the heavy equipment moved in, and he thinks you recognized him—or saw something that would lead us to him—you could be in a world of trouble. I understand you’ve hired a few men for security purposes. That’s a step in the right direction. But it might be better if you left the area for a while.”

When Perris had gone—presumably to join the PSP officers—Jake straightened from the pop machine and walked to Rachel. He didn’t like the tight feeling in his chest. “Are you okay?”

She blew out a shaky breath. “Yes.”

He didn’t believe her for an instant. She’d mentioned having a target on her back after the arson report, but
there’d been a trace of flippancy in her voice. Now the reality of her situation had been driven home.

“The idea of multiple bodies buried on my land gives me chills, but I’m okay.” Her words and breathing were coming too fast. “What a tragic end to a life. He had to have been someone’s son or father or uncle or brother, but I never read or heard about anyone in the area disappearing. Shouldn’t someone have missed him?”

“Maybe he wasn’t from the area,” Jake said.

Rachel scooped up their cups, then cried out as one of them crashed to the floor. Jake took the other mug from her and set it on the counter. Her hands were shaking. “Sit down for a minute,” he said. “Take some time. The chief just laid a lot on you.”

“No, no,” she blurted, quickly stooping to pick up the pieces. “I did it. I need to clean it up.”

He eased Rachel to her feet—took the chunky pieces of stoneware from her and put it them on the counter, too. There were no tears. But the fear in her eyes nearly brought him to his knees. Unable to stop himself, he gathered her close, inhaled the citrus fragrance of her hair, liked too much the feel of her in his arms.

“Just breathe,” he murmured. “Nothing’s going to happen to you while Maggie and I are around. But the chief’s right. Leaving the area for a while is a very good idea.”

The screen door swung open with a long testy creak, and a woman spoke. “Rachel, why are there police vehicles parked—”

Rachel sprang back, her cheeks flushing guiltily. “Clarissa, hello.”

Jake watched her cross the floor to a puzzled-looking woman who appeared to be in her sixties. The
woman’s height and hair were both short—the latter, curly and dyed a weird burgundy shade. The jeans and long green shirt she wore with her flat sandals should have made her appear even shorter, but for some reason, didn’t. Maybe because of the strength he saw in her gray eyes.

Frowning, she hugged Rachel and kissed her cheek. “I know you said when you phoned that you didn’t need anything, but Mamie Jackson called last night to tell me that the fire was arson. I had to come.” She released her hold on Rachel, then sent him a frosty, what’s-going-on-here? stare.

Rachel handled the introductions with grace. “Clarissa, this is my neighbor, Jake Campbell. He bought the Britmeyers’ log cabin down the road when he moved here. Jake, Clarissa Patterson. David’s mother.”

For a second, Jake froze in place. Then he smiled and shook the woman’s outstretched hand. Now he understood Rachel’s uneasy reaction. Obviously, he wouldn’t be sticking around now, but he
would
be staying close. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Patterson.”