Текст книги "Tempt Me If You Can"
Автор книги: Джанет Чапмен
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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
Chapter Sixteen
F ive days. Five long, boring days of being treated like an invalid by five males, one of which had four legs and a cold nose.
She was totally sick of it. Her ankle was healed, her shoulder couldn’t move but it was out of the sling, and her beautiful house looked like a dust bowl. It was time to clean it out, and Emma started with her watchdogs—including the four-legged one.
“Are you headed into town again this morning?” she asked Ben over her cup of tea, sitting across the table from the man who could, with just a look, send her pulse into overdrive.
She’d been getting a lot of those looks lately—whenever he was home. Ben had been leaving the house every morning for the last five days, returning only for supper. He called her every noon to check on how she was feeling, but Emma knew he was really checking to make sure she was behaving herself.
“Yes,” he said, his piercing gray eyes sending another ripple of awareness down her spine as she tried to remember her question. “And what are your plans for the day?”
“I thought I would do some dusting.”
“You’re not well enough to do housework,” he said with all the concern of a man who didn’t see dust or cobwebs or accumulating laundry.
“I think I can manage a dustrag. And the first thing I’m cleaning out is all you men. Mikey’s going to school, and Skyler is taking him. I want him to pick him up this afternoon also. Atwood can go to cabin six and do ‘secretary’ stuff. And you’re taking Beaker with you into town. That poor beast is more bored than I am,” she finished, raising her chin.
He merely smiled. “Are we driving you nuts, Emma?”
“I can’t turn around without tripping over testosterone.” She set her cup on the table with a thunk. “It’s bad enough I have to stay cooped up all day; I don’t need an army of guards watching my every move.”
His frown returned. “You’re liable to get an idea into your head and take off or something.”
“A person can only take so much coddling, Ben.”
He stared at her, his face chiseled stone. Emma felt another ripple run down her spine. Ben hadn’t said one word about her nearly getting his son killed six days ago. And not once had he commented on the tangle of metal, now sitting behind the garage. He didn’t speak of Wayne Poulin or the coordinates, of drug running or the shots fired at them. Nor did he mention the bullet wound in her shoulder.
Ben looked down at Beaker, who had sidled over and set his chin on her knee. “I suppose you could use a break,” he said, his face softening. “You’re too independent for all this attention, and Beaker and I could use a little time together.”
Immensely pleased with her little victory, Emma patted Beaker on the head as she took a piece of toast from her plate and fed her new friend.
Ben pushed his chair back and walked over to the counter, where he grabbed the bowl of Elmer Fudge cookies. He returned to the table and proceeded to pick out a cookie, break it apart, and use a table knife to scrape the chocolate center into his plate.
Beaker immediately raised his head to watch.
Ben performed his little operation on two dozen cookies, making a huge pile of vanilla wafers. Then he swept them up and stuffed them in his pocket.
“Bribery, Ben?” Emma asked with a laugh.
“Self-defense,” he answered as he stood up. “Come on, Beaker. Let’s go for a ride.” The dog stood, his tail wagging as he stared at Ben’s pocket.
Ben walked to the door and opened it. “Come on, Beaker. Outside.”
Her faithful guardian obediently trotted to the door, but stopped and looked back at her with uncertainty. Emma nodded. “Go on, boy. Go for a ride.”
The dog bounded outside.
Ben let the screen door slap closed as he walked back to the table, and grabbed her chin in his hand. “Now that he’s out of the way …” he whispered, just as his mouth captured hers.
Emma’s toes instantly curled, and she had to grab the table for support. Holy hell, he was dangerous to her heart. But she wouldn’t allow her fears to rob her of this enjoyment anymore. She wrapped her good arm around his neck and kissed him back.
That was all the invitation he needed. He carefully pulled her to her feet and into his arms, wrapping her in his warmth and strength and sweet-smelling maleness. Her head reeled with unleashed passion. The very floor beneath them rumbled. Dishes rattled. A pot on the counter crashed to the floor.
Emma pulled back and looked up at him. “How do you keep doing that?” she whispered in awe.
His frown made her laugh out loud.
“Jeez, Nem! That was a powerful one,” Mikey said as he ran into the kitchen, sliding to a sudden stop when he saw his aunt in the arms of his father.
Emma realized she was clinging to Ben and stepped back.
The kitchen door banged open, and Atwood and Skyler came running into the kitchen, Beaker fast on their heels. The two men’s eyes were nearly bugging out of their heads; Beaker was whining and looking for a place to hide.
Emma laughed out loud.
“What was that?” Atwood asked. “Maine doesn’t have earthquakes, does it?”
She shook her head. “Not usually. But we do get
little rumbles every once and a while. Just enough to rattle the dishes.”
“That was more than a rattle,” Skyler interjected.
“It’s the earth rebounding from being crushed by heavy glaciers thousands of years ago,” Mikey told them. “Or it might be the hot springs,” he said, looking at Emma. “They could be rumbling back to life.”
Emma preferred the image of Benjamin Sinclair’s arms upraised, commanding nature to his will. She forcibly shook it away. “Well, gentlemen. Since you’re all here now, Ben has something he wants to tell you.”
Ben looked at her, the spark of passion still in his eyes. “Maybe you should tell them, Emma, since you’re so full of … surprises this morning.”
Fighting down the heat suddenly threatening to color her face, Emma looked at the three expectant men, and at Beaker, who was sitting and staring up at her.
“Ah …” She looked at Mikey first. “Ben and I were thinking it’s time for you to go back to school.”
The boy immediately shook his head. “I want to stay home a few more days.”
“I think you’re over the trauma of crashing our plane, young man. You’ve milked it long enough.”
“But—”
“Go to school, Mike. Skyler, you’ll take him and pick him up,” Ben added, looking at Skyler, who nodded in return.
“Atwood,” Ben continued, “why don’t you see about filling that woodshed out back.”
Atwood quickly nodded, seeming relieved not to have to spend another day lurking close to the house.
Ben turned to her. “And you won’t lift anything heavier than a dustrag?” he asked, looking skeptical.
She placed her right hand over her heart. “I promise not to get into any trouble,” was all she said in agreement.
He kissed her firmly on the lips. “I’ll be home early,” he said, and walked out the door, calling Beaker to follow.
Emma went to the sink, and with a slightly trembling hand and pink face, she picked up the fallen pot. “Have a nice day, gentlemen,” she said without looking up as they silently filed out the door. Each of them stopped only long enough to dip into the bowl of cookies on their way out before letting the screen door slam behind them.
Emma eyed the empty bowl. They were going through the Elmer Fudge cookies like kibble. She didn’t know where they had come from, but there was a whole case in the pantry. And there always seemed to be a large bowl of them on the counter. She had decided it was magic, because one minute she’d notice the bowl was empty, and the next minute it would be full.
Her little addiction seemed to be contagious.
It was three o’clock before Emma heard the kitchen door slam again over the voice of Mary Chapin Carpenter coming from her earphones. She looked up from the paperwork scattered over the table to see Ben and Beaker walk in, both looking like they owned the place.
Beaker trotted up and immediately pushed at her arm for attention. Emma pulled off her headset and shut off her radio, then reached down to greet her pet.
“Something smells good,” Ben said, shedding his jacket. “What’s in the oven?”
“I got sick of Mikey’s cooking.” Emma patted her dog. “He’s got this thing about spices. That’s turkey you’re smelling.”
Ben looked concerned. “How did you get it in the oven with only one arm?”
“I called in reinforcements. Greta put the turkey in the oven,” she explained, looking back down at her paperwork. “You can either wash the potatoes or help me figure out how I’m going to come up with the funds for a new plane.”
“You said it was insured,” he said, scanning the paperwork from over her shoulder. “So what’s the
problem?”
“They’re not paying out until the FAA has finished its investigation. I … um … I don’t have an instructor’s license, and Mikey isn’t old enough to solo yet. And word’s out that he was at the controls at the time of the crash. The investigation could take months.” She tapped her pencil on her financial worksheet. “And I don’t have months. In the winter I change the pontoons to skis and fly ice fishermen into remote ponds and biologists in for animal counts. I need to replace my plane.”
“I’ll give you the money,” he said, rolling up his sleeves and going to the sink, apparently confident the problem was solved.
“No.”
He stopped in midstep and turned. “No?”
Emma picked her words carefully. “I appreciate the offer, Ben, but I don’t want your money. Don’t take it personally. It’s just that I … I wouldn’t be comfortable,” she finished, looking down at her papers.
He walked back to the table and stood over her, and silently waited. He was going to take it verypersonally, she realized. He’d made a generous, innocent offer, and she’d rebuffed him, no matter how diplomatically. Several long seconds passed before she found the nerve to look up.
“I can just write you a check.”
“I know you can, but I want to do this myself. Paying for a new plane isn’t the problem; it’s waiting for the insurance to pay that’s got me stumped. I just thought that with your business background, you might have an idea how I can temporarily shuffle my money around.”
He suddenly turned and headed back to the sink, once more rolling up his sleeves. “You need an accountant for that.”
Emma blew out a breath with enough force to ripple her papers. He wasn’t angry; he was hurt.
She began gathering up her papers into an unorganized pile. Hell. She felt like throwing the papers into her woodstove, then crawling in behind them. She hadn’t meant to hurt Ben.
The last paper to go on her pile was one Emma didn’t recognize. It was legal length and folded in fourths, and she knew it hadn’t been there ten minutes ago. She opened it up to read it, but didn’t get past the first line.
The silence that suddenly fell over the room was so absolute, Emma could hear the blood rushing through her veins. The pounding of her heart was deafening. The room around her receded into the recesses of her consciousness as she opened her mouth and closed it again.
She finally found her voice, which didn’t seem to be hers at all. “This is an application for a marriage license.”
“Yes,” came a solid, faraway voice from right beside her.
“It’s all filled out.”
“Only one line’s still blank,” Ben said.
Emma stared at the document. Every piece of information about her was there, from her birth date and birthplace to her parents’ names and her Social Security number. Everything was filled in for Benjamin Sinclair as well.
“Michael. Your middle name is Michael,” was all she could say, fixated by that one small fact.
“Kelly knew my middle name.”
Emma finally looked at him. “This is a marriagelicense application,” she repeated.
“Yes.”
“And all I have to do is sign it, and we can get married.”
“You would also have to show up for the ceremony.”
“Are you … is this a proposal?”
“I believe I already proposed. This is the next step.”
Emma rubbed her forehead. “I don’t remember a proposal, exactly. I do remember you mentioning your plans for afterwe got married. You said something about running your business from Maine.”
He pulled her hand away from her forehead, holding it in his as he went down on one knee. “Sign it, Emma.”
“I … I have to think about this,” she whispered, tugging on her hand.
“You havethought about it.”
“I’ve had plenty of other things on my mind lately.”
“You’re going to sign it eventually, so why not take this load off your shoulders now? Sign the paper and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Just like you plan to take care of me?”
He shook his head. “I have no intention of taking over your life, Emma. You’ll be just as independent after we’re married as you are now. You just won’t be alone anymore.”
He was telling her to trust him.
Which she already did.
He was telling her they could spend the rest of their lives together.
Which she wanted to do very badly.
He was saying he respected her independence.
Which she needed to keep in order to survive.
But he wasn’t telling her that he loved her.
Emma’s eyes locked with his, and that was how Greta found them.
“Land sakes, that boy can fill a hamper with clothes!” her friend complained as she walked in from the great room. She came to a halt in midstride and stared. Her eyes widened when she spotted Beaker sitting next to the stove, eyeing her back.
Greta returned her gaze to the table. “It’s nice to see you again, Benjamin Sinclair.” She set her basket down and wiped her hands on her slacks before she reached out in greeting. “You might not remember me. I’m Greta LaVoie, a friend of Michael and Emma.”
Ben stood and accepted Greta’s hand, taking it between his as he smiled down at her warmly. “Miss LaVoie. I certainly remember you bake the best cakes this side of the Canadian border.”
Greta, who wasn’t charmed by the best of men, blushed like a peach. “So you finally came,” she said, clasping Ben’s hands within hers. “I’m so glad. Michael’s been wanting to meet you for a very long time.”
“I’m deeply glad to have discovered him,” he answered before pulling away.
“And now you’ll protect him and Emma from whoever’s trying to kill them?”
“What makes you think someone wants to kill them?”
Greta frowned up at him in disbelief. “They were shot at. Their plane crashed. They know too much.”
“Half the county knows as much as they do by now.”
Greta nodded. “You just keep that boy out of this logging war. And who’s this?” she asked, going over to the German shepherd.
“That’s Beaker. Emma’s new pet,” Ben told her.
Greta looked at Emma. “But you’re scared to death of any dog larger than a squirrel.” She looked at Ben. “Emma Jean was chased halfway across town by a Doberman when she was seven. I had to walk that child to the store for six months after that. She had terrible nightmares for years.”
“She likes Beaker.”
Greta began petting the dog, who welcomed the attention.
Emma looked down at the table, picked up the application for her marriage license, and quickly signed on the one remaining blank line. Then she folded it back into fourths and pushed it to the center of the table.
A large hand swooped down and grabbed it, and Emma watched it disappear into Ben’s shirt pocket. She lifted her gaze to find piercing gray eyes staring back at her with triumphant satisfaction.
By God, she’d done it now.
Chapter Seventeen
I t was well intothe small hours of the night—the time when the mind is drugged with sleep, when dreams and reality mesh. Emma came awake slowly, her senses rousing one by one. The now familiar warmth snuggled against her side comforted her, as did the peaceful shadows of her room and the feel of her own pillow under her head. Only her nose was at odds with her surroundings, nudging her further awake.
She was smelling springtime. Flowers. Specifically, roses.
A sound was her second clue all was not right within her realm of security. From the floor came the soft noise of Beaker contentedly gnawing on a piece of rawhide.
Which meant the warmth beside her was not her dog.
Adrenaline fired her awake into frozen awareness. The heavy warmth beside her rose to loom like a dark specter as the blankets tightened, entrapping her.
“Sshhh. Don’t panic. It’s me.”
“Ben?”
“You’re a sound sleeper. I’ve been lying beside you for nearly an hour.”
Emma tried to throw off the last cobwebs of sleep. She was suddenly living her long-held dream of sharing a bed with Benjamin Sinclair. All of her fantasies bubbled to the surface—the warmth of his body, the welcome weight pushing against her, the feel of his breath on her face. His smell invaded her senses, making it impossible to tell reality from longing. She closed her eyes, savoring the feel of his weight.
“Wake up, Emma,” he whispered.
“I don’t want to.”
“I want you awake when I make love to you, Em.”
She opened her eyes and found his face mere inches from hers, his eyes aglow with reflected moonlight, his mouth a white gleam of humor.
“Okay,” she sighed.
“Oh no. I want to hear the words first.”
“Words?”
He blew an impatient sigh, wafting her hair. “The words to back up that paper you signed today, that give me permission to be in this bed.” He softly kissed the end of the nose. “I need to hear them soon, before I go insane.”
“I do trust you, Ben. With my life, my home, and my nephew. I trust you.”
The moonlight illuminated his frown. She knew what he wanted to hear; she just wasn’t sure she could say it out loud.
“And?” he growled, every muscle in his body tightening.
“And I think you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met. You’re more beautiful than a sunset, and more solid than the mountains. You’re more man than I ever hoped to be with.”
Suddenly his hands were in her hair, capturing her head while he lifted her face and kissed her full on the mouth.
No vision from her imagination could ever consume her so completely. No other man could waken her feminine yearnings as fiercely. Emma parted her lips, matching his passion with her own. She tasted him, pulling his essence into herself as she struggled to free her hands to gather him closer.
He broke the kiss, drawing in a shuddering breath that matched hers, and stared down at her with eyes the color of polished lake ice.
“I swear, Ben—if the ground starts shaking again, I’m going to scream.”
He laid his forehead on hers. “I’m about to forget all about my noble intentions, your sore shoulder, and the words I’m still waiting to hear.”
“I can give you what you want without saying it out loud, Ben.”
“No,” he said, lifting his head. “We’ll seal our bond tonight, Emma, but not until you surrender yourself. You can be strong and stubborn and fearless with the rest of the world, but with me, right now, you need to let down your guard. No pretenses. No digressions. I want you warm and soft and vulnerable, and that begins with you saying the words out loud.”
He was done with the chase, and he wasn’t about to settle for a compromise. He wanted total, complete, irrevocable surrender.
“I love you,” she whispered. “I always have and I always will. I’ve been waiting fifteen years for you to come for me.”
She waited, then said, “I’m not the only one baring her soul here, Sinclair.”
”Don’t you know that I love you!” His mouth captured hers again, making her burn all the way to the center of her being.
As a declaration of love, it was about as romantic and subtle as a bull moose bugling its intentions. Ben tore the blankets from the bed and fell on her with all the finesse of a man well beyond his patience. Completely naked, he scorched her skin right through her flimsy nightgown.
Smelling roses again, Emma opened her eyes to see petals floating through the air, set off by the blankets thrown to the floor. She was completely surrounded by rose petals, and by the man who had strewn them over the bed while she slept.
With an eagerness that matched his, Emma wrapped her arms around Ben’s neck and met his passion, raining kisses over the hard planes of his face, feeling the scratch of his beard tickle her with joy.
“I love you,” she whispered into his ear just before she lightly bit it.
He laughed out loud, the sound warming her. He found the neck of her nightgown and ripped it down to her waist as he pulled it from her shoulders. Another cloud of petals filled the air, dancing in the moonlight as lightly as her heart.
He suddenly stopped above her, then leaned down and softly kissed the bandage on her left shoulder. “My God, I could have lost you.” He gathered her against him fiercely. “I nearly lost you.”
“Sshhh. I’m okay, and I’m here,” she whispered, hugging him just as fiercely. “Love me, Ben, and see if you can make my dishes rattle again.”
He lifted his head and returned her smile. “Oh, I intend to. I may even crack a few of them,” he finished, cupping her left breast.
Emma sucked in a surprised breath as he moved his thumb across her nipple, and she arched her back in eager acceptance. She used her own hands to explore his chest, which was wide and hard and hot, and dug her fingers into his shoulders when he took her nipple into his mouth.
She moaned, kissing his hair and running her fingers through it. She felt his hands at her waist, pulling her panties down, along with what was left of her nightgown. Within seconds she was as naked as he was.
“You’ve got the body of an angel,” he whispered as he moved back over her, bringing her into intimate contact with the proof of his desire. “You’re myangel.”
Impatient, she wrapped her legs around his hips and placed the heart of her womanhood at the tip of his shaft.
“Wait,” he gritted, trembling with restraint.
Ignoring him, Emma lifted her hips, sheathing herself over his manhood as she exerted pressure with her legs on the back of his. He finished the task with a groan, burying himself deep within her.
She squeaked at the discomfort of the invasion, bracing her hands on his shoulders as if to hold back a mountain. He instantly stilled.
“You’re damn tight, Emma.”
“You’re damn big, Ben.”
He smiled at her as he slowly started to move, causing a sensation so exquisite Emma was afraid she might have left nail marks in his chest.
Not that he seemed to notice. His head was thrown back and his eyes were closed, and she could see he was caught in a maelstrom of pleasure. Tentatively she began to move her own hips.
“Be still,” he gritted through clenched teeth, looking down with eyes darkened with desperation. “Or this is going to be over before it begins.”
She reached up and wiped the sweat on his forehead. “And I thought you were a powerful god,” she said, lightly tugging his hair. “You’re merely mortal after all.”
He shut her up by capturing her mouth with his, and began moving more earnestly as he reached down and found the very center of her nature.
Emma ignited like a volcano, molten white heat consuming her as she cried out in convulsing pleasure. The moon and all the stars flooded the darkness that had surrounded her heart all these years. She became one with the man of her dreams as she felt him shudder deep inside her, his own cry softly echoing through the room.
She tried to calm her racing heart as she held Ben close. Small convulsions continued to rack her body, pleasant little ripples of waning ecstasy. Breathing, which she desperately needed to do right now, was nearly impossible.
She shifted in an attempt to wiggle free.
“Are you hurt, Emma? Did I injure your shoulder?” he asked, concern rousting him as nothing else could.
She smiled up at him, and pulled him down to her side as she continued to cuddle him close. “No. I just needed some air.”
He returned her smile with a cocky one. “I take your breath away?” He brushed the hair back from her face. “Not bad for a mere mortal.”
As if his teasing had awoken the gods of the underworld, the soft rumble of trembling earth approached, growing more ominous in volume until even the bed began to shake. The windows rattled in their sashes. The lamp on her nightstand clinked with growing violence.
Beaker whined.
Emma gasped. “Dammit, Benjamin. Cut that out!” she hissed.
He jumped out of bed and nearly fell. “Me? It’s your damn hot springs!”
She sat up, hugging the blankets to her chest as she looked at him.
“This is getting eerie.” He caught her staring, and grabbed a pillow and held it at his waist, covering up all the best parts. “What’s happening in your woods?”
Emma sighed. “You’re not superstitious, are you?”
The bed dipped and she found herself flat on her back, Ben looming over her again. “It’s not funny.” He kissed her to stop her laughter. When he was finished with that chore, he kissed her again. Emma guessed the second time was just to prove he could without the windows rattling again.
“I have to go,” he whispered into her mouth.
“Why?”
“It’s nearly dawn. And when Mike catches us in bed, I want us to be married.”
Emma sighed again. “Yeah.”
“So when will that be, Em?”
“Well … when do you want to get married?”
“Tomorrow.”
She burst out laughing again. “How about next spring?”
“How about later this week?”
“A Christmas wedding, then.”
“Thanksgiving.”
“But that’s only two weeks away!”
“Two damn long weeks, if you ask me. What’s the problem, Emma?”
“I want a nice wedding. It’s the only one I’m going to have.”
Ben heaved a mighty sigh. “You can have as nice a wedding as you can put together in two weeks. That’s as long as I’m waiting.”
“Or?”
He smiled but he didn’t look amused. “Or I will shanghai you on one of my cargo ships and have the captain marry us at sea.”
“That’s … you can’t … oh, okay. Thanksgiving, then,” she conceded, sealing her bargain with a quick kiss. “In my church. With Greta as my maid of honor.”
“I don’t care if Pitiful stands up with you as long as it’s legal.” Ben stood up and began hunting for his clothes.
Emma unabashedly watched, her knees tucked under her chin, admiring the play of muscles that made his movements efficient and graceful.
“Thank you for the roses. I’ve never received flowers before,” she said as she picked up several petals and held them to her nose.
“You’re welcome.” He kissed her and walked out of the room.
As soon as the door closed, she scooped up a handful of petals and inhaled their scent with gusto. She fell back on the pillow, letting the petals cascade over her face as she closed her eyes and inhaled again.
Damn if they didn’t smell like moss!
Though he considered himself firmly grounded in reality, there were times Ben could actually sensesomething lurking, preparing to pounce. It was never anything tangible or even definable, just a feeling of impending disaster.
He believed in the mysteries of this world, and he also believed there were things beyond human understanding better not dwelled on. But mostly Ben believed his gut when it was telling him something was wrong. And for the last week, it had been telling him something was very wrong in Medicine Gore.
There was evil walking these woods, threatening Emma and Mike and the new life Ben had found with them. They thought Poulin’s coordinates were a drug-drop site, but he felt they were part of something much more ugly. He’d first noticed it two days ago when he’d checked them out himself, and he felt it now, as he stood at the spot they marked.
“A dog would help,” Atwood said from ten feet away, scuffing at the ground with his foot, disturbing years of rotting leaves. “One of those dogs used to search for bodies after disasters.”
Ben turned to the quiet, intelligent detective. “It’s been ten years.”
Atwood shrugged as he continued to walk in circles, scanning the forest floor. “Dogs have remarkable noses.”
“When we get back, call one in. But keep it quiet. I don’t want Emma or Mike to know what we’re doing until we’ve found something concrete.”
“I’ll put Sklyer on it.”
Ben fought the chill that suddenly ran down his spine, hunkering deeper into his parka as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Why don’t you head into town and try to find out where Poulin has disappeared to,” he suggested. “If it looks like he’s really out of town, you may get your chance to check out his room.”
Atwood looked up and grinned. “A little more subtly than your lady did?”
Ben lifted a brow. “I’m assuming you have more experience at that sort of thing.”
“I can get in and out without leaving any tracks,” he drawled as he walked to Ben. “What about the old lady?”
“Emma said Greta was coming out to Medicine Creek this afternoon to start the wedding plans.”
Atwood’s face lit up. “Congratulations. You’re really going to tie the knot?”
“Just as tight as I can.”
He had no second thoughts about marrying Emma and legally adopting Mike. And if the small army he’d brought from New York couldn’t put Wayne Poulin away, Ben was taking his new family to the other side of the earth until this was finally settled. One way or another, he wasn’t letting the evil touch them.
“Go ahead on back,” he told Atwood. “I’m going to hang around a while longer.” He looked at the forest again. “The key to this puzzle is here. I can feel it.”
“We rode out here together. How you planning on getting home?”
Ben shrugged. “I tossed a pack in the truck before we left. I’ll walk back.”
Atwood looked incredulous. “It’s over twenty miles.”
“It’ll give me time to think. And according to the map, those old hot springs are between here and home. I think I’ll stop and check them out.”
Atwood turned wary. “That could be dangerous, what with all the tremors lately. There could be noxious gases escaping.”
Ben started walking to where they’d parked the Suburban. “I’ll be careful.”
Atwood fell into step beside him. “You want me to do any checking on the dam that was blown up fifteen years ago while I’m in town?”
“Leave that to the others. We’ll get together tonight and discuss what we’ve found.” He stopped and looked back at the forest. “My gut says it’s all connected. I don’t know how yet, but I think Poulin had something to do with Charlie Sands’s death and Kelly’s disappearance.”
At the truck, Ben pulled out his pack and the high-powered rifle he’d borrowed from Emma’s gun cabinet that morning. Then he lifted out the small cage that held Homer.
“You’re really getting into this woodsman stuff, aren’t you?” Atwood said with a chuckle.
“When I mentioned to Mike I was coming out here, he asked me to bring Homer with me and let him go. He wants to find out if the bird can find his way back without the benefit of having flown here,” Ben said.
