Читать книгу Endless Night - Dana Mentink - Страница 11

Jackie floated briefly into wakefulness the next morning to the sound of a plane flying over. She knew it was Roman, on his way to pick up supplies or people at the airport. Part of her felt relieved that he had made it through the unforgiving Alaskan night intact. No one else should lose their lives at this beautiful lodge, even someone she never wanted to see again. She drifted back into another hour of fitful sleep, awaking groggy and dazed.

She lay for a moment, pretending she was on vacation. The fantasy didn’t last long. The threat from her voicemail chilled her. She wrapped herself in her jacket, having left her robe in San Francisco, and checked her phone for messages, calling back to her apartment to check there, too. Nothing. Her stomach knotted into a tight ball. Next she booted up the laptop and sat, foot tapping, urging the machine to work faster.

It finally loaded the messages and she found what she was looking for. Asia had sent a brief message in the late hours of the previous night.

Be at Delucchi’s soon. Mick is well enough to travel. Got to resolve this before it’s too late. When Mick worked at his brother’s practice they had a similar problem. One doctor lost his license for fraudulent billing. Cops thought he was working with a crime ring but never had enough to convict him. Gotta have an airtight case. I’m onto a new lead. We’ll talk soon.

Asia

She was so happy to hear from her friend, the implication didn’t hit her at first. Be at Delucchi’s soon? How had Asia found her? Jackie’s pulse pounded.

Her fingers hammered out a frantic message, hoping her friend was online, praying no one was hacking into their e-mails.

Are you okay? Location?

When no return e-mail arrived she thought about the thumb drive tucked in her bag. Buried somewhere in the data it contained was enough evidence to incriminate the crime ring and Reynolds. It also had plenty of confidential patient information on it. Second, now Jackie was definitely in deep, possessing information she had no right to.

Uncertainty surged through her again. What should she do? Was it safe for Asia to come, with Lloyd watching every move and the threat left on her voicemail? She typed quickly.

Might be trouble here. Don’t come.

She’d just hit the send button when a knock at the door made her jump. She hurriedly closed the file and shut the laptop screen before she went to the door.

Byron Lloyd stood there, bundled in a ski jacket, scarf and hat, stamping up and down to keep warm. “Morning.” His voice thundered through the small cabin. “Heading in for breakfast. Figured you might want an escort.”

He looked past her. “Are you working? Thought you were on vacation.”

“I am. I’m not quite ready for breakfast. I’ll be there in a few minutes. You go on without me.”

“You sure?”

She nodded. “Quite sure. Go on ahead, please.”

He gave her a jolly smile and headed out, crunching across the newly fallen snow, through the still-dark morning. She watched until he’d entered the lodge and pulled the drapes more firmly closed. She put the thumb drive in her pocket and deleted the e-mail. If Lloyd, or anybody else, came snooping around, they wouldn’t find incriminating documents on her computer. She pulled on the warmest clothes she’d brought and pocketed the thumb drive. Pulling her hair into a ponytail, she surveyed the damage of a sleepless night. Shadows under her eyes, freckles standing out in sharp contrast to her pale skin. Sighing, she slicked on some sunscreen and carefully locked the cabin door behind her as she left.

The moonlight shone on the large footprints Lloyd had left as she approached the lodge. What had he said on the plane ride from the airport? She’d been so overwhelmed at seeing Roman she hadn’t listened fully. He was a reporter, covering the Winterfest events for a paper? Magazine? Which one? Had he mentioned a name? She made a decision to find out. Lloyd wasn’t the only one who could ask nosy questions. It made her feel marginally better to go on the offensive, at least with Lloyd.

She could just make out people busy filling front loaders with snow and emptying them into huge wooden boxes in front of the lodge, where the land flattened out for several acres. It clicked in her mind. The snow sculpture competitions would start the next day. Each participant got his or her precisely measured square of compacted snow to fashion a fantastic frozen work of art. She’d watched the competition many years running, always in awe of the talented artists who showed up to win the thousand-dollar prize. Skip had lobbied hard for years to host the competition and he’d finally been successful.

A person loaded up with a stack of boxes approached the lodge. Jackie scooted ahead to hold the door. The figure hesitated for a moment. Jackie shivered when she recognized the man.

“Thanks,” Roman said. “June’s cooking supplies.”

“You’re welcome.” Jackie noticed he seemed thinner than she remembered, but his arms and broad shoulders seemed just as iron-strong as he hefted the heavy crates with ease over the threshold. He disappeared down the hallway and she joined the assorted diners in the family eating-area. A huge fire was crackling and the room was filled with cheerful laughter and conversation. She recognized the honeymooning couple, a portly man and his wife, with skin nearly as white as their matching sweaters, and Byron Lloyd. Purposefully sliding into the empty space next to Lloyd, she filled her plate with scrambled eggs, June’s homemade blueberry scones and succulent sausages.

Her stomach growled and it dawned on Jackie that she hadn’t eaten a full meal since before her flight. She tried not to wolf down the food.

“Did you sleep well, Mr. Lloyd?”

“Like a log. I’ve been traveling for work for the past twenty-five years so I can pretty much sleep on anything. You?”

“Fairly well. It must be exciting to be a journalist.” Jackie noticed a sour-faced Fallon seating herself at the far end of the table.

“You bet. And you? What’s your line of work?”

She’d been ready for the question. “I’m between jobs right now. I’ve often thought about writing.”

He laughed. “Most folks I meet say the same thing. What was your job back home?”

She ignored the question. “The more I think about it, the more I like the idea. How did you get into the writing business, Mr. Lloyd?”

“Call me Byron.” He took a sip of coffee. “I’ve done all kinds of things, just sort of fell into it.”

“And what publication did you say you wrote for?”

“Adventure Roads. It’s a nice little rag.”

Jackie felt a presence at her elbow. She kept her body turned toward Lloyd, determined to wring more information out of the man, who she knew was not who he seemed to be.

Roman stood, shifting uneasily, a plate in his hands. Surely there was another place at the table somewhere. He found the benches filled with happy, munching people. The only available spot was next to Jackie, who seemed to be grilling Byron Lloyd. Roman was just about to turn around when Lloyd spotted him.

“Hey, young fella. Here’s a seat for you.” Lloyd shifted over and cleared a place between himself and Jackie.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll eat in the kitchen.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” said June Delucchi, replacing an empty platter of sausages with a steaming new batch. “The kitchen is insane. I’ve got breakfast going out and lunch already simmering, plus the baking to start for the snow-sculpture crowd. If you eat in there, you’re liable to wind up in the stew pot.”

Mr. Lloyd beamed. “Better not cross a lady with a knife collection.”

Roman shot a glance at Jackie, who kept her gaze studiously fastened to her coffee cup. Sighing internally, he eased onto the bench, his arm tingling where it brushed against hers.

Lloyd clapped him on the back. “So, you two know each other, huh?”

Roman filled his mouth with eggs and nodded.

“Ever travel back to San Fran to visit her?”

He swallowed. “Only once a couple years ago.” He’d sure imagined returning, though. How they’d see all the places she’d talked about. He didn’t have much of a yen to travel, but for her, with her, anyplace would feel like home. The idea seemed like a child’s fantasy to him now. To clear his head he took a deep swallow of coffee and burned his mouth.

Skip entered, frowning at a clipboard.

“Need some help, Skip?” Roman called over the clatter of the meal.

Skip looked up, momentarily disoriented. “No, no thanks. You eat your breakfast.” He returned his attention to the clipboard and continued on toward the kitchen.

“He looks worried.”

The soft voice surprised him. He looked at Jackie, who was following Skip’s progress out of the room. “Yeah, I guess he does.”

She kept her voice low. “Is the lodge business struggling?”

He shrugged. “It attracts a steady crowd, but the economy has hurt everyone.” He wanted to say more, to keep her talking, but each word seemed a fresh reminder of what he’d had, and what he’d lost. It was too much. Picking up his plate, he made an excuse and stood up.

“What’s the matter, man?” Lloyd boomed. “A strapping fellow like you can’t live on two bites of breakfast.”

“I’ve got a…” Roman’s words were lost in a crash and shout from outside. He put his plate back on the table and ran out the front entrance, right behind Skip and June Delucchi, who had emerged from the kitchen. Jackie, Lloyd and a few other guests jogged out after them.

An overturned snowmobile lay on its side, engine sputtering. Nearby a groaning man clapped a hand to his leg. Dax, a handyman for the lodge, knelt next to the injured man. Skip ran to them.

“What’s happened?”

Dax shook his head. “Reg hit a rock or something, maybe a buried tree limb. Snowmobile went over and I think he busted his ankle.”

The man on the ground moaned. “Not busted, just sprained.”

Roman hid a smile. Typical Alaska toughness. “Looks like there’s some swelling. You need an X-ray, at least.”

Talking over the grumbling from the stricken man, Skip and Dax made arrangements for Dax to drive to the nearest clinic. Reg was gingerly loaded onto a truck and sent off, in spite of his loud protests.

Roman looked at Skip and June. They’d moved away a piece and were having a serious conversation. He noticed June wiping away tears before she headed back to the lodge with the curious guests.

Jackie remained.

Roman put a hand on Skip’s arm. “What can I do to help?”

Skip waved him off. “Nothing. You’ve already got more cargo to fly in for us.”

“Not until later. I can help here.” He gestured to the front loader. “I can fill some blocks while you go get the tape to mark it. We can find someone to stomp it down.”

Skip shook his head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

Roman headed toward the front loader. “You don’t have to.”

Skip gave him a grateful smile and left.

Before he started the engine, Roman looked up in surprise to find Jackie climbing the ladder perched against the wooden form farthest away from him.

“You don’t have to do that, Jackie,” he called. “I don’t need help.”

She looked up only for a moment. “Skip does,” she yelled back.

That’s right, Roman. She doesn’t care about you anymore. That’s the way it will always be. Get that through your thick head. His head already knew—it was his heart that needed convincing, he thought grimly, even after two long years.

Roman turned his attention to the front loader, fired the engine to life and began scooping up piles of snow and dumping them into the ten-foot wooden forms that would mold it into perfect blocks for sculpting. When one was relatively full, Jackie would climb up and stomp it all down before he added another load. When the snow was uncrated it would create perfect ten-foot-by-ten-foot squares. They kept at it. He could see the fatigue in her body, the tired droop to her head, yet she worked without complaint until June caught his eye from the front porch and gestured for them to come in for lunch.

Roman killed the motor and jumped down from the front loader. His hands were stiff. They’d filled only eleven of the boxes completely—still another five to go. He made his way over to Jackie, who had not seen June’s summons. She was busily stomping down snow with a vengeance.

“Jackie? Lunch-break command from Mrs. D.”

She nodded and began to climb down the ladder. As she did so, the ladder pitched loose from the side of the box and wobbled, causing her to lose her footing. Jackie slipped, maintaining her grip on the ladder with only one hand, until she fell.

There wasn’t time to think about it. Roman caught her as they tumbled to the ground. She landed next to him, eyes wide, lips parted in shock. The feel of her small frame against his side, the softness of her hair tickling his chin drowned him in memory for a moment. He could have imagined it, but for the briefest second he felt her lean her head against his shoulder.

With a sudden movement she scrambled to her feet. Roman did the same. Jackie turned to face him, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. “Thanks…I, I must be tired to fall off a ladder.”

He shrugged, hoping she could not read his feelings on his face. “You’ve been working hard. No harm done.”

Jackie giggled. “Sorry, but you’ve got a clump of snow stuck right to the top of your head.”

He held still while she reached out and brushed the snow off his hair.

He flushed and let her finish.

“Thanks again, for the soft landing.” She turned and started toward the lodge, pulling her gloves off and unzipping her pocket to put them inside. As she did so something small and metallic spiraled down. Jackie started frantically, twirling around, peering at the snow-covered ground to find the item. Her face was stark, body tense.

Roman joined her in the search. “What fell?”

“Nothing. Nothing important.”

The lie was obvious in her increasing panic. He bent over to squint at the harshly glittering snow until he saw the item and picked it up. He didn’t get time to look closely, as she snatched it from his fingers.

“Thanks. That’s it. Um, thank you. Thanks again.” Without a word of explanation, she jogged toward the building, leaving him to wonder.

Whatever was on that thumb drive, she acted like it was a matter of life and death.