Читать книгу A Night Without End - Susan Kearney - Страница 14

His wife?

They were married? Sean’s announcement stunned Carlie speechless as the men carried Jackson’s body down a steep trail. Although she’d suggested leaving the body in the mine until a homicide detective investigated the crime scene, Sean had informed her animals would get to the body before the authorities could arrive. So they’d packed Jackson onto a sled, and Carlie tried not to think about the murdered man. Instead she considered Sean’s claim that they were husband and wife.

The men’s silence in the pine forest was broken only by the slide of falling rocks, the crunch of leaves, snaps of twigs underfoot and the occasional masculine grunt. Buffeted by a heavy head wind and flanked by sheer rock walls, the trail—consisting of icy sheets and compacted snowdrifts alternating with steep dirt patches—was not conducive to asking questions.

But Carlie couldn’t resist glancing at Sean McCabe, who claimed to be her husband. He walked with the grace of a mountain cat and was just as unapproachable. For a man who was supposed to be her spouse, he hadn’t exhibited much sympathy toward her plight. His face, all harsh planes and angles, never turned her way. And yet, behind his mask of indifference, she sensed his keen interest in her.

What kind of husband was he?

From the first time she’d awakened, he’d accused her of murder. Why would a husband think the worst of his wife? And he’d given no indication then they had a personal relationship, treating her as if they were strangers. Nor had he given her explanations about the two years she couldn’t remember.

To be fair and give him credit, although he was still grieving over Jackson, he had defended her from the other men’s aggression.

He had helped her.

But she expected more from a man to whom she had committed to spend the rest of her life; he had to back her no matter how suspicious her circumstances.

But he had.

He hadn’t, however, gone out of his way to reassure her; not by a glance or a squeeze of the hand had he indicated he was more than a casual acquaintance.

While she couldn’t remember him, she’d assumed her marriage would contain a certain intimacy, a bonding greater than other relationships. She must have loved him if she’d married this man. But even if her memories were gone and she couldn’t recall her own feelings, why couldn’t she find any evidence of his feelings for her?

He must have been shocked when she couldn’t remember him, more shocked to find her next to the dead body of his adoptive father with the murder weapon in hand. Although he’d been grieving, he hadn’t acted shocked, he’d spoken clearly, concisely and taken charge right off the bat. But still…a husband should always support his wife. What kind of man had she married?

A small slab of snow broke loose and shot down a gully, reminding her she’d awakened in another world. Where had she met Sean? She must have loved him to distraction to have moved to Alaska, left her family and given up a job she loved. She felt awful that she couldn’t remember their first dance, first kiss or making love. Knowing they must have shared these intimacies as man and wife, she had difficulty reconciling her husband with the man who’d recently accused her of murder. No matter how often she searched his flinty stare, she could find no display of tenderness or affection. Right now, she’d settle for just a little familiarity.

But he seemed as forbidding as the mountain’s summit. And just as hard to reach.

They strode past alders, willows and pine, and she took the opportunity to observe him. Sure, his body appealed to her. Who wouldn’t be attracted to those mountainous shoulders tapering to a lean waist and narrow hips? Nor would she deny her fascination with how the northern sunlight played off the angles of his tanned skin. His black hair was cut short in a style she found attractive. But the outside was just window dressing. And looking at him gave her few clues to his thoughts.

Frustrated by her lack of memory, she peeked down to the one-street town below. A church squatted next to a few stores. Cabins, chimneys curling wispy smoke into the blue sky, dotted the steep landscape. She figured the town couldn’t have a population of more than a hundred people, and if the town was anything like Riverview where she lived, folks knew one another’s business. Likely some of these people would have attended their wedding and the town paper would have published the story.

So why didn’t either Roger or Marvin or the college-age kid named Tyler know she was Sean’s wife? While Sean’s announcement had left her breathless and shocked, Roger’s jaw had dropped, his pink lips peeking through his thick beard. Marvin’s eyes had gone wide. Only Tyler had simply cocked an eyebrow and taken the news in stride.

Their reactions piqued her suspicions. Not only didn’t they recognize her as Sean’s wife, they didn’t appear to know that Sean had married.

Yet she couldn’t deny the wedding ring beneath her glove. During the last two years, she must have met Sean, fallen in love and married. But the only emotion she could dredge up whenever she looked at him was curiosity and tingling awareness of his presence.

Just past head-high willows, the trail ahead widened and forked. With no discussion among them, Sean sent the three men with Jackson’s body down the right path of the mountain and gestured for her to follow him to the left.

Ice covered the steeper part of the trail, but Sean walked without concern, his feet steady. Silent, like a hunter. No twigs snapped beneath his feet. His clothing didn’t rustle. He moved as one with the mountain, quickly, quietly, methodically.

While he seemed at ease in the silence, she could no longer hold back her maelstrom of questions. “Where are we going?”

“To my cabin.”

She halted in her tracks, didn’t bother masking the suspicion in her tone. “Your cabin. If we’re married, don’t I live there, too?”

“You will now.” He kept walking in that steady stride that could eat up miles.

Her annoyance rising, she hurried to keep up. Was he deliberately being obtuse? How could she have married such a poor communicator?

She caught up, tugged on his arm, drawing him to a stop. “Do we or do we not live together?”

She didn’t like the way her words came out breathless, but blamed it on the lack of oxygen in the high altitude and not his stare or the full force of his personality hitting her squarely and making her feel jumpy. At the intensity on his face, she wanted to take a step backward. But hell could freeze over before she’d let him think he could intimidate her.

“It might be better if you remembered on your own.” His voice sounded reasonable.

“Better for whom?” she countered, her temper rising. “Look, mister, I appreciate you keeping your friends from stringing me up from the nearest tree, but I don’t know you from squat.”

“Are you in the habit of marrying strangers?” he teased, a gleam in his eyes softening his face.

“Obviously I’ve picked up some bad habits.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“Now, why don’t I find that hard to believe?” she muttered, wondering how he’d changed the subject so smoothly. But she refused to let him distract her. “If you’re my husband, then start acting like it. I want some answers and I’d like them now. Please.”

“My cabin…our cabin,” he corrected himself, “is around the next bend. We can talk there.”

He set off without waiting for her agreement, once again leaving her to either tag along after him or not. Her blood sizzled at his refusal to answer simple questions. For a moment she considered hiking back to where the trails separated and heading into town and the nearest phone.

But Marvin, Tyler and Roger had gone ahead with Jackson’s body. She shuddered at the welcome she imagined they would give her if she showed up alone. Her other alternative was to remain here and freeze—not too appealing. The sun had begun a rapid descent behind the mountain’s summit, shadows lengthened and the temperature dropped ten degrees. She could only guess how cold the night would become, and not even her hot temper would keep her warm.

Furious, she stomped off after Sean, slipped around a bend and almost bumped into him. He didn’t appear the least bit sheepish or surprised to be caught waiting for her.

Placing his hands on her shoulders, he steadied her. “Slow down. This last stretch is the steepest.”

He didn’t exaggerate. The trail took a forty-five-degree bend downward. The remains of last winter’s snow had compacted into a sheet of ice and clung to the mountainside. If he hadn’t waited for her, she might have tumbled down the steep incline face-first.

“I don’t want you to open up that knot on your head.”

“Thanks.”

Maybe a hard fall would knock some sense into her. Or better still, bring her memories back. She had no business traipsing down the mountainside alone. Carlie was a city girl—the closest she got to camping was the Holiday Inn. But then Sean would know of her limited ability to survive in the wild, so he had no business leaving her to fend for herself. A bear could get her.

Before she lost hold of her temper once again, she forced herself to think. Maybe she’d learned some new wilderness skills in the last two years and had now forgotten them. She couldn’t keep making assumptions as if those two years hadn’t happened and then blame Sean for treating her for the tenderfoot she had been and now was again.

Besides, she had other problems to worry about. She’d been accused of murder. Sean’s cabin might end up being more prison than sanctuary, and it was only a matter of time before the authorities placed her under arrest.

She gazed up into his face, searched his eyes that flickered with a glint of humor amid the concern, and sensed he would treat her fairly. He wouldn’t let a mob string her up. She’d be safe with him.

With no warning, Sean yanked her against him, pulled her off balance and toppled backward toward the ledge.

“Hey—”

Her protest died in her throat as he locked his arms around her back so tightly, she had difficulty drawing a breath. With the force of a tidal wave, he hurled them over the precipice.

She braced for a jolting crash, but they landed with only a minor bump. But they were sliding. Sliding.

Wind whistled in her ears. Hair wrapped around her eyes, blocking her vision. Had he gone crazy, throwing himself over the cliff’s edge and taking her with him? Was he trying to kill her?

Rational thought fled as she shook her face free of her hair, and when she could see again, she gasped in terror. Although Sean had taken the weight of the fall on his back and she’d landed on top of him, they shot down the mountain, gathering speed with no visible way of stopping. Headfirst and chest to chest, they slid down the icy peak, skidding dangerously close to large rocks and pine stumps, generating miniature avalanches and rock slides.

Desperately she searched for a handhold to slow or halt their mad fall. But her grasping fingers felt nothing but loose rock and icy snow.

Fifty yards down hill, a huge boulder stood in their path. They’d never survive a head-on collision.

“Roll!” Carlie ordered, grabbing his jacket and twisting as hard as she could to the right, taking Sean with her into a spiral. Corkscrewing down the mountain, they rolled over and over, plunging and bumping ever downward.

Forced to shut her eyes to avoid ice, pebbles and forest debris, Carlie clung to Sean and prayed for a gradual stop. When they bounced into thin air, her stomach lurched.

They landed with a thud that tore them apart.

She slid on her side for an instant before she realized somehow she’d done a one-eighty-degree turn and now was pitching downward feet first.

Sean had also turned around and skidded below her. But the path had gone right. They both were falling straight toward a cliff so steep, she couldn’t even see where they would land.

With the last of her strength, she dug in her heels, slowing her momentum. But not enough.

Even worse, it appeared as if Sean had managed to stop his mad slide. She was about to run into him and knock them both to their deaths.

She tried to fling her body to one side, would have succeeded, but a hand clamped over her ankle, jerking her to a stop a mere ten feet before the cliff’s edge. For a full minute she just lay on her back, staring straight up into the darkening sky and appreciating her every breath.

Sean lightly squeezed her ankle. “You okay?”

“Just dandy.”

She took a mental inventory. Her hands and feet, knees and elbows all seemed to be in working order. She thanked her lucky stars they’d landed on one of the huge patches of ice and snow that clung to the mountain’s north face.

“You sure?”

“Oh sure, I’m fine. It’s just the usual boring day in the life of Carlie Brandon. I wake up to find I’m practically at the North Pole, two years of my life are missing and I’m married to a man I don’t recognize. As if that’s not enough to deal with, my darling husband accuses me of murder and then…for no apparent reason, he throws me off a cliff.”

“I had a reason.” He turned on his side to look at her, the husky timbre of his voice deepening.

“Care to share it with me?”

“A red circle of laser light centered on your temple.”

He’d thought someone was trying to kill her. “So you decided to save me by hurling me over a cliff. You couldn’t have told me to duck?”

His lips twitched at her sarcasm but his amusement never reached his gray eyes. “Someone was sighting a gun at your head. Ducking wouldn’t have taken you out of the line of fire.”

She frowned, tried hard to recall one tiny fact from the last two years that could give her a clue to who wanted her dead, but came up with zip. Instead, she concentrated on her current predicament. She hadn’t seen any red dot of light. “I didn’t hear a shot.”

He climbed to his feet and shook snow from his hair and collar. “That doesn’t mean someone wasn’t out to get you.”

She lay on her back looking up at him. Had he saved her life? Or recklessly endangered it? Since he’d gone down the mountain with her, placing his own life in jeopardy, she was inclined to believe him.

He reached down and helped her to her feet. His hand was warm, strong, gentle. But he released her as quickly if touching her flesh had burned him—another unhusbandlike gesture.

“I think whoever killed Jackson thought he killed you at the mine, too.”

“And when he discovered differently, he came back to finish the job?”

“Maybe.”

She suspected he’d deliberately softened his opinion so she wouldn’t freak, exhibiting a kindness she hadn’t suspected. But she was tough, a cop. She wouldn’t fall apart. Her legs were only shaking because they’d slid a gazillion feet and had almost gone over a cliff.

Yeah, right. And Alaskan bears were tame.

With their dark clothing against the white snow, they would make easy targets. She suddenly felt vulnerable on the mountainside. Where was the weapon she never let out of her sight?

She glanced over her shoulder and scanned the cliff above but saw no sign of movement in the evergreen trees. “We should take cover.”

Sean led her back toward the trail, staying clear of the dangerous areas and taking her onto a well-worn dirt path that curved gently across the terrain. “It’s possible someone was hunting deer or elk. Or just watching us through their scope and had no intention of firing.”

She shook her head, discounting the possibility. “You didn’t think so at the time or you wouldn’t have hurled us off the mountain.” She hurried after him, noticing he hadn’t let the gap between them get as big as before. “How many people in town have guns with laser sights?”

“You might as well ask how many people live in town. Everyone has guns. Or easy access to a weapon.”

She dusted the snow off her shoulders, wincing at a sore spot. “I’m focusing my suspicions on Roger, Tyler and Marvin. They are the only ones I’m aware of who know I’m alive and where we’re heading. Did they have enough time to reach town and circle back?”

“Tyler, and maybe Roger, could move that quickly. Marv is more comfortable at a poker table than in the woods.”

So the brother and Tyler were her prime suspects—not that she was crossing Marvin off her list. “The first thing I need to do is—”

“Rest. I want the doctor to look at that knot on your head.”

“I’m fine,” she protested, briefly wondering if doctors here made house calls. “But the longer I wait to question the suspects, the easier it’ll be for them to forget details or make up lies.”

“Maybe so. But I’m not traveling in the dark. So unless you plan to head into town alone…”

“WHERE’S THE PHONE?” Carlie asked before she’d even removed her Arctic parka.

No admiration for the cozy touches nearly foreign in the male-dominated Kesky. No appreciative comments over the homestead he’d worked an entire summer to build. He supposed he shouldn’t expect a woman to understand that while he’d cut western red cedar, notched logs and sanded the pine flooring, the mountain cabin had become as much a part of him as this glacier-fed wilderness paradise. His small diesel generator hummed, supplying all the electricity they needed. She had to point out the one convenience he couldn’t supply.

“I don’t have a phone.”

“What?” Her eyes widened, and unwilling to take his word, she stalked across the pine floor, ducked her head into the kitchen, paused, then marched into the bedroom to check for herself.

He shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the hook on the back of the door. He hung up her coat, too. Alaska was no place for a woman. The harsh winters didn’t agree with them. Sure, a few tough gals lived in Kesky, but there could be no denying that the long winters took their toll.

A memory of his mother, sick and shoveling snow, made him remember his promise to himself. He’d never ask a woman to stay with him. Especially not a woman accustomed to beaches and tropical heat.

And now he’d gone and done just that. He’d lied to Carlie, telling her they were man and wife. At the time, his lie had seemed the right thing to do. But now…

He considered telling her the truth.

She cleared her throat loudly. “You expect me to stay here without a phone?”

So much for telling the truth. She was already looking for excuses to leave and he’d be damned if he’d give her another one. He walked to the freezer, took out some ice, wrapped it in a towel and handed it to her. “Put this on that lump on your head and maybe the swelling will go down.”

“Thanks.”

She’d leave in a heartbeat if he didn’t give her a powerful reason to stay. Still, he hesitated. Jackson had brought him up better than to become a liar.