Adam stood, looked down at her, and her knees felt weak. He spoke softly. “Have a good life. Just remember, I’ll be coming back here more often now.”
“I don’t think I’ll be back, but if I am...”
“Look for me?” When she didn’t answer his question, he added, “There is something that I need to ask you, though.”
She braced herself for any lie she had to tell to get out of there. “What’s that?”
“Who are you?”
She felt a rush of anxiety flood her senses. “Ex...cuse me?” she managed.
“If I come back, I need to know who to ask about. You never told me your name.”
Oh. If she could have done a backflip out of joy at such a simple question, she would have done it. But all she did was take a breath before answering him. “Faith.”
“Faith,” he murmured, that smile flitting at the corners of his mouth. “Faith.”
She nodded and moved past him to get to the door.
She stepped out onto the street, turned abruptly to go and noticed at the first corner she came to that she’d gone in the wrong direction to get to the inn. She could see Manaw’s garage two blocks ahead. She felt too unnerved to care at that moment and just kept going until she got to the next corner. She darted a look behind her.
Adam was nowhere to be seen.
Who are you?
he’d asked. The words had contained as much force as a physical punch.
She pulled her jacket more tightly around her, kept going and circled back at the end of the block to pass a mixture of trailers, houses and bare land. Then she took another street that led to the main drag and came out a block beyond the inn.
She glanced up and down the street, and when she didn’t see a tall man in a leather jacket and a black Stetson, she rushed as best she could over the frozen snow toward the porch. In the few seconds it took her to get to the inn’s door, she realized something had changed. She took in the empty space where her car had been parked.
Dent had come faster than she’d hoped, and she felt a degree of excitement, until she remembered she hadn’t only locked her keys in the car. There was also her purse, her computer, her travel bag and everything in the glove compartment, too. She stood very still and fought the urge to scream at the top of her lungs.
* * *
A
DAM
REMAINED
AT
the coffee shop for a long time, staring at Faith’s barely touched pastry and mug of coffee. Faith. He stood slowly, tugged on his Stetson. “So that’s that,” he breathed to himself as he did up his jacket and headed for the door.
The street was almost deserted in that quiet time between breakfast and lunch. Only a few people were on foot, and not one of them was Faith. Then he saw a police cruiser pull in next to his truck near Jack’s office. John got out, his sunglasses firmly in place as he scanned the street, then spotted Adam and waved to him.
Adam jogged over to him as he leaned back against the cruiser, arms crossed on his chest. “Heard you were out and about. I thought your folks would have you tied up with the party preparations.”
Adam grinned at the absurdity of John’s supposition. The party was, and always would be, entirely his mother’s. His father tolerated it, and the boys, who had loved it as kids, only showed up sporadically as adults. But for the first time in a long time, he was almost looking forward to it. “Mom’s practically living in the main barn overseeing the staging.”
“She loves it,” John pointed out. “And my kids are chomping at the bit to get there.”
“Where are you heading now?” Adam asked.
“I was looking for you. Your dad said you’d gone to town first thing. Thought I’d find you around here.” He inclined his head in the direction of Jack’s office.
Adam had come in early for breakfast with an old friend who ran a diner on the far end of town, then he intended to stop by to see Jack and make amends for his words the night before. But between the breakfast and finding Jack, he’d found Faith. “Why were you looking for me?”
“I have something to discuss with you. Didn’t want to do it over the phone.” His eyes narrowed as he spoke. “Nothing life-and-death, but important.”
“What?” Adam asked, curious.
John motioned to the cruiser. “Get in and we’ll drive while we talk. An extra patrol car on the streets is a good thing around the holidays.”
When John steered the cruiser out onto the street in the direction of the road to the res, Adam finally asked, “What’s going on?”
John didn’t beat around the bush. “Jack. He called me first thing this morning to let me know he was on his way to the airport because he’s leaving for a week or so.”
Adam turned and stared at his friend. “What? I was talking to him last night and he didn’t mention a thing about going anywhere. In fact, he was saying he had a lot of work coming up and he’d be tied up until after Christmas.”
“Well, he got untied,” John said in his usual blunt manner.
“Where’s he going?”
“Northwest, up to Washington State.”
Suddenly, everything made sense to Adam. “He’s going to see Robyn’s brother?” Robyn had been a twin and she’d been very close to her brother, Robert, even after he’d relocated to the Seattle area a year before Robyn’s accident. Robert and his wife had a son, Trace, and Robyn had been crazy about the child. The last time Adam had seen Robert and his wife, Isabel, had been at the funeral.
“Yes,” John said, his eyes focused on the street ahead of them. “He said he needs to talk to Robert, and he’s got some Christmas gifts for Trace, and he wanted to give them to him personally.”
That was all well and good, except that Jack had called John to let him know what he was going to do. Not his family. “Why did he call you?” he asked.
“Didn’t say, but my guess is he didn’t want an argument.”
That made sense after last night. He exhaled and looked out at the passing stores and homes. “Maybe it will help for him to be there,” he said, more to himself than to John.
As John replied, “Exactly,” Adam’s attention was distracted when he spotted a blue car parked about a half block ahead of them. He sat up a bit, then sank back when the plate was in state and not from Illinois. “Problem?” John asked, following his line of sight.
“No, no problem,” Adam said. “Just saw a car I thought I recognized.” They were passing the hospital and the Family Center next to it, a place that offered help to local children who had special learning or physical needs. But there were no more cars that looked familiar.
“That car you stopped on our way here?” Adam asked.
“What about it?”
“The lady in it?”
John just nodded.
“What was her name?”
John frowned, scratched his chin for a second. “Faith Arden, I think. Why?”
“Address?”
John frowned again. “Why?”
“No reason,” he muttered as he adjusted his Stetson.
“Don’t remember beyond Illinois,” John said.
He almost made a sarcastic comment, but kept it to himself. It wasn’t John’s fault that the woman was an enigma. It was a fact of life that people often didn’t come into your life at the right time. Faith had come into his life abruptly and left just as quickly. It obviously wasn’t the right time for her and him. And that was life.
CHAPTER FIVE
F
AITH
GOT
HER
THINGS
back from Dent soon after he’d taken her car, but two days later she was still stuck in Wolf Lake. She’d been able get the same room at the inn from an obliging Mallory, and she was thankful for it. It was quiet and peaceful, so much so that Faith was consistently sleeping through the night, despite the state of her broken-down car.
Dent was really struggling to figure out why her wiring shorted out and burned through most of the connections. But he was methodically trying to redo the wiring and fix the other problems it had caused.
Still, she was thankful that she had no nightmares to remember, no waking up early, and less and less of that sense of dread that she’d known since leaving Chicago. She stayed in her room most of the time, reading newspapers, watching TV or going through the files. She left for food and for newspapers, and went right back. So far, it had been working out perfectly for her. She hadn’t seen Adam again, which she knew she should be grateful for, and she was barely being noticed by the locals. As soon as her car was working again, she’d leave, but until then, she was starting to feel almost safe. She hadn’t made the news as anything other than a modifier, as in “the daughter of...”
In jeans, a loose white shirt, her boots, and holding her jacket and wallet, she left for her usual morning coffee and newspapers. When she got back to the inn, Mallory would be there, as she had been the other mornings, and she’d scold Faith for not making use of her continental breakfast. They’d sit and chat a bit before Faith headed back up to her room. They were surprisingly comfortable conversations, pleasant breaks for Faith before she returned to her solitude.
She’d learned quite a bit about Mallory. That they were a year apart in age, Mallory being older, that Mallory had been married but was widowed two years go. She ran the inn pretty much by herself, didn’t date at all, thought she never would again and Willie G. was the closest thing she had to a father. He was her uncle on her mother’s side. Thankfully, Mallory didn’t pump Faith for personal details beyond what she offered.
Fifteen minutes later, she was back at the inn with coffee, pastries and two newspapers. Faith had barely gone inside before a door upstairs opened and closed, and she heard voices. The man from Texas in the room down the hall from hers had been replaced with a couple from Phoenix. Faith retreated into the sitting area as the man and woman came down, talking about getting “a good look at the reservation,” and then promptly left.
Faith heard footsteps right before the swinging door behind the counter opened. She turned to smile as Mallory appeared, and for the first time since she’d met the woman, there was no smile in return. Mallory looked upset. “Oh, Faith,” she said, “good morning. Sorry, I...got distracted and didn’t hear you leave or come back.”
Faith wanted to pretend she wasn’t aware of her distress, but she couldn’t. Mallory was the only person she really spoke to, and she had been more than kind to Faith. “Is there something wrong?”
Mallory shook her head and let out a heavy sigh. “No, not really, but... I don’t know.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” She couldn’t believe she was asking that. The same words from Adam that second day had terrified her, and they jeopardized her firm promise to herself to not get involved. But that didn’t stop Faith from motioning to the chairs by the hearth where they usually sat to talk. Mallory nodded and crossed to sink into one of the chairs. Faith put her stuff on the table nearby, then sat and waited.
Mallory seemed to be having difficulty knowing what to say, and Faith gave her time. Then she took a breath and leaned toward Faith slightly. “I’m not sure what to do about something. I’m just confused, and I can’t believe that I’m so confused, but I need to talk, if it’s okay.”
That question was Faith’s way out, but as she felt tension start in her neck, she knew she couldn’t beg off now. So she sat calmly until a terrible thought struck her. Could Mallory know who she really had as a guest at her inn? Faith had let herself think she was safe here. Maybe she’d been wrong. Her hands were clenched in her lap, and she fought to make the next words sound as casual as possible. “You...can tell me anything,” she said, barely controlling her emotions.
When Mallory finally spoke in a rush of words, Faith was shocked at how wrong she’d been. “There’s this huge party that a prominent family in town gives every year around Christmas. It’s huge. It’s in this massive barn that’s nicer than some homes, and there’s dancing and music and...” She hugged herself and Faith could see she was either shaking or she was shivering. Either way, she seemed unsteady. “I haven’t gone for a few years. I...I think I want to go this year—however, I really don’t think I should.”
Faith was light-headed with relief. “You...you should go, if you want to go.”
“I wish it was that simple. I told you about Henry. He’s been gone two years now.” She shook her head. “We used to go every year, ever since we were kids. But since he passed, I couldn’t do it, not by myself. What would people think? That I’m out there having fun and Henry...” She frowned. “Oh, I’m not looking for sympathy. It’s just, I want to go, but I feel so guilty. And everyone around here that’s my age is married or dating.” She crossed and then uncrossed her legs. “I don’t want to date or anything. I simply want to go to the party.” She looked ready to cry. “But I can’t. It’s not right, I know that, and I’m being stupid to think about it, but it’s Christmas and...” She bit her lip and let the sentence fade.
Faith felt Mallory’s sadness like a boulder on her chest. “Surely it would be okay for you to go,” she finally said. “You’re young, and Henry wouldn’t want you to be sad, would he? He loved you, and when you love someone, you want them to be happy, no matter what.”
Mallory’s eyes welled up. “Henry loved me, and I love him.” Faith didn’t miss the present tense when Mallory talked about her love for her dead husband. “But I can’t do it alone, and there’s no one to ask.” She flushed slightly. The color in her face deepened and she stood. “I know, I’m babbling. I’m so sorry.”
Faith’s resolution to keep her distance was crumbling. Bad enough Mallory was widowed, but to not even go to a Christmas party? “You really can’t go alone?”
Mallory shook her head. “It’s different around here. Everyone grew up together, and most are couples. It’s a third-wheel kind of thing, and it makes people uncomfortable. And they all knew Henry. I’m just being silly,” she said.
“Where is this place?”
“It’s at the Carson ranch, a massive spread just outside of town. The party’s in the barn, as I said, and it’s like fantasyland come true. Henry used to say it was like visiting the Land of Oz, it was so wonderful. There’s a ton of food, and the music is by local bands. The family does this every year for the town—they’re such great people.” There was a shadow of a smile back on her lips as she got lost in the description. “The kids get gifts and there’s entertainment for them, and Santa, of course.”
Faith didn’t know where it came from, but without giving herself time to think about it too much, she asked, “How long would you stay if you went to the party?”
Mallory seemed confused by the question. “Well, as long as I wanted to, I guess. I mean, people come and go all evening.”
“When is it?”
“Tomorrow evening at six.”
Faith wasn’t a Good Samaritan, not a rescuer of any sort short of her finding a lost kitten when she was six years old. Her dad had let her keep it, and it had run away a week later. But Mallory seemed more lost than any kitten. “Mallory?” she said, shocked at what she was going to do. “What if I went with you?”
Mallory stared at her. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, my car’s still in the garage, but if we can go, have a look around, then leave, it would be okay.”
“Oh, yes, yes. I can. We can,” she said breathlessly.
Faith stood, wondering what had possessed her to do this. But one look into Mallory’s eyes, where hope was starting to grow, told her all she had to know. In and out. Lose herself in the crowd, then leave as soon as she could. “Okay, we have a date.” Then she qualified it. “As long as my car’s still dead and Dent doesn’t have it fixed by then.”
The hug was unexpected, but genuine. Mallory looked ecstatic when she drew back. “Thank you so much.” She turned and picked up the items Faith had bought at the store. “I can’t believe this,” she said on a sigh as she headed upstairs, leading the way to Faith’s room. “I mean, this is wonderful. You’re wonderful. The party will be wonderful. It’s not really fancy at all. Nice jeans and a blouse, or a dress, but nothing too much. If you don’t have anything to wear, I’ll go shopping with you, if you like?”
Enough was enough. “I’ve got something to wear,
if
we go,” she told her. “Just let me know what time.”
“You bet,” Mallory said. “It‘s going to be wonderful.” Then she was gone.
“If my car’s not ready!” But Mallory never heard those words.
Faith went to the desk and flopped into the chair facing the computer. She had little hope of anything wonderful materializing at a party in a barn surrounded by strangers, but she’d make good on her promise. Still, she chastised herself as she opened her coffee. It was tepid now and not worth drinking. And she was going to a party.
* * *
A
DAM
WAS
RIGHT
in the middle of the madness. The barn, a network of stalls and tack rooms, all built around an expansive center section sixty feet square, had been transformed with tinsel and lights. A massive Christmas tree, a dance floor with a stage raised for the musicians, and a giant spread of food and drinks completed the picture.
People had been arriving for the past hour, and couples were already dancing. Kids were being entertained by elves and a Santa who looked more like Santa than Santa did. There was laughter and music and good people Adam had known most of his life. He wandered around, speaking to folks and being pleasantly surprised that he was enjoying himself even though, usually, he wasn’t a fan of crowds. Until he spotted his mother speaking to some kids near Santa Claus.
That brought Adam up short. He had asked John not to say anything about Jack leaving for Washington State, to let him tell her and his father. She’d been so busy, and he wanted to tell her at the right time. But the moment never seemed to happen. He had to let her know soon. She’d be expecting Jack at the party. He knew he should do it now, but he couldn’t, not when his mother was happily greeting another family, the smile on her face radiant. He walked off in the other direction. He’d tell her about Jack soon.
He glanced around at all the people, and yet he had a feeling of isolation. His family gave this party. This was his childhood home. But he was alone. Why? Because he liked it that way, he thought. He’d always wanted it that way. However, it didn’t seem true anymore. He ached to have a beautiful woman in his arms, inhale her sweetness and move slowly to the music with her.
He turned, trying to think of something to do to stop this introspection, and couldn’t believe his eyes. He blinked. There, across the dance floor, in the wide archway, stood Faith Arden.
Faith, as delicate-looking as he remembered in slim black pants, a clingy white silk shirt and her halo of dark curls, hadn’t left Wolf Lake. A throng of people shuffled between them, and he was too far away to see her eyes, but he remembered their deep blue color.
She stood out, maybe only to him, but with everyone around her laughing, talking and singing, she looked like an island of sadness in the midst of it all. She’d either lied to him about leaving, or something had made her stay in Wolf Lake. He didn’t want to think she’d lied to get rid of him.
He kept sight of her as he wended his way through the milling crowd, past the dancers, then he saw her close her eyes for a moment, turn and look around as if she was searching for an escape. She found it. The doors to the west end of the barn were right behind her and she slid one back a bit. When he was within ten feet of her, she disappeared through the narrow opening.
He kept going. He eased the doors open and left the glitter and music for the more subdued light and sounds of the sprawling wing. He stopped just inside. Faith was nowhere in sight and for one crazy moment he thought he’d conjured up her image out of nothing. A soft sigh came out of the blue and he turned to glance down one aisle of stalls.
Faith was very real, with her head bowed, her hands gripping the top railing. The sight caught him off guard. The rise and fall of her slender shoulders, her pale neck and white knuckles from holding on so tightly. He almost turned and left, embarrassed to be there, but he couldn’t go. Something was wrong. He couldn’t just leave.
Adam cleared his throat, and at the sound, Faith straightened and faced him, the surprise in her blue eyes intense. Right then, he knew as clearly as he knew the sun would rise in the east tomorrow that she was in trouble and, just as clearly, that he wanted to help her. Her expression shifted from shock to uncertainty and caution. There was no trace of a smile touching her full lips.
He tried to smile, while admitting to himself that, despite being off work and out of uniform, he was still a cop. He went closer, and he caught a hint of her delicate perfume.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.
“I didn’t expect anyone to be back here.”
He took a step toward her. “I didn’t expect you to still be in Wolf Lake, much less at this party. I thought you were long gone.”
“I was supposed to be,” she said a bit breathlessly. Her drink sat on the top of the wooden stall. “Things changed, but I’ll be leaving soon.”
Before he could respond, the sliding door was pulled aside and Adam twisted around to see a security guard poking his head into the barn. “Oh,” he said, his eyes flicking over the two of them. “So sorry. Just worried kids might have been in here getting up to no good.”
“It’s fine,” Adam told him.
“Yes, sir,” the man said and he quietly closed the door.