Shadow's Lady (A Pajaro Bay Cozy Mystery + Sweet Romance) (10 page)

"How about some breakfast, pup?" she asked. The dog whined, so she let him out the door, and he scampered off to sniff all the damp bushes.

She glanced outside. Even stressed as she was, the view still took her breath away. The sea churned endlessly to the horizon. Up close, the twisted cypresses created an arch, framing a single fishing boat chugging through the roiling waves.

Escape.

She grabbed a dishcloth and ran outside, the door banging shut behind her.

She waved the white cloth over her head, back and forth, again and again until her arms ached.

Finally she saw the boat turn toward her. She watched it come closer.

A green stripe on its hull. It was one she'd seen before. She felt relief wash over her. That was the Nunes boat. Owen Nunes and his son Zane. Owen was a big, burly guy who, not surprisingly, always smelled of fish when he visited, and Zane was a talkative twelve-year-old with sunbleached hair and a quick smile.

A big, burly guy was just the man for this job. Owen could get her guest down to the dock a lot more quickly than she'd been able to haul him up to the house. The sooner he was off her island the better.

Her hands were so sweaty she couldn't turn the knob on the storm porch door. She wiped her hands on the dishcloth and tried again. She was a wreck. But she'd done it. She'd survived on an island with a killer, and he was none the wiser. Now the fisherman could give them a lift to shore so she could get a shiny new cell phone, and the Shadow could get a shiny new gun or whatever men like that went shopping for. And he would never know how she really felt.

She entered the kitchen and wondered what to say, how to tell that man he could go away now and stop bothering her. To say it in some polite way that didn't even hint that she knew what he really was. To say it in a way that didn't let him know that she'd seen through the manipulation of a charming, clever, evil man. To never let him know what a blow to her self-confidence it was to realize she'd instinctively trusted at first sight a man whose hobbies were extortion, torture and murder.

She opened her mouth to call him, but just then something grabbed her from behind, twirling her body around and pinning her arms to her sides.

It was him, of course. But not the man she'd seen for the last two days.

He was the Shadow, a monster with pure animal fury glittering in his eyes as he whispered, "You let them in and I'll kill you."

She believed him. He had the look of someone who could kill. Not that she'd ever seen a killer before, of course. But this was someone who'd faced death. He wasn't play-acting to scare her.

He shook her arms, bruising her. He looked so pale she would have felt sorry for him if he wasn't threatening her. Something was really wrong with him.

"Do you understand me?" he asked. His voice was so raspy she could barely hear him.

"No," she said. "I don't have a clue what's wrong with you." She pushed him away, and he let go of her arm. "I thought the whole idea was to get you off this island."

The bruise hurt, and she rubbed it. Some expression flashed across his face—confusion? regret?—but it was quickly covered by his threatening look.

She dashed to the door. He made a grab for her, but wasn't quick enough, and he went sprawling onto the floor.

Finally the doorknob turned and she threw the door open. "You need a doctor. Wait here." She ran outside, and didn't stop to see if he was following.

237 steps carved into the sandstone cliff led down to the dock. That info was going into the tourist brochures, too, but she had no time to stop and appreciate the dizzying view of the sea. Down the steps two at a time, all the while praying she didn't trip.

Owen had just tied up. He was walking slowly up from the dock when she barreled into him at full speed.

He helped her up.

"Owen! Can you give me a ride to shore?" It came out in one breathless gasp, and she wasn't sure he heard her, so she repeated the question, more slowly.

"Um," he began slowly. "I'm not going in to shore now. What's wrong?"

"Can I use your radio, then? My phone's broken."

She didn't wait for his response, but dashed across the dock to the boat.

"Ms. York! Wait! What's wrong?" he called after her.

Zane, his shaggy hair flying in the wind, helped her aboard.

"What's happening?" he asked.

She headed toward the cabin. "The radio's down here, right?" she asked, trying to remember the details from the grand tour the father and son team had given her before.

For a moment she could see nothing in the dark cabin. She groped around, waiting for her eyes to adjust. There it was. She picked up the short-wave radio microphone and pressed the button on the side.

"Hello, hello," she said. No response.

"You have to let go of the button when you stop talking," Zane explained.

"Oh. Thanks."

"It's set to channel 16—the emergency channel. You should change channels if you're trying to call shore."

She let go of the button.

"...Coast Guard Cutter, asking you to repeat your message," a voice crackled over the speaker. "Identify your vessel and location."

She pressed the button.

"This is Lori York. At the Pajaro Light Station. I have a wounded man here and need someone to come get him."

"A what?" Zane asked.

"A what?" the voice said over the speaker.

She pressed the button. "A wounded man. Matt DiPietro. He's been in an accident and I need help."

"He's here?" Zane said. His eyes were wide. "The Shadow himself?"

There was silence from the radio for a moment, then a new, female voice came on.

"Ms. York. This is Lieutenant Rogers. You remember me—Sam. I'm in charge of the lighthouse maintenance crew that visited the light station a few days ago." Lori remembered her: the tall, athletic-looking officer who had hauled away the last dead harbor seal Lori had found. She had felt like such a fool blubbering about dead animals to this forceful, take-charge young woman, but Lieutenant Rogers hadn't seemed to mind. "Please repeat your last message," she said. "Did you say Matt DiPietro is there at the light station?"

Apparently his reputation even extended to the Coast Guard. "Yes! Yes. He's here, but he fell out of his kayak and he's been hurt. Can you help?"

"He fell out of his kayak? Um, okay. We're on our way."

Lori set the microphone down.

"He fell out of his kayak?" Zane asked.

"Yeah. That's his story, anyway."

"Here, you better sit down." He pushed a pile of junk off a padded bench and she sank into it.

She noticed that he'd piled the junk onto a big, two-seater yellow kayak on the cabin floor.

"Do you kayak?" she asked.

"Why?" He frowned.

"I was just wondering. Why would a criminal like him be out kayaking in a storm?"

Zane shrugged. "It's fun. I learned it at summer camp. My dad doesn't see why I want to have a kayak. He says if you've got to spend all your time working on a boat, why would you want to go out just for fun, but—"

"But you talked him into it," she said.

"Yeah." He grinned. "Now I have my own kayak and I can do it any time I want to. Now my dad can't say no anymore."

Lori tried to picture an intense, driven man like Matt heading out for a morning paddle. She honestly didn't know him well enough to know if that was in character or not. She realized during all their talks he had told her almost nothing about himself. He'd talked about books, and he'd asked her a lot of questions, but she knew nothing more about him than she had when he'd washed ashore.

She remembered the crazed, murderous look in his eyes just a few minutes ago. Whatever his secrets were, he was up to no good.

Zane knelt down next to her. "You look terrible."

She pulled herself back from the frightening image of the Shadow. "Thanks, kid."

"No, I mean...." His face flushed. "You look real pretty—like your aunt did in the movies. I just meant you look like you saw a ghost or something."

He was watching her with that earnest, please-like-me expression only a twelve-year-old boy could muster. She smiled at him. "Thanks, Zane. I know what you meant. I do feel like I've seen a ghost. That man—" She shuddered. He could have killed her. All the fear she'd been trying to hold back for two days seemed to hit her at once, and she found she could no longer control her shaking.

"It's okay," Zane soothed. "Let me get you a glass of water, okay?"

"No. I'm all right. I just need some fresh air." She stood up on wobbly legs. "Can you help me up on deck?"

He took her by the arm, and they made their way topside.

"The Coast Guard's on the way," Zane said to his dad, who had just come aboard.

"What?" Owen looked shocked. "Are you hurt, Ms. York?"

She shook her head. Zane helped her to the rail. She gripped it tightly and looked down at the white waves breaking against the hull. The heavy boat rolled gently and she held on tightly to the rail and listened to the steady sounds of wood creaking, rope scraping against the piling and waves slapping the hull. The steady rhythms helped her take deep breaths and calm herself.

Behind her the boy explained to his father about the wounded Shadow and the Coast Guard on its way. "And there they are," Zane said, pointing out to sea, where a little coast guard boat chugged toward them at full speed. And just coming into sight over the horizon was the bright orange helicopter.

"The Shadow brings 'em running, don't he?" Owen muttered.

"Thank God," Lori whispered. Her nightmare was over.

•••

He'd hurt her. He'd hurt little Lori. The thought echoed through Matt's confused brain over and over. He had woken up from a nightmare to see her signaling to some boat, and he'd imagined that she was leading his enemies to him.

How could he forgive himself? The terror in her eyes had broken through his confusion and he'd realized his dreadful mistake. But it was too late. She hated him. She feared him. She would never trust him.

So many innocents hurt by his recklessness. He almost wished the bullet had stopped him. But he had to go on. He had work to do. He had to keep the people he loved safe. Even if they hated him.

"DiPietro!" A female voice shouted, and he almost thought it could be Lori, but it wasn't. It was another voice, familiar.

"Come out, DiPietro." The voice was closer, and soon through the door came a grim-looking Coast Guard officer.

Lieutenant Samantha Rogers knelt down next to him. "Wow, Matt, what's happened to you?" she whispered.

"Hey, Sam," he whispered. "I ran into a bit of trouble. But Lori took good care of me."

"He's in bad shape," she said to someone behind her. "Go get the medical kit." Then she bent down closer and whispered, "What happened to you?"

"Bullet grazed me," he said.

"How'd it happen?"

"Someone popped me when I was kayaking, and I swam here."

"Did you see who it was?"

He shook his head.

"Shhh," she whispered back. "Don't say a word. We've got company right outside. We'll get you out of here."

She stood up as another Coastie came in. They soon had him on his feet and out the door.

Outside he sat down on the porch steps, and soon found himself the center of a crowd of spectators—the Coast Guard crew, Lori (Shadowfax close by her side), and Owen Nunes and a young boy. He hadn't seen Owen since high school. It must have been his boat Lori had waved to.

"Owen," he whispered.

Owen stared at him, then looked away, embarrassed.

Poor Owen. Matt was getting used to that look from long-lost friends. Shock. Horror. Rampant curiosity.

"Um, if you don't need me, officer?" Owen said to Sam.

"We've got it under control, Mr. Nunes. Thanks for your help."

Owen left with the boy, who must be his son. Owen carefully avoiding looking at Matt, but the boy stared at him until they were out of sight.

"Bye, old friend," Matt whispered.

"I hear you're a hero, Ms. York," Sam was saying to Lori. "Mr. DiPietro here tells us you took good care of him."

"What's going to happen to him now?"

"You don't need to worry about him. We'll get him the medical attention he needs—once we're through questioning him. He still has a bit of explaining to do." Sam threw him a glare. "We don't need your kind of trouble around here, DiPietro."

Matt dutifully glared back at her. If only they could drop this charade and he could tell Lori who he really was. But one whisper of the truth and the town rumor mill would go into overdrive. Soon everyone in town would know that Matt DiPietro was an undercover agent. And that would be the end of his chance to solve this case.

Lori watched him warily, but there was something in her eyes—sympathy? pity? Maybe it was only curiosity, the same curiosity everyone showed toward the Shadow.

"Would you like a lift to shore?" Sam asked her. "It's not safe for Sandy to come out here in these seas."

"Yeah, I'd like a lift," Lori said. "If it's not too much trouble. I think I'd like to stay in town with my aunt for a couple of days."

That had been his goal when he'd come out here—get her to leave the island. So why did it feel now like he'd lost something?

"Understandable," Sam said. "I imagine you've had quite a scare."

"Yes," Lori said. She didn't look at him. "But I'm fine now. Can you wait while I get a couple of things?"

"Sure. Don't rush. We'll put DiPietro on the chopper. You can come down to the dock as soon as you're ready."

Lori stood over him. He looked up, hopeful, but she just said, "what do you want to do with your dog?"

"Shadowfax likes you. Why don't you keep him," he said.

Still that wary look from her, as if she sensed deception somewhere, but couldn't pin it down. He wasn't being deceptive. He had no emotions at all about this situation. He just had a useless dog that was getting in his way, and he needed to dump it on somebody.

"You two seem to be getting along," he said to her. He looked down at the dog. Why was he feeling so mushy all of a sudden? "Shadowfax can keep you company out here. He could come in handy."