The Exhibition (An Executive Decision Trilogy) (10 page)

For a long time she just sat there, leaning against the wall, staring at the letter as though she could will it to go away. Then she fumbled in her bag for a nail file, picked up the envelope and opened it carefully. Folded in an expensive sheet of stationery was a check for two million dollars, made out as casually as if it had been only the money to pay for the dry cleaning. The little whimper that escaped her throat echoed in the empty hallway. She clasped her hand over her mouth and fought back tears. She wiped frantically at her eyes with the back of a hand so that she could read the note on the paper, then she took a deep breath.

You see, my darling Stacie, I know what you need. I’ve always known what you need even before you did. And now it’s time to let me take care of those needs. It’s time to let me ease the burden.

Very truly yours,

TJ

She stared down at the note, not really seeing it, the check held absently in one hand. Then she jolted into motion, scooping the rest of the contents of her bag back into the gaping maw and shoving the junk mail in on top of it. At the very top, she added the envelope from Jamison and its contents. Then she heaved herself to her feet and let herself into her apartment. Once she was safely locked inside, she shoved the bag onto the kitchen table and pulled out the letter and check. She read over it one more time. Then she pushed everything back into the envelope, scotch-taped it shut and wrote on the front in her most careful penmanship:
Return to Sender
.

Chapter Twelve

‘You look like you had a rough night in the hide,’ Garrett Thorne said as he handed Harris a cup of strong coffee and settled across from him at the picnic table on the patio behind his house. Harris was sure Kendra had encouraged more al fresco dining now that she lived with Garrett. She always did like a good picnic. But today Harris had deliberately timed his visit to talk to Garrett alone while Kendra was with her psychologist.

‘I was at the Boiling Point.’ He barely opened his mouth, half daring Garrett to tease him about it.

‘Right. With Stacie. How’d that go?’

‘Does no one ever mind their own business around here?’ Harris grumbled.

‘Nope, no one does, but as far as I was aware, that wasn’t a secret.’

When Harris said nothing, Garrett set down his coffee and offered him the look that said he was about to turn pit bull and have fun doing it. ‘So, what? Why do you look like you slept with the dogs and could bite the head off a rattlesnake?’

‘I don’t have a dog and there are no rattlesnakes in this part of Oregon.’

‘So?’ Garrett gave a shrug. ‘What, then?’

I … I didn’t behave very well.’

‘Oh, now that’s a shock,’ Garrett said, folding his arms across his chest. ‘What did you do?’

‘She really knows her stuff, doesn’t she?’

‘We already told you that she does. Now what did you do?’

Harris drummed his fingers on the table top and avoided Garrett’s gaze. ‘She doesn’t want to use my great wildlife shots. She wants to use my slash and burn photos – you know, clear-cuts, oil slicks, that sort of thing.’

‘And you didn’t want to do that? Garrett asked.

‘No! No, I wanted to. I think it’s a great idea. I was surprised she even knew about those photos.’

Garrett offered him a smirk. ‘Trust me, Harris, she probably knows about the photos you took with the first camera your parents bought you when you were a little boy.’

‘The woman does her research.’

‘She does. Yes. So what did you do?’

Harris looked down into his cup, still avoiding Garrett’s gaze. ‘The place got raided.’

Garrett threatened to choke on his coffee in a fit of laughter. ‘You’re shitting me. Sounds like an exciting night. So what happened?’

Harris offered a half-committed shrug. But Garrett was on a roll. ‘You two didn’t end up in jail, did you? I mean, I know Stacie doesn’t do drugs, and you – well, I’m always a bit surprised when you even have a beer.’

‘Fuck you,’ Harris growled.

Garrett gave an exasperated sigh, but even Harris could tell he was struggling to keep from smiling. ‘So what the hell happened? Why are you here when you knew full well Kendra wouldn’t be?’ He raised his arms as if to shove back any protest. ‘Hey, don’t get me wrong, I’m kind of getting used to you not hating me quite so much. But something major must have happened for you to seek out my company. Are you going to do the exhibition?’

‘I’m not even sure she’ll want me after last night.’

‘Harris, what the fuck happened?’

‘We … I … I mean, we didn’t plan it, and I would have never … I mean, she’s – well, you know what I mean. She’s … We were dancing, and then the police came, and then we were hiding in the ladies’ room and there was this wall and we climbed over it to get to the park and we –’

‘You had sex with her.’

Harris’ throat felt dry, and for the life of him he couldn’t remember how to speak. He swallowed hard and stared dumbly at Garrett, figuring this was the point where the man would clean his clock, and he absolutely deserved it. He did! Not only had he had sex with Stacie Emerson, but then he’d followed it up by being really rude and … Before he could prepare himself for the punch he figured was coming, he realized Garrett was shaking, violently. It took him a second, and a couple of snorting gasps from the man, to comprehend that it wasn’t anger that was making him shake. It was laughter! Fucking Garrett Thorne was laughing at him.

He squared his shoulders and sat up straight on the bench he’d been hunching over. ‘I don’t think it’s funny at all.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ Garrett raised a hand like he was erasing a chalkboard in an effort to negate his unwelcome outburst, but then gave another snort and dissolved helplessly back into laughter, grabbing at his wounded side and groaning in the middle of a belly laugh.’

Harris only glared at him.

‘I’m sorry, really I am.’ Garrett wiped tears from his eyes with the tips of his fingers and swallowed down another snigger. ‘But really, Walker, seriously. I could see that coming a mile away. We all could. I can’t believe you didn’t.’

‘What? You expected she’d try to seduce me and you didn’t say anything.’

‘Hold it, buddy. Hold it right there.’ His smile was completely gone, and the hard set of his jaw made him look like he could chew concrete. ‘I seriously doubt if Stacie tried to seduce you.’

Harris felt a hot blush flood his cheeks. ‘No. She didn’t.’

‘Didn’t think so. Not the Stacie I know, anyway. I’d imagine she’s as upset about the whole incident as you are right now. She wants you to do the exhibition for her really badly, and she’d never do anything to sabotage that, especially when –’ he gave a snort and half a snigger ‘– you hate her so much.’

‘I don’t hate her,’ Harris sputtered. ‘It’s just that –’

‘I know.’ Garrett was dead serious again. ‘You still blame her for what nearly happened to Dee and Ellis, and since I’m with Kendra, and she’s happy and safe, Stacie’s the only one left you can openly blame.’

Harris felt like he’d been slapped. ‘That’s not fair.’

Garrett held his gaze. ‘You’re right. It isn’t fair, but believe me, no one was happier about Dee and Ellis getting together than Stacie. It’s true, she can sometimes behave like a bumbling idiot when she catches the scent of possible romance. Hell, so can I. But she never, ever wanted anything but the best for the two of them. And something else you need to know, Walker: you’re not the only one around here capable of rendering serious bodily injury if someone hurts one of your friends.’

‘She’s your ex.’ Harris struggled to find his voice.

‘She’s my friend first, foremost, and always. And if you knew her at all, knew anything about her, you’d understand why Ellis and I stayed friends with her even after everything that happened, and why Dee and Kendra like her too.’

There was frosty silence. Then Garrett downed the last of his coffee and folded his hands on the table, still holding Harris in a hard glare. ‘Now, suppose you tell me exactly what happened, and I’ll decide if bodily injury is necessary.’

Just as Harris finished telling Garrett how he’d missed Stacie at the police station and hadn’t had the guts to call her, Kendra slipped through the French doors with a Diet Pepsi in hand. She gave Garrett an enthusiastic kiss on the mouth then offered Harris a bear hug that slopped her soft drink on the paving stones.

‘Hey, sweetie! What brings you to our neck of the woods?’ She gave his hair a mussing.

‘Harris had sex with Stacie,’ Garrett said.

Kendra gave a happy yelp followed by another bear hug and a near miss with her drink. ‘How was it? Good, I bet.’

‘You’ve got a big mouth, Thorne,’ Harris growled. Then there was no choice but to recap events that he found extremely embarrassing as the two listened – rather politely, all things considered. He had to admit to a very persistent Kendra that, indeed, it had been good sex. Without a doubt the best sex he’d ever had, but he didn’t tell her that.

At last Garrett spoke. ‘Stacie’s done her research, but it sounds to me like maybe you haven’t done yours, Harris. If you had, you’d know Stacie Emerson is a goddess in the art world because she did the impossible with the money pit that’s now New World Gallery, so much so she’s now opening New World Gallery West. And believe me, she totally deserves her reputation.

‘And just so you know; Stacie isn’t likely to let your bad behavior change her mind about wanting you to exhibit your work. She’s got to be used to your being rude to her by now, and she has a fairly thick skin. She has to have to be able to do what she does and do it so well.’

Harris didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. What could he say; that he was stupid for writing Stacie off as some relationship-breaking bimbo when everyone else respected her and liked her? Well, that pretty much went without saying, didn’t it? And really, the one he needed to be talking to right now was Stacie, not Garrett and Kendra.

Before he could do more than let out a soft “wow”, his Blackberry buzzed with an incoming text from his assistant over at
Wilderness Vanguard
wondering if he could approve her choice of photos for the article on migration they were running.

He texted her back to say any of the ones he’d left with her were fine. It was then he noticed an email from Stacie. Kendra and Garrett spoke practically in unison.

‘It’s a message from Stacie, isn’t it?’

Harris white-knuckled the BlackBerry to his chest, where his heart was now jackhammering wildly as Kendra practically leapt over the table to look over his shoulder. ‘Jesus, do you two take nosey lessons or is it just a natural talent?’

‘Well, in my case it’s a natural talent,’ Kendra said. ‘Don’t know about Garrett. Go on, read it. What does it say?’

He skimmed through the stilted
Dear Mr. Walker
part all business-like, feeling as though Stacie had reached through the device and gave him a hard slap. But then this was business, he reminded himself, and if she were anything like Garrett and Ellis said, she wouldn’t let last night’s fuck-up put her off. He couldn’t help noticing the email was sent in the wee hours. He could have called her then. He should have.

At a glance he could see the attachment. He’d give it some serious attention when he got home, and send her a proper response. Just when he thought she’d pretend nothing had happened he read her PS.

PS. I’m sorry for tonight’s mishaps. I apologize for my bad behavior and will do my best to conduct myself more appropriately in the future.

He fired back a response, typing with awkward fingers, oblivious to Kendra and Garrett trying to wheedle out of him what the message said.

Thanks for this, Stacie. I’m very intrigued by your proposal. As for last night’s bad behavior, you’re not the one who needs to apologize. Don’t know how many more mountain lions I can afford. Will try to behave myself in future.

Harris

‘Was it good news? It was, wasn’t it?’ Kendra said as Harris stuffed the device back into his pocket.

‘She sent a detailed proposal for the exhibition,’ he replied.

‘There, you see,’ Garrett said. ‘She doesn’t hate you and she still wants to work with you.’ Then he offered a crooked smile and a little shrug. ‘Well, at least she still wants to work with you.’

That fact alone made Harris way happier than he would have expected, when, only 24 hours ago, he just wanted the woman to leave him alone.

Chapter Thirteen

Stacie already regretted starting this little adventure so late in the day. She should have waited until tomorrow and started fresh. The weather was getting worse by the minute, and the road gradually muddier, but she was committed now. Really, Stacie knew better than to bring her leased Lexus up onto these logging roads. She was planning to get something a little more practical for off-road conditions, but she just hadn’t had the time yet, and when the rain set in, she was too close to her goal to turn back. She pressed on, tense in the seat, foot gently easing on and off the gas pedal with as much finesse as she could manage. OK, it wasn’t a lot, but it had been enough to keep her out of the ditch so far.

The knot in her stomach got bigger as she neared the site. She tried not to remember how it looked before. That would do nothing but make things more difficult, cloud her judgment with more anger, and there was already enough of that to deal with. She was seriously considering turning around without seeing what she’d come for when the wheels began to spin, and the car lurched sideways dangerously close to the embankment. An effort to gently reverse and ease around the slick, muddy patch resulted in a backward slide that left her crossways in the road and then nearly in the ditch. After that, no amount of effort would force the vehicle forward or back.

‘Damn it!’ She hammered her fist hard against the steering wheel and looked out the window into the deluge. Just as she turned off the engine to try and regroup, her BlackBerry signaled an incoming text. It was from Harris Walker and, in spite of herself, she smiled. He couldn’t afford many more mountain lions, he said. So he’d have to behave himself in the future.

She had to fight the urge to write back that she really didn’t mind him misbehaving. She liked that part, as long as he wasn’t rude. His rudeness hurt her pride. That she could live with, but it was the nerves he had inadvertently touched with his rudeness that hurt much worse. Still, he didn’t know that. She didn’t want him to know that. Ever. She texted back.

No more mountain lions necessary. Your apology is accepted.

On a lark, she sent him her GPS coordinates.
BTW, do you know this clear-cut?

She was immediately sorry she’d done it. This was not something she really wanted to share with him. His message came back almost instantly.

Yes. I know it’s horrible. One of the worst. Why?

His response made her wish even more that she hadn’t come. She replied.

I need to check it out. Not the best weather for it.

Now?
he asked.

She kept her answer much lighter than she was actually feeling at the moment.

No time like the present. Ditching the Lexus (LOL, I know. Must get a Jeep) for the walking boots and waterproofs. Will send pics.

She promised herself she’d take pictures, no matter how hard it was. She was convinced that this was something she needed to do. Now she wasn’t so sure. She stuffed the BlackBerry in the pocket of her Columbia and zipped it tight, then shoved her keys in the small rucksack. She pulled the hood of her jacket up and stepped out into the rain. This was the Northwest. She should have suspected what she might be getting into weather-wise when she headed out. No use dwelling on it. She was here now, and the Lexus wasn’t going anywhere so she might as well get on with it. She’d deal with getting the car unstuck when she got back.

Stacie headed up the logging road, slipping and sliding as she went. Thankfully it wasn’t windy or cold, which it easily could have been with fall rapidly bearing down on the Cascades. That meant she could concentrate on moving forward, one step at a time, which was about as much of an effort as she could manage in the mud. The rain let off slightly, then intensified again. The slope steepened, and inside the tight confines of the hood of her waterproof, she could hear the raspy in and out of her labored breath.

As she pressed one foot in front of the other it was impossible to hold back the flood of memories. The first time she read about the clear-cut, she had been researching Terrance Jamison, the man she and Zoe Hanson were in debt to, the man who was sometimes too good to be true and other times too frightening to even consider. She’d found the article in the archives of the
Oregonian
, and she had wept. She knew the place. She loved the place. She had watched the night sky there with the telescope she and her father had built together. She had drawn extensive pictures of the face of the moon there with the Thorne brothers, back when the true love of their lives was astronomy. And the man she was hopelessly in debt to, the man who frightened and aroused her and made her doubt everything she believed in her life, had destroyed it, and had already done so even before he offered her that first smile and handshake.

She’d had nightmares about the devastation for a long time after she’d discovered what had been done to the place; a place that had no special designation. They had always just called it Bald Hill. It was a bald mountain, really, with slopes covered in Douglas fir. The road wound along its wooded side in hairpin curves. It stopped much farther down the slope before the logging road was built. It had been quite a little hike to get themselves and the telescopes up the hill before sunset. Once there, they’d settle in for a meal of peanut butter sandwiches. They saved the Thermos of hot cocoa Dr. Thorne always furnished them with for later when it got colder and their fingers became uncooperative on the scopes and on their pencils and notebooks. And now that place existed only in her memory. She was vividly reminded of that when she rounded a sharp curve and found herself face to face with devastation she could barely believe. Oh, she’d seen clear-cuts before. Everyone who grew up in the Northwest had, but it had never been personal until this one. The extreme slope had rendered the whole area only slightly less than a mud slide. The logging road that she now stood on disappeared a few yards ahead of her in the washout caused by heavy rains and erosion. Ultimately, the whole slope above was sliding down the hill. Other than the high cut stumps and the remaining limbs and debris left from logging, the slope was bare, even after all this time. Water ran off in muddy rivulets stained reddish brown from the clay soil, which made it look disturbingly as though the slope itself were bleeding.

She thought she had known what to expect. She’d seen pictures. She’d read reports. She’d done all she could to prepare herself. But it wasn’t enough to prevent the cry of anguish that tore from her throat. Her stomach rolled with nausea and the devastation burst on her senses like an abscessed wound, driving her to her knees in the mud.

For an eternity, she knelt there in the mire blinking back tears, waiting to vomit, waiting to pass out from the pain of it, from the insult of it, from the mourning for what was lost. But when she didn’t retch, when she didn’t even weep, she fought her way to her feet and stood looking out over the ruined waste, and it was not the good memories of her childhood that washed over her, but memories of what had brought her to this place, and thoughts of why she had to see it for herself, why she needed to be here.

She stood until she felt as though she was no longer really there. She stood until she felt as though she was simply looking down on her body from a distance, from a place that had nothing to do with her childhood or her early days in New York or what was yet to come. She had waited for it, the separation, the place she had gone so often in those difficult times; the place where Stacie Emerson was untouchable. Being able to separate herself from all the pain, all the chaos, had helped her survive. It had been a long time since she’d needed to be outside herself, but she knew with certainty that she’d need to a lot in the weeks to come.

Calmly, she took her BlackBerry from her pocket and began to snap pictures as fast as she could. She maneuvered herself carefully out onto the remains of the road below the slope, all the while knowing full well that she shouldn’t, all the while in the back of her mind noting that the rain had steadily increased, that the muddy flow of water, which had come down in streamlets, was turning into raging torrents around her. She inched her way forward along the incline where the road had been, trying to gauge the size of the devastation. Without the familiar landmarks from her youth, it was hard to even tell where she was.

She practically stepped on something half stuck in the mud. She gave a little yelp of surprise, pulling her foot back just in time and nearly losing her balance in the process. There was little more than a skeleton left, ribs rain-washed and poking sharply from under what remained of a pelt of thick fur too muddied to help in identifying the unfortunate animal. A large rodent of some kind, Stacie guessed. She leaned forward to take closer shots.

As she did so, the piece of wood on which she was balanced gave under her weight and slid sideways. She teetered wildly, clutching at the BlackBerry for dear life. And though she managed to hang on to the device, thus saving the pictures she had taken, the wood snapped and sank farther, sending her tumbling end over end, BlackBerry clasped to her chest with one hand, the other outstretched to stop her slide. A rock poking from the soup of mud and rubble tore her waterproof trousers and took the skin off her knee as she fell. She managed to right herself and force her way to her feet, nearly belly-flopping in the mud again before she got her balance. Quickly, she slipped the BlackBerry into the zippered pocket and caught her breath. Her heart raced in her chest and blood roared in her ears. It took her a second to realize she’d walked much farther into the center of the devastation than she’d thought, and with the tumble and slide she could no longer see where she’d left the remains of the road. But all she had to do was keep the upside of the slope to her right, she told herself, and she’d work her way back to the car. She might not be able to get it unstuck, but she’d be dry and warm inside, and she might even have a Snickers bar or two in the glovebox. She’d be OK. Gingerly, she tested her knee. It was bleeding, but it was only an abrasion, and the knee itself didn’t seem damaged. When she was sure her brain hadn’t been scrambled and nothing was broken, she began a careful schlep back to the car.

The flat metal daylight was quickly closing in and morphing to something darker and more ominous. She had a flashlight in her backpack, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d checked the batteries. She’d just have to make it back to the car before dark. But no matter how focused her efforts, the going seemed a lot slower on the return journey. The rain had turned cold, and she was tired and sore from the fall.

She kept her head down against the wind that now blew the rain into her face like little pellets of ice. She was almost back to the road when she nearly ran into him, a man shrouded in camouflage, hood drawn tight against the weather, shadowing his face in the swiftly diminishing daylight.

Stacie’s insides knotted, and she felt as though her heart would jump from her throat. It wasn’t possible. Surely it wasn’t possible he’d found out, and even if he had, he wouldn’t come for her, but he might send someone, and that would be much worse. Fear clawed up her spine. She looked around frantically. Her only means of escape was across the devastation. She let out a wounded animal yell and turned to run, but the man was on her before she’d managed even a few steps.

With the rain hammering her face, she struggled blindly against his strength, jerking and shoving. But he grabbed her, pulling her to him in a hard embrace.

‘Stacie! Stacie, it’s me, Harris Walker.’ He pulled away from her just enough to look her up and down. ‘Jesus, woman, what did you do, roll in it?’

In the overwhelming flood of relief that followed recognition, she would likely have lost her balance and fallen backward if Harris hadn’t grabbed her. Embarrassed by her display of panic, she tried to calm herself. The laugh she offered was high-pitched and thin.

‘You could say that.’ Not wanting him to ask hard questions, she went with the obvious. ‘Did you get any pictures?’ She nodded at the muddied desolation.

‘Not this time. Come on, let’s get out of here. This whole slope could go any minute. There are flash flood warnings for the area, but I’m guessing you didn’t listen to the weather report.’

‘No. I didn’t,’ she yelled to be heard above the raising wind.

‘We gotta go,’ he said. ‘This is as good as it’s likely to get.’

That was the last they spoke until they slipped and slid their way back to the vehicles. ‘My car’s stuck. Can you pull me out?’ She nodded to the Lexus.

‘I’m serious, Stacie, we’re leaving. We can come back for the Lexus when the weather clears.’

She panicked. ‘No! I can’t leave it. Not here.’

‘Goddamn it, Stacie, this is serious business,’ he said. ‘We need to get out of here.’

‘I know how serious this is, and I’m telling you I don’t want my car left here.’

‘It’s just a lease. It’s not even yours.’ He grabbed her arm and tried to guide her toward the Jeep, but she pulled away.

‘I don’t want my car found here, all right.’ There! She’d said it. More than she wanted him to know, but having her car discovered here was a complication she couldn’t afford.

He shot her a look that felt both questioning and accusing, and then, without a word, threw back his hood and turned to assess the situation. At last he spoke. ‘All right, get in the car and start it.’

She did as he said and rolled down her window for further instructions.

‘You’re not really stuck,’ he said, ‘you’ve just got no traction. Put it in gear, and when I say, gently give it gas, slow and steady.’

‘What are you gonna do?’ she asked.

‘Take my life into my hands,’ he called over his shoulder as he moved to the back of the car to push.

His comment might have made her angry if she hadn’t agreed with him and if the whole situation hadn’t been over in less than 30 seconds with the car back in the center of the road.

Once again, he came to her window. ‘I’ll follow you until we get to the main road, just to make sure you make it OK, then you follow me to my house. You’re wet and cold and it’s a long way back into your place. Are we clear?’