moment, but it might spoil if it’s left there too long.”
“Thanks. I’ll go move it.” I laid down the chainsaw, dusted my hands on the seat of my pants and headed off to the cabin. I was surprised to see that she’d followed me.
“How are you for fruit and tomatoes? I’ve got loads with me if you need more.”
“I’ve got plenty, thanks. The milk and bread will do me fine. I might go up to Ben’s later. He mentioned that someone was holding a barbecue.”
Shut up, Valdiva. I realized I was talking too much. I was cooking up excuses I didn’t need.
Mel still didn’t leave.
She’s seen Michaela somehow.
The smile on my face felt more unreal by the second. “Can I get you anything, Mel?”
She glanced back at the truck. I saw a young guy there. I didn’t know him, but I’d seen him and Mel hand-in- hand a week or two back. Her latest flame, I guessed. He was also a pal of Crowther junior-the man who tried to rearrange my features with a hunk of firewood. Sweat trickled between my shoulder blades.
What’s more, Mel wore a sudden secret smile. “Mel?” I prompted, wondering what was coming next.
“Greg.” Her voice dropped. “This is something you don’t want to go spreading around…”
She knows about the outsider in my cabin. “Just between us, Greg, I’ve grown a beautiful crop of grass. Do you want some? I’ve got a little of the first cut in the truck.”
Jesus. I thought she knew everything about Michaela, and all she was doing was pushing some homegrown narcotic. I shook my head, smiling with relief. She probably thought I was grinning like a loon.
“No, thanks, Mel,” I said.
“Go on, just take a little as a gift.” She leaned toward me, her eyes glittering. “You need something to help you to relax… you know, after what happened to Lynne.”
“I’m fine,” I told her in an honest-to-goodness friendly way. “Thanks, but I’m just going to get stuck into my work. That’ll help best of all.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure, Mel. Thanks again. I appreciate it.”
At last she went back to the truck. I watched her boyfriend fire up the engine and drive her away. She sounded the soul of compassion, the embodiment of neighborliness. But I recall she was one of the first to put a brick on Lynne’s chest. Funny old world, huh?
That afternoon a few more people dropped by. Old man Crowther with a request for more firewood. I’d drop it off, I said. No, he said, he’d be obliged if he could take some right then, as he’d run clean out; his brother had caught a batch of fish; they were going to eat them while they were fresh. Blah, blah, blah. So I carried bundles of wood to his shiny Lexus and put them in the trunk. Miss Bertholly called. We regret what happened on Monday, was the gist of what she said, but we live in extraordinary times that call for extraordinary measures to maintain our security and our safety. So, please, Mr. Valdiva. No hard feelings. We want to embrace you into our community.
… Blah, blah, blah.
Then Mr. Gerletz trundled by to make sure his boats were all present and correct. I thought he’d check the lone battery cruiser tied to the jetty just down from my cabin, but he lumbered by in that old pickup of his. Almost immediately after that came my twice-weekly delivery of two-stroke for Big Bertha. Gordi Harper always wore a checkered shirt like a jacket over his regular shirt, even on the hottest of days. And this was a warm one. He rolled the drum of two-stroke into the tool-shed, took out the empty, then rolled it back to his truck. He waved. I waved back.
As each visitor left I shot a look up at the bedroom window, hoping so hard it hurt inside that I wouldn’t see Michaela’s face in the frame. But she had a powerful streak of survival. The blinds stayed shut. She must have lain there all day, not moving, just in case a movement of air disturbed a blind or a telltale-tit creak of a floorboard might give her away.
I cut more wood. Sweating, I glared up at the sun. Set, damn you, set.
Tick followed by tock followed by tick. Time dragged on. Snails moved faster than those hands of my watch. All I wanted was for it to get dark. Then I could sneak Michaela into the boat, then head for Lewis. Within the hour I’d be back home in bed. God knows I was ready to sleep twelve hours straight.
At six in the evening the juice started to flow through the wires again. Now I could fix a meal without having to light the little camping stove. Not that I had anything else but the eggs, bread and milk Mel had brought earlier in the day. I saw she’d also left a bag of fresh mushrooms. That would be enough for ome-lets with the bread and coffee.
I made a meal, took Michaela hers which she ate in her room. There was still a chance of callers, with it being so early in the evening.
Mine, I ate on the porch, washed down with ice cold water. I still aimed to present a picture of normality. Even though the tension compressed my stomach so much I didn’t want to eat much, I forced down a couple of omelets and almost half the loaf. It might be a while before I got the chance to eat again. I’d also have to find a way of replacing around two weeks’ worth of food (for me, anyway) in the kitchen without drawing attention.
At close on eight I decided to check that the batteries were charging properly on the boat. All that after-noon the thought of them nagged at me. I didn’t trust them. They were old. Maybe water had got into the electrics. Perhaps that’s why the juice had drained from them so quickly. And why the hell hadn’t I switched the boat for another? But then, that would mean hoisting the food into the replacement boat. In daylight that would be risky.
I’d reached the cabin door when I saw Ben pull up on that old 250cc dirt bike of his. He smiled when he saw me. He was still smiling when he walked up onto the porch; then the smile turned into an angry mask as he hissed. “Greg, you idiot. They know what you’re doing. The damn Guard are on their way!”
Nineteen
“Michaela… Michaela!”
Heightened survival instincts made her move like a cat. In a flicker of movement she appeared on the stairs, aiming the shotgun at Ben’s chest.
“Easy,” I said as I grabbed a holdall. “This’s Ben. He’s OK.”
“They know I’m here?” she asked.
“And they’ll be here in around thirty seconds flat,” Ben said, his hand trembling like crazy. “I was in the editor’s office and saw the alert come up on the PD screen. I tore down through those woods like a demon.”
“Dammit to hell.” I shook my head as I grabbed the rifle from the rack. “How did they find out so fast?”
“Mel Tourney reported to old man Crowther that she thought you were acting strange.”
“Figures.”
“Christ, Greg.” Ben watched as I scooped boxes of ammo from a drawer. “What y’gonna do, shoot your way out?”
“Not if I can help it. We’ve got to run for it. Ready, Michaela?”
“When you are.” She moved to the doorway. “No sign of anybody yet.”
“I reckon it will take them a good ten minutes to assemble and drive down here.” The only road down here was a switchback track that took vehicles away from this part of the shoreline before it doubled back on itself to run alongside the lake. We might make it. Just. But there was another problem now.
“Ben, what are your plans?”
“Plans?”
“They’re going to find out that you tipped me off, buddy. That’s got to be a capital offense these days.”
“He can come with us,” Michaela said.
Quick as the old greased lightning I stuffed my file of notes and cuttings into the bag, pulled on my leather jacket, then shouldered the rifle. “Looks as if you’ve no choice, Ben.”
Michaela called out, “I see a cloud of dust… yup… around a dozen cars coming this way.”
“That’ll be the Guard; make for the boat, Ben.” Ben stood there, his fingers seeming to vibrate. He’d seized
