He sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
“The only good thing about it was that Dylan was away,” she said, thinking back. “It was the middle of summer, and she’d sent him to camp. She’d also packed up all her things and put them in marked boxes. She’d planned so far ahead! I think she’d have made the funeral arrangements if it wouldn’t have drawn suspicion.”
“You couldn’t have known,” he said softly, reading her mind.
Logic told her those words were true, even if her heart said different. “I’m glad we didn’t die,” she murmured, changing the subject.
His arm tightened around her. Outside the cave, it was almost pitch black. In a few moments they wouldn’t be able to see a thing.
“I hate to suggest this, but we should make a fire,” she said. “For warmth, and light, and to keep away animals.”
That got him moving. There was a circle of rocks near the mouth of the cave. He put a couple of small logs in the middle of it and found a book of matches. Then he frowned, as if he knew something was missing. “What about…”
“Kindling? There should be some palm fronds in that basket.”
He rummaged around, going by feel in the deepening gloom. “You brought this stuff?”
“Yes.”
“Have you stayed here before?”
“Not overnight.”
She could tell by the way he proceeded that he didn’t have much experience building fires, but she enjoyed his shirtless performance too much to offer any advice, and before long he had it going. While she lazed about, getting warm and cozy, he brought her water and they shared a tin of crackers and some beef jerky from her stash. They saved the last energy bar and a can of peaches for breakfast, although Shay could have eaten more.
Luke knew enough not to burn all the wood at once, so the fire was small and didn’t give off much heat. He must be cold in wet trousers and no shirt, and she would have invited him under her blanket if she thought he would accept.
From the way he kept his distance, she knew he wouldn’t. In fact, he looked prepared to stay up all night, holding vigil.
The fire did generate plenty of light, illuminating the dips and curves in the walls of the cave. Some of the natural rock features had been enhanced by human hands, and they drew Luke’s attention. “What’s this?” he asked, running his fingertips over a plump crevice.
She assumed he knew it was a petroglyph. Apparently, he didn’t know what the rock carving represented. “It’s a yoni,” she explained. “A female fertility symbol.”
Realizing he’d just been fondling a sacred stone vulva, he dropped his hand like it had been burned.
Shay smothered a laugh. “Cahuilla women used to rub it for good luck. They thought if they slept with their husbands after touching the shrine, a baby would come.”
He stared at his fingertips in dismay.
“I don’t think it works the same way for men,” she said with a smile.
Wiping his hand against the fabric of his pants anyway, anxious to get rid of whatever fertility mojo he may have picked up, he said, “You should try to get some sleep.”
Shay got his meaning, loud and clear: He didn’t want to share a blanket with her. He didn’t want to have sex with her. He didn’t even want to
Incensed, she sat up, clutching the blanket to her chest. “I didn’t ask you to kiss me earlier.”
He looked at her mouth, her bare shoulders, then away, into the darkness. “I know.”
“I didn’t even want you to.”
At that, he shrugged, as if the subject was debatable. Or maybe just not interesting enough to warrant a verbal response.
She looked around for something to throw at his head, and came up empty. “I’m not going to jump on you if you lay down next to me, either,” she said in a scathing tone. “Don’t worry, your virtue is safe.”
The corner of his mouth tipped up, but he didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he asked, “It’s not fire season, is it?”
“What?”
“April isn’t fire season.”
“No,” she said, feeling derailed. She’d wanted an argument, not a casual discussion about the weather. “But this is the desert. All a fire needs is dry fuel.”
He nodded, staring out into the black night once again. “I should keep watch.”
Understanding dawned. “You think someone set that fire deliberately? Knowing we were out here?”
“It came from the same direction we did.”
“So does the wind.”
“Then an arsonist could predict its path.”
She was flabbergasted. “Who would do that? And why?”
“To keep us away from something. To protect someone. I don’t know. Why would anyone move a dead body?”
She shook her head helplessly.
“Try to get some sleep,” he repeated, more gently this time. “You’ll need it if we’re going to hike out of here tomorrow.”
11
Dylan turned off the TV with a flick of his wrist and tossed the remote aside.
He was frustrated by the lack of information about the fire. Nothing that happened in Tenaja Falls ever rated a top story. The television crews in San Diego probably wouldn’t care if the whole town burned down.
According to the brief news bite, a small fire had engulfed several thousand acres on the Los Coyotes Indian Reservation. Now fully contained, its origins were unknown.
So where the hell was Shay?
When he saw black smoke curling up through the air on his way home from the construction site, his first thought had been: Oh, shit. What if his extracurricular science project had started the fire? He’d chosen the construction site precisely because it was deserted. There was nothing out there but freshly leveled dirt, with nary a bush or tree in sight. He knew a spark could travel quite a distance on the wind, so he’d been meticulous.
And he’d covered his tracks.
He was getting more worried now, because Shay hadn’t called, and he couldn’t reach her cell phone. Cell service was usually unreliable, but his sister never was. She always let him know when she was going to be late.
“Goddamned cops,” he muttered, blaming Luke for detaining her. His sister had been a little crazy when she was younger, but she’d never been irresponsible. And the sheriff had practically been drooling all over her this morning. If she encouraged him, Dylan figured Luke would be happy to serve her.
The new sheriff seemed like an okay guy, but Dylan hated Garrett Snell, and every other man who abused his power, with an alarming ferocity. Sulking, he imagined blowing the sheriff’s station to smithereens.
The doorbell rang, interrupting his fantasies of mayhem.
He rose to his feet, the bag of ice that was resting in his lap falling to the floor with a squishy clink. Hobbling less than he had a few hours ago, he made his way to the front door, and opened it to Angel Martinez.
She jerked her hand away from her mouth, as if she’d been biting her fingernails and didn’t want to get caught. In a plain black T-shirt and dark jeans, she looked fantastically beautiful. Her hair was pulled away from her face by a headband with a skull-and-crossbones design and a series of tiny silver hoops graced the curve of her ear.
“Hi,” she said, a little breathlessly.
He leaned against the doorjamb. “Hi.”
She looked down at her pointy-toed boots, and then back up at him. “Can we talk for a minute?”
