Refuge Cove (New Americana 2)

She’d been head over heels in love with Boone without ever knowing who he really was. Now, less than two weeks later, she was in love with John. Could she trust her inexperienced heart? Did she even know what real love was?

Could she love John unconditionally? After what had happened the last time, could she give herself to him with complete trust, holding back nothing, for the rest of her life? If the answer was yes, why was she saving her restaurant tips for that “Plan B” airline ticket?

Was she afraid that he’d turn out to be like Boone?

Soon, my love . . .

After laying her gun on the nightstand, she walked into the bathroom, stripped down, and washed the aromas of fish, burger grease, and French fries from her skin and hair. Then she pulled on John’s thermals, laid the card on the nightstand, and crawled into bed. Usually she enjoyed an hour of reading before she fell asleep. Tonight she was exhausted. With her senses awash in the fragrance of roses, she drifted into sleep.

She’d just begun to dream when her cell phone rang. The sound startled her awake. She sat bolt upright, her heart pounding as the phone rang again, then again. Reminding herself that only John and Judge Falconi had the number of her disposable phone, she picked up the call.

It was John, sounding upbeat. “Good news,” he said. “We put the new float on the plane and towed it to Sitka. The repair work on the wing will be done tomorrow morning. The engine started up fine. Unless we find problems on the test flight tomorrow, I should be back in Refuge Cove in time to kiss you good night.”

“That’s great to hear,” she said, wondering if he was waiting for her to mention the roses. “I have good news for you, too. Thanks to Marlena and her mother, Ezra’s likely going to be cleared of the murder charge. I’ll find out for sure tomorrow.”

“Marlena and her mother? I never thought I’d live to see that.” He chuckled, then his voice grew serious. “If Ezra’s cleared, there won’t be anybody for the law to go after except Boone. It’s about time they put that murderer behind bars. Has there been any sign of him?”

“None that I know of. If Ezra goes free and Boone gets word of it, he could be on the run.”

“Don’t count on it. He could be anywhere. Stay in the hotel and keep your gun close by until you know for sure he’s been arrested.”

“I’ll be careful,” Emma promised. “And by the way, thank you for the roses. They’re beautiful.”

“Roses?”

Her heart seemed to stop. She knew. “Roses and a note.”

“Emma, I didn’t send you roses. I didn’t send you anything.”

Her body had gone cold. “He’s playing with me, isn’t he? Like a cat playing with a mouse!” She was shaking, as much from anger as from fear. How could she not have realized, as soon as she saw those roses, that Boone had sent them?

Soon, my love. He was taunting her.

“He’s planning something, Emma,” John said. “Don’t do anything until I get back tomorrow. You might even want to call in sick and stay in your room. If he’s not in jail by the time I get there, I’ll deal with him myself. He’ll never hurt you again, I promise. Now double-check your door and get some rest.”

Get some rest.

That was a joke, Emma thought as she ended the call with yet another promise to be careful. As long as Boone was stalking her, there would be no rest. She would be hunted prey.

After placing the phone on the nightstand, she went to the door and made sure all three locks were securely fastened. The flowers sat in the vase on the dresser—their color bloodred, their cloying scent reminding her of the funerals she’d sat through, the loved ones she’d lost—her parents, who’d died in a car crash when she was in her early teens, and later, her grandmother, who’d slipped away at eighty-seven.

The single window in Emma’s room was on the back of the building, overlooking an alley

. The window appeared to be painted shut, but when she unlatched the top and pushed upward on the sash, it moved easily. A cold night wind blew into the room as she carried the vase to the open window, leaned over the sill, and dumped the flowers into the alley below. Then she snatched up the note and envelope, ripped them into tiny pieces, and tossed them after the roses.

For several minutes she left the window open, letting the fresh air flow into the room. But even after she closed it, crawled back into bed, and huddled shivering under the covers, the fragrance lingered to haunt her memory.

Soon, my love . . .

* * *

John had never been more anxious to get home. As he followed the jagged coastline south, with the Beaver performing well, his thoughts turned again and again to Emma.

The call he’d made to Sergeant Packard early that afternoon confirmed that Ezra Swenson had been released to go home with his mother, and that the troopers and local police had put out a dragnet for Boone. But so far, Bethany Ann’s killer was nowhere to be found.

It made sense that, with Ezra cleared of the murder, Boone would either be running for the Canadian border, hiding out in the remote bush, or maybe on a boat, bound for some faraway part of Alaska. But as of last night it appeared he was still close by, and still intent on tormenting Emma.

Boone was obsessed with her—an obsession that made him reckless, vindictive, and as dangerous as a rabid wolf. If he was determined enough to get to her, even the hotel would no longer be safe.