How had they managed that? As if he didn’t know. How many patrols had he led into death-defying situations with young people who believed they were somehow invincible?

  Until the first bloody fight, anyway. Seeing your buddy blown into a cloud of blood and detached limbs had quite a sobering effect. Eighteen-year-olds became men overnight, not always in a good way.

  So a lot of these artists had convinced themselves of their own invincibility. That only Mason and Sebastian had been targets—never mind that bullet through the window. Nothing had happened in hours, and that was all they needed to persuade themselves of their own safety. He knew his people would check out the cabins and surrounding areas, but that was no proof against a lurking killer. No way. A single man or woman could slip through those woods unseen if they knew how.

  Trying not to grind his teeth because all that ever did was give him a headache, Josh left Paul to his work and began to slowly make his way around the room. Fewer people, easier task, and apparently his frequent appearances at the lodge had eased the fear of him.

  Most of it, anyway. Some uneasy looks still darted his way, but then some of them were directed toward Reject. Apparently the dog’s preternatural senses yesterday had made him a thing that wasn’t quite earthly.

  Which could be half-true, Josh thought with mild amusement.

  Krystal fell into step beside him before he’d wound his way through half the room.

  “People are foolish,” she remarked and didn’t try to keep her voice down. “I can’t believe how many people went back to their cabins. Like making themselves offerings to a killer in the woods.”

  He didn’t disagree, but there was no way to agree with her when others could hear. “My people will check out their security.”

  “I’m sure they will. But since they don’t have Reject’s senses, they could miss a lot. Crap.”

  He glanced at her, reading the strong annoyance in her face. “Cops all over the place, too.”

  “Not enough of them.” She shook her head and came to a dead halt. “They can’t know they’re not out there with a beast who just wants to kill for the joy of it. They can’t know that, Josh.”

  He sighed quietly and looked around, thinking about the scene differently. “Maybe people started to feel like fish in a bowl. Easier to attack while gathered here.”

  “We mentioned that, didn’t we? I hate to say you’re probably right. God, Mom’s right. She’s worried about people getting killed—she’s not some kind of monster—but she’s also worried about what this can do to the business. Sheesh, Josh, she’s spent decades turning this place into a reputable artists’ retreat. This’ll kill it. Make it visibly unsafe. A kind of reputation you can’t claw back, not with the internet.”

  Josh had no counterargument for that. He’d already said all he could on the subject.

  “We’ll probably attract the thrill seekers now.”

  He asked dryly, “The Mason Cambridges you mean?”

  At last a smile tickled the corners of her mouth. “Maybe so. But I’m not sure we want to be a retreat for wannabe horror writers, at least not mainly. Damn, we used to have such a nice, peaceful environment.”

  “It’ll come back. It might just take some time.” He spoke with more surety than he felt, however. He had only to look at his group of soldiers to know how long bad publicity could last.

  Krystal stopped walking and faced him. Their eyes met, and Josh felt an overwhelming zing of attraction for her. In an instant he wanted to pull her away to a private place and discover every inch of that body she concealed beneath jeans and loose Western shirts.

  Because he was sure it was a perfect body. Even in loose clothing she couldn’t hide it all when she moved. But it wasn’t just her body.

  He wanted her to smile at him. Sigh at him. Murmur his name. Share that strong inner core of hers, one he felt matched his own. A woman to meet him as an equal. A true partner.

  He caught himself just before he did something stupid. He didn’t want to offend her, and he certainly didn’t want to draw attention to her and the way he was feeling about her.

  But did he see, in those blue eyes of hers, an answering heat? He could only hope because the time for any of this frankly sucked.

  She shook her head a bit, as if in answer to some internal discussion of her own, then faced forward, making it clear she intended to continue the survey of their remaining guests.

  She was better at it, too, maybe because the clients here knew her, unlike him. Even though he’d had a highly visible profile here since yesterday, he was still the unknown. A pretty large unknown, he admitted to himself. One of his nicknames in the Army had been Giant. Total exaggeration, but it had given him some idea of how he appeared to others.

  Krystal slipped easily into chairs at occupied tables, greeted warmly by everyone. Josh stood back, creating space for her and the people she needed to talk with. When it seemed wise, he seated himself nearby.

  Krystal, he discovered, experienced no hesitation about coming right to the point.

  “We’ve had two murders,” she said bluntly. “Very different murders. I know the cops interviewed you yesterday, but this is today, guys. I want to know if you remembered something in the meantime. Some little thing that didn’t seem important enough to bring up yesterday.”

  Well, she certainly got the four people she was with to exchange looks. He didn’t get their names. Didn’t matter. If they needed them for some reason later, Krystal would know.

  “Well,” said one of the women slowly, “I thought it was weird how Mason started that creepy story before his murder. Were you listening, Krystal?”

  Krystal gave a half shake of her head. “I was busy.”

  “We all should have been,” said one of the men.

  “I hate to admit it,” the woman said, “but that man could spin quite a tale. Anyway, a couple nights before he was killed...didn’t you notice it? Sebastian mentioned it at the time.” Then she paused, shaking her head, a tear running down her cheek. “Poor Sebastian. He didn’t deserve what happened.”

  Who does? Josh thought a trifle sourly.

  The woman dabbed at her eyes. “Anyway, we were sitting there listening to Mason tell his tale and Sebastian turned to me and said, ‘Carrie? Doesn’t it sound like he’s plotting his next book? His next murder?’”

  Carrie shuddered. “At the time I thought it was amusing. Of course that’s what Mason was doing. He was always doing that. But that night I could only joke that the only thing missing from his story were the fools who ran out into the night woods, instead of staying safely inside, only to meet the killer with the axe. Like all those movies.” Carrie shuddered again. “It was exactly like that.” She raised a watery gaze to Krystal. “Is it possible he planned his own murder?”

  Josh stiffened. He saw a small shudder run down Krystal’s back.

  “Hardly likely,” Krystal answered firmly. “Besides, he wasn’t out in the woods, was he?”

  That leavened Carrie’s face somewhat, and the others at the table became more relaxed, as if they had feared something worse.

  “Nah,” Krystal said, rising, “he just went back to his cabin and ran into a killer. Didn’t have to be him. Could have been anyone, like what happened to Sebastian.”

  Heads nodded. Then one man said, “Although I have to admit—Mason seemed the likeliest person someone would want to kill.”

  An uneasy laugh passed around the table.

  “But not Sebastian,” Carrie reminded them.

  As they walked away from the table, Josh fell into step with Krystal. “Thoughts?”

  “Nothing except that people seem to be finding their own relationship between Mason’s storytelling and what happened. How unlikely is that?”

  “Very. Unless Mason Cambridge was suicidal.”

  “Always a possibility, I suppose.”

  Just around then, soldiers returning from their escort duties began to come through the door. As was usual, given their training, they fell into step, a heavy tread.

  “Packages delivered, sir,” one former corporal said, stepping forward. “Just a few more to go.”

  “And nothing unusual?”

  “Nothing we saw, unfortunately. Whoever was behind this has gone to ground.”

  Not good news, Josh thought. Looking at Krystal he saw his doubts reflected there. Nothing but a possible woman’s boot print, which he well knew could mean anything or nothing. Men came in smaller sizes and weights, not just women.

  He spoke to Krystal. “So Mason was popular with the ladies?”

  “Flies to honey and all those aphorisms. Yeah, they hung on his every word.”

  Josh repressed a smile at Krystal’s evident dislike of the writer. “Not one of his fans, huh?”

  “Hardly. I kept telling Mom not to let him come, but he was a drawing card. The kind of headliner that was good for business.”

  “Didn’t you agree?”

  Krystal faced him, hands on her hips. “I could have tolerated him in smaller doses.”

  Then they resumed their walk around the room. Sunlight had begun to give way to the hints of another stormy day, and the remaining guests had begun to look uneasy again, as if they wanted to pull the curtains closed.

  Except that made keeping an eye out for a threat almost impossible.

  Gage had said he was shorthanded, looking for help. Josh eyed the troops who had come in to warm up and eat and decided to take a risk with their reaction.

  He joined them, a roll in hand, coffee in the other. “I’m looking for some volunteers,” he said quietly. “No one who’s uncomfortable with the idea. Hell, that’s why we built the stockade, so we wouldn’t have to deal with this crap.”

  A half dozen nods answered him.

  Josh drew a long breath, acutely aware of what he’d already asked of these vets. “I need some patrols out there. The sheriff is shorthanded.”

  He wasn’t surprised by the hesitation. These people had already left their safe zone to face hazards they knew all too well. Hazards they still had trouble dealing with.

  Then one of them nodded. Rusty Rodes, a former MP. “I’ll do it,” he said. “There’s something going on out there that needs to be stopped. I’ll see who else will join me.” Then he held up his mug with a half smile. “Heating up first, boss.”

  In the back office, opening the slatted blinds on the window that offered a view of the large lodge room, Krystal watched. Josh joined her and surprised Krystal by wrapping his arm around her. A secure feeling without a sense of encroachment. She had to fight an urge to rest her head against his powerful shoulder.

  “What do you think?” he asked presently.

  “That no one knows a damn thing about what’s going on out there. Not a thing.”

  “Yeah. Some help.”

  Krystal sighed and scanned the room once more. “Another storm. I wonder if we’ll get crowded again. We’re not exactly stashed with enough provisions for days of this.”

  Josh understood the logistical problem. It was written into his genes after his war experiences. “Count on Gage Dalton.”

  “This entire county counts on that man. You’d think he’d have had enough of us by now.”

  “Is there often trouble up here?”

  Krystal shook her head with a restrained laugh. “Usually we’re pretty much boring. People just want to work.”

  “A different summer, then.”

  But, unable to help himself, Josh turned toward her. He didn’t wind her in his arms much as he wanted to—that damn window blind was open.

  He caught Krystal’s gaze, drinking in her delicate features, even that small nose some people would have killed for, and smiled the warmest smile he still had in his heart.

  “Lady,” he said quietly, “I want to have sex with you right now. I want to strip you naked and fall into your depths and never emerge again.”

  He heard her sharp gasp of indrawn air, then she didn’t breathe at all. Her face softened in every inch, but she said nothing.

  He raised his hands and took her gently by her upper arms. “That’s a promise,” he said quietly. “You can kick it back in my teeth, but it’s my promise to you.”

  “Oh, Josh,” she murmured. “Oh, Josh. Please. But when this stuff is over.”

  He could have swept her into a tight embrace, to answer her need with his own, but that damn window...

  Reluctantly he stepped back. “Soon.”

  “Not soon enough.”

  At that moment Joan chose to enter the office. She scanned the two of them as if she’d missed nothing at all, then nodded. “Wondered when” was all she said about them.

  Krystal flushed faintly. “No news?”

  Joan shook her head. “Nada. But there’s something weird about that Mary Collins. Can’t put my finger on it, though.”

  “The romance novelist?” Josh asked.

  “The same. Never saw such a bitter woman in my life. At least she published a book.” Joan sighed. “Of course, some folks will never be happy.”

  Josh stood looking out the window. “She’s the one with the stringy dirty-blond hair, glasses, right? I swear she’s been playing cards by herself this whole time.”

  His head tipped back a bit. “An interesting response to all of this, wouldn’t you say?”

  Krystal couldn’t help but agree. “As if she feels she has nothing to fear.”

  “Yep. Except she was on this side of the glass when that bullet came flying through.” He rubbed his face. “Hell, my kingdom for a decent clue.”

  “Well,” Krystal said, “I’m all for talking to Mary right now. I’ll tell her I need a touch of her zen.” With a steady stride, she headed that way.

  Josh decided to hang back, sitting with Donna Carstairs, who was eating a thin peanut butter sandwich. “Want one?” she asked, holding a half out toward him.

  “I think I can smear my own peanut butter.”

  Donna chuckled. “Bread’s getting stale, though. You’d best toast it.”

  “I’ve eaten bread so stale I could see where Fleming got his idea for penicillin.”

  Donna’s laugh rose from her belly and Joan’s laugh joined hers. Joan said, “I bet you and your group have quite some tales to tell, if they ever want to.”

  “Maybe so. Depends on how people around here feel about us.”

  Donna nodded and shoved half her sandwich his way. “A spread of opinions. Eat anyway. I’m sure you’ve heard them all. Some people want to think you’re dangerous even though you’ve done nothing to scare them. Others figure it’s none of their business. Then there are some who feel sympathy, at a safe distance. The whole gamut.”

  Josh nodded and turned his attention to Krystal. He couldn’t tell if she was getting anything at all out of Mary.

  “Now that one’s interesting,” Donna remarked. “Mary. She comes nearly every year, and nearly every year she pretty much avoids Mason. Not that she’s the only one.”

  Joan snorted. “Not everyone liked that literary lion. Comes on too strong for some. But to kill him?” Joan shrugged. “What would that gain?”

  Josh had an idea. “A lot of money for his agent and publisher. Nothing like a dead writer.”

  Joan nodded slowly. “Won’t say that hasn’t come up before, but I’d remove that agent, Darlene, from the list. If that woman ever stops shaking it’ll be in her next lifetime.”

  Then Josh spoke heavily. “Or maybe she didn’t know how awful it could be to kill another human.”

  Joan’s gaze met his directly. “So tell me, Josh. Is it awful?”

  Josh closed his eyes, stomping down on a flood of memories he needed to control, resisting his urge to yell at Joan for even daring to ask such a question. “Yeah,” he said finally. “It’s that god-awful.”

  Joan at least didn’t offer any fake sympathy. “I figured” was all she said.

  “It’s better that way. To feel that way.”

  “Maybe. Maybe we wouldn’t go to war as often.”

  Joan sighed and turned to Donna, whose face had tightened. “How much can we feed this small mob?”

  Donna jerked her chin toward the darkening day. “It’ll be pretty thin unless Gage shows up with the supplies he promised.”

  Joan snorted. “Like he doesn’t have a thousand other people to take care of right now.”

  Donna answered quietly. “Like he doesn’t have a couple of murders to take care of right now.” Then she looked pleadingly at Joan and Josh. “What the hell happened here? This isn’t our kind of place, not anymore.”

  Josh leaned forward, claiming Donna’s attention. “It’ll be okay when we get this done. Something crazy happened, but it won’t happen forever.”

  He wished he believed that. None of this was adding up to any kind of sense. Murdered SOB author? Possible. Even likely. But that poet guy, so inoffensive he faded into the background? Paul had been pretty clear about that.

  He was relieved when Krystal finally ended her conversation with Mary Collins. Maybe she’d gotten some useful information.

  Krystal paused to speak to a few people who were ensconced at their own tables. Outside, the storm began to blow again, though not as wildly as yesterday.

  At last she reached the office, grabbed a cup of coffee and sat with the others.

  “Well?” Joan demanded.

  “Mary absolutely didn’t have the highest opinion of Mason Cambridge, I can tell you that for sure.”

  Josh leaned forward. “As in?”

  “As in she thought he was a disgusting creep not above stealing the works of others.”

  Josh leaned back immediately. He hadn’t expected such a bold accusation. “Stealing?”

  Krystal merely shook her head. “The woman doesn’t get the difference between copyright infringement and copyright in general. She’s not the only one on the planet.”

 

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