“IT WOULD BE so cool to go back in time and see this place like Lewis and Clark did, don’t you think? Except without having to schlep the four thousand miles to get here.”
Kyle pressed his lips together in an effort not to smile as he and Harper strolled along the sidewalk in Astoria, a historic, artsy, upbeat little city located a few miles inland from the ocean and perched right on the edge of the Columbia River. As predicted, the weather had cleared, and Harper had decided to spend the afternoon at the town’s Spring Fling Festival since she’d missed out the evening before.
Kyle estimated they’d walked roughly five miles with Harper snapping photos of everything from the boats on the river, the eclectic mix of people, their pets—including one pig, a ferret and too many dogs to count—to several of the beautiful Victorian homes and historic buildings. Also included were some of the artwork and crafts for sale at the booths, as well as the artisans who’d labored over the creations.
Kyle used the time to instruct her on some basic precautions: how to be aware in a crowd, what dangers to watch for and the most vulnerable positions at their various stops. He encouraged her to utilize her artistic eye and memorize details and faces. He taught her how to tell if someone might be following her and what to do if they were. They agreed on their hand signals and practiced those.
In between Kyle’s directives, Harper shared fun facts. Did he know Astoria was the oldest city west of the Rocky Mountains? The town was named for the fur-trading mogul John Jacob Astor whose great-grandson later died on the Titanic. The Astoria-Megler Bridge was over four miles long, and they close it once a year for a fun run. The 1985 cult classic film The Goonies was filmed here. On it went. And Kyle enjoyed every second. She had a way of imparting information with a mix of enthusiasm and wonder, which she interspersed with a smattering of the ridiculous that made even the otherwise mundane seem interesting. Or funny. The challenge was keeping his commentary to himself, refraining from asking follow-up questions and just generally trying not to engage on a personal level.
Possibly breaking his own guidelines, he added, “I’m not so sure about going back in time that far. I’ll also pass on the camping out for three months in the wintertime without proper provisions.”
“Same. No thanks. I think I read somewhere that it was an unusually wet winter that year. Imagine that without your rubber boots and Gore-Tex. Do you like camping?”
“With the right supplies.”
Kyle did like camping and backpacking. He’d spent his childhood camping with his dad whenever they could get away. He was grateful for the skills his dad had taught him as well as the time they’d spent together. That knowledge had given him an advantage when it came to his Special Forces training. But he didn’t share any of that even as he wondered what she’d say next.
“Can you believe I’ve never been camping?”
“No, I—” he said, biting back the offer to take her. He was surprised, seeing how her dad was such an environmental advocate. “Everyone should try it at least once,” he added, pleased with his self-restraint and diplomatic reply.
“I don’t feel cheated or anything. Not everyone gets to grow up in a lab like I did, which was very cool. My toys were discarded microscopes and old lab equipment. That’s actually how I discovered my love for photography. My dad gave me a camera that had outlived its usefulness.” After a pause, she added a wistful, “That camera became my best friend.”
Her tone held the customary lighthearted tenor he was already accustomed to, but there was something about the joke that fell flat. The sincerity of it, he decided. And the picture of loneliness it presented. The vision of Harper as a little girl in an empty lab with a camera as her only playmate appeared before him, tugging and twisting at his heartstrings. Ready to break his own rule, he started to ask her about that, about what her life was like as the only child of an eccentric, ambitious scientist.
The vibration of his phone in his pocket stopped him. A text from Josh. Kyle’s stomach took an anxious dip as he stared at the display, rereading the message multiple times, Call me ASAP. Something we need to discuss. It’s about Owen.
Owen? What could that possibly mean? He had no idea. But for Josh to go all ASAP on him meant it was important. His finger hovered over Josh’s grinning avatar. But he couldn’t leave Harper in the middle of the street to make the call. And he didn’t want to talk about Owen in front of her.
Kyle looked up to find Harper studying him curiously. “Is everything okay? Do you need to take care of something?”
“Oh, uh, yeah. I mean, no, it’s fine.” He tapped out a response, Can’t talk now. Will call when I can. And then, as was his habit, he deleted both messages before slipping the phone back inside his pocket. The conversation would have to wait until later when he got Harper home and settled in behind her security system and he had some privacy.
“It’s a good idea to get in the habit of deleting messages on your phone that might give someone an idea of future plans and where you’ll be at any given time or date. That sort of thing.”
“Makes sense,” Harper said agreeably. “Do you want to grab a bite to eat before we head back? There’s some great food in this little city.”
“Sounds good,” Kyle said, realizing he was getting hungry.
They continued on, and Harper asked, “Do you like sushi?”
Ugh. Sushi was fine, but it meant he’d be grabbing a burger later. It tasted okay, but it didn’t stick with him for long. “Sushi is fine,” he said. “If that’s what you like.”
“Oh.” Harper flashed him a quick apologetic grin. “I don’t actually.”
Kyle responded with a questioning frown. “Then why—?”
She pointed, and Kyle saw they were walking past a restaurant with a sushi sign in the window. “I was just wondering if you did. I don’t get the craze. It’s not very filling, is it? It’s more like an appetizer to me. Don’t get me wrong, appetizers are fun, but they’re not a meal. Sushi and a sandwich, sure. But just sushi and I’m already planning my next meal.”
Kyle couldn’t help but smile at that. He forced himself to turn away to avoid sharing a moment. He looked out toward the wide expanse of water that was the Columbia River and the over four-mile-long bridge spanning its width. He wondered if she’d be interested in running over the bridge with him someday? Because that sounded fun and she’d probably make jokes the entire way. He wanted to ask about her favorite foods. He wanted to know all about her, including the camera that served as a substitute for a little girl’s best friend.
Kyle had hoped that spending time with her would curb his growing attraction. Not happening. She was so…easy to be with. It was tempting to let his guard down and establish a friendship. But he knew that getting to know her better was not a good idea, not when he already felt the way he did. This was discouraging.
A woman pushing a stroller emerged from a shop on the sidewalk ahead of them. A little boy pranced next to her, clasping an ice cream cone that was rapidly melting into his sleeve. A slightly older girl munched on a paper-wrapped cookie she held in one hand while clutching a leash attached to a giant dog with the other.
“What about ice cream?”
“What about it?”
“Do you like it?”
“Yes,” he answered without elaborating, all the while speculating about her favorite flavor and hoping she’d volunteer it.
After a pause, she said, “Me, too. The chunkier the better, like the kind with cookie dough bites, or chocolate chips, or gobs of brownie. Although right now, I’m feeling a cheeseburger. With bacon.”
Kyle barely managed to stifle a sigh. Of course, she liked bacon and cheeseburgers. No matter what bad things he’d done in this life, he didn’t think he deserved this kind of torture.
Up ahead, Kyle focused on the girl now being pulled along by the rambunctious dog. The little boy’s top scoop leaned precariously to one side. Kyle stepped forward, ready to come to his rescue when, plop, it hit the ground. Stopping in his tracks, he stared down at the calamity. “Mommy! My ice cream…” He broke off with a sob.
Mom glanced over. “Oh, no,” she said, crouching beside him. “It’s okay, Henry.” She slipped an arm around his shoulder. “Shh, don’t cry, sweetie. We’ll fix it.” Eyes scanning the sidewalk ahead, she called, “Marnie, don’t cross the street yet, okay? I need to help your brother.”
“Okay, Mommy.”
The dog had other ideas. With a quick backward shuffle and tip of his head, he slipped out of his collar, leaving Marnie holding an empty leash. The dog bolted into the street. Marnie screamed.
“Oh, no!” Mom cried. “Marnie, stay here. Indy!” she called to the dog. Thankfully, the light at the nearest intersection was red, and the cars in the street were at a standstill. Kyle knew very well that would change all too soon.
Asking Harper to follow, Kyle rushed forward until they’d reached the frantic mom.
“Hey, I’m Kyle and this is Harper, and we’re going to help you,” Kyle said quickly, noting the dog was now on the opposite sidewalk. “I’ll go get your dog. Do me a favor and don’t call for Indy anymore, okay? The light is going to change, and the cars will start moving, and I don’t want him running back out into the street.”
With wide eyes on the verge of panic, Mom nodded. Ice cream momentarily forgotten, little Henry gawked up at Kyle. Marnie, who’d run back to her mom, held on to the stroller, crying softly.
Kyle turned and ran across the street. Once on the other side, however, Indy seemed uninterested in his plan, darting here and there, pausing only long enough to sniff interesting smudges on the sidewalk. Mimicking the singsong voice he’d heard Mia use with dogs, Kyle talked to him the whole time. He’d get close only to have Indy slip out of his grasp. A few times, when he stopped long enough to gobble crumbs, Kyle almost caught up to him. His quest for kibbles would be funny if the dog’s safety wasn’t in jeopardy. Cars were now driving past on the street.
When Indy stopped to sample what appeared to be a partially eaten hotdog, Kyle remembered a trick he’d seen Mia do with her dog, George. He let out a short, sharp whistle. Indy, already moving again and seeming intent on nosing his way inside a bakery, turned curiously.
“Hey, Indy,” Kyle called. He crouched down and tapped the ground. “What’s this?” He cupped his hand like it held a yummy treat. Tail wagging, Indy trotted over to inspect the offering. Kyle gave the dog an affectionate scratch. Indy licked his ear and sat like this had been his plan the whole time.
“Good boy,” Kyle cooed. He glanced up intent on asking Harper to bring him the collar and leash but found that she was one step ahead of him.
Handing it over, she said, “Here you go. Well done. Your next career could be as a doggyguard.”
“Very funny,” Kyle said with a chuckle, adjusting Indy’s collar. “I don’t think ten minutes of cat and mouse with a runaway dog exactly qualifies me as a dog whisperer. Plus, I forgot to take the collar with me. Thank you for that piece of quick thinking.”
“But it was so entertaining. I liked that high-pitched voice you were using. Have you considered auditioning for the boys’ choir?”
Kyle gave it up and laughed with her. The three of them crossed the street toward the grateful family.
“Oh, Indy!” the woman cried, burying her hand in the dog’s silky fur. “You scared the daylights out of me.” Bending over, she planted a kiss on the top of his head. She stood and beamed at Kyle. “Thank you. I don’t even know what to say. That was just…incredible.”
“No problem.”
“How did you do that thing at the end to get him to come to you? Did you have a treat in your hand?”
Kyle chuckled. “No. Luckily, my sister is a veterinarian. She has a dog who wants to eat everything, and I’ve seen her do that trick with him. Your dog is food driven. I’m just glad it worked.”
“Food driven? Are you like a dog trainer or something? My name is Helen, by the way.” She pointed at the kids before gesturing at the stroller, “This is Marnie and Henry. And baby Shawnie, who slept through the whole ordeal, thank the stars above. And, of course, you already know Indy.”
“Nice to meet you all. Not even close to a dog trainer, obviously from how long that took. I’ve just picked up a few things from my sister. It does make them easier to train when they’re food driven, but it can also distract them.” Kyle patted Indy who was staring at him like they were best friends. “He’s beautiful. Bernese mountain dog?”
“Yes, maybe mixed with golden retriever, the shelter thinks. We just moved here, near Pacific Cove, and we haven’t had him long. He’s a rescue, and we’re still learning how to navigate. Having a dog is a little more complicated than we thought. Buying him a harness is now on our to-do list.” Marnie added a solemn nod. “We could probably use some dog lessons or something.”
Kyle retrieved his wallet and pulled out a card. “If you’re serious, I can recommend someone. My sister has a friend who trains dogs and helps families acclimate with their rescue animals.”
Helen took the card. They chatted for a few more minutes until the kids got restless. After saying their goodbyes, Kyle and Harper went to get those burgers.
* * *
“SO, YOUR SISTER IS a veterinarian?” Harper asked Kyle as she secured a camera to the tripod she’d set up on the footbridge that led to the marina.
Just before daylight that morning, they’d loaded into Harper’s SUV and driven south for some miles along the coast to Tabletop Rock, a giant monolith just offshore, favored by puffins and cormorants. A couple of hours of taking photos there and they’d continued here to Dungeness, a small town nestled near the mouth of the Crab River.
“Yes,” Kyle answered, his gaze bouncing around, landing everywhere but on Harper.
“That’s awesome. I think it’s amazing that a person would dedicate her life to helping animals.”
“I agree.”
Harper waited, hoping he’d elaborate. They’d spent nearly every waking minute together the last two days, and he still wasn’t warming up to her. She might have thought that was just his personality if she hadn’t gotten a glimpse of his softer side that first evening when she’d hired him and then again in Astoria. He’d chatted up Helen and her kids more in five minutes than he had her in the entire time she’d known him. Why did that bother her?
She looked at him. He looked away. It seemed like the harder she tried, the less receptive he was to her attempts. She wondered if she was getting on his nerves. She knew she talked a lot. Being alone will do that to a person. But part of it was also because he basically didn’t talk at all unless it was about safety. Maybe he just didn’t like her. Or maybe the very thing she’d been afraid of was bothering him after all; she reminded him of Owen. What a depressing thought. Maybe she should just quit trying so hard. Why was she trying so hard? He had a job to do, and he was doing it very well. Since it had rained the day before, he’d spent hours teaching her how to use her security system, quizzing her and having her set it in all the various combinations. They’d also practiced using the cameras—angles, zoom, video—neat features she couldn’t believe she’d overlooked.
Leaning over, she peered through the lens of her camera, adjusted the zoom and set it for the light conditions on the dock below where a group of sea lions was basking in the late morning sun. The dock was a favored resting spot for the animals and had become popular with tourists, leaving them unbothered by Harper’s and Kyle’s presence. In an effort to not try so hard, Harper resisted the urge to share the differences between a sea lion colony, raft, rookery and harem.
She lasted nearly twenty minutes before breaking, “Did you go to college?” she asked, deciding to make a last-ditch effort. After all, they were going to be together like this for almost a month. They could at least be friendly.
“No.”
“So you joined the Navy right out of high school?”
“Yes.”
“Are you close to your family?”
“Not really,” he answered, squinting off in the distance.
“But your sister lives in Pacific Cove?”
“I don’t want to talk about my family.”
“Oh. I’m sorry,” she returned and instantly felt bad about whatever hardship he’d endured where his family was concerned.
“You don’t need to be,” he said. “See that building right there?”
Harper followed the direction of his pointed finger to the weathered gray structure beside them. “The old cannery?”
She’d photographed the abandoned factory a couple of times now. Built over a hundred years ago and constructed on pilings stretching out into the river, the processing facility had originally been much larger. As the fishing industry evolved and began to rely more and more on large ocean processors, the factory had closed. Years later, a fire had destroyed a good portion of it, and less than half of the original structure remained, now used as a warehouse for a local fishing company. Many of the old pilings could be seen extending unevenly from the water, providing convenient perches for various species of seabirds. A few weeks ago, Harper had taken a brilliant shot of a pelican with a fish dangling from its beak on one of the posts close to shore.
“Yeah.” Kyle asked, “You know about crime scene B, right?”
“What?” Harper zoomed in on a large male sea lion as it drew itself upright like it was posing. Harper chuckled as he made an ostentatious show of barking and flapping his flippers. She snapped several photos before answering, “Was there a crime committed there?”
“Probably at some point over the years. It reminds me of something I’ve been wanting to discuss with you. What I’m talking about is if you are ever in a situation where a perpetrator tries to kidnap you.”
“There’s a happy thought.”
“I know,” he said grimly. “But it’s a consideration with family members of the very wealthy. Fortunately, it’s not as popular as it once was. Not as likely as a home invasion anyway.”
“That’s a relief,” she responded drily. “I’d take a home invasion over a kidnapping any day. There’s no place like home, I say.”
As usual, he ignored her sarcasm. But his mouth-twitch suggested she’d scored a victory. “The point of abduction would be considered crime scene A. You don’t want to be taken to crime scene B because—”
Grimacing, Harper stood upright and interrupted him, “I get it. Because that’s where the really bad stuff happens.”
“That’s right. So we’re going to go over some of the ways you can prevent yourself from being taken to crime scene B.”
“You mean like self-defense moves?” Harper liked that idea, of being able to fend off an attacker like Kyle had done with her dad. “That would be great. I am absolutely pro-ninja, especially when that ninja is me.”
“Yes, we’ll discuss that in a minute. But there are other things you can do, too. Often a perpetrator will threaten a victim not to scream or make any noise. That’s because they don’t want to get caught. If you do the opposite of what they demand—scream and struggle and make noise—sometimes they’ll abandon the attempt.”
“That makes sense.”
“The problem is that fear can make people freeze in the moment.”
Harper nodded. “Operation amygdala.”
“What?”
“Where the primitive portion of the brain takes over. The old fight, flight or freeze conundrum.”
“Exactly,” he said, seemingly pleased that she knew what he was referring to, and possibly that she was taking this seriously. “It’s a complex phenomenon. Despite what some people believe, you’re not genetically disposed to one reaction or another. If you plan for a situation, you can act accordingly. Initially, it might go against your instincts, but you can fight. You just have to be ready. Prepared. Take away the element of shock. We’ll go over some scenarios.”
“Sounds good,” she said, and then dipped back down to watch the sea lions. This particular camera had both an LCD and a traditional viewfinder, which made using it in bright light a breeze.
“I ordered you some pepper spray. Weapons are tricky because they can be disarmed and used against you. So we’ll practice with it. Self-defense moves are better, way more effective. I’ve hired someone to teach you basic techniques.”
Harper looked up at him again, just in time to see him shift on his feet. “Why can’t you teach me?” she asked.
“I think an expert would be better. I found a guy who teaches private lessons.”
“I thought you were an expert.” The sun had moved and was beginning to cast a shadow across the sea lions. She decided to switch cameras so she could get some wider angles of the marina and the harbor beyond. Unhooking the camera from the tripod, she noticed Kyle gazing out at the water. She took his picture.
Slowly, he turned toward her, his expression menacing in a way that no longer unnerved her. She kept snapping away.
Digging in that scowl, he asked, “Did you just take my picture?”
“I did.” She took another. “Several.”
“Why?”
“I want to show you how scary you are.”
His features immediately softened. What was that? Surprise? Concern? Harper was taken aback by the sight. Reflexively, she hit the shutter again before lowering the camera.
Eyes pinned on hers, he asked, “You think I’m scary?”
“Yes,” she answered honestly.
Brow scrunching, he seemed to choose his words carefully. “Harper, I don’t want you to be afraid of me.” He added a little groan of frustration. “This is my fault. I know we need to build some trust but I…”
Harper reached out to touch him, to reassure him, but before she made contact, he took a step back to lean against the railing of the bridge. With a sigh, she pulled her hand back. “I’m not afraid of you. I was teasing. Mostly. But honestly, in general, you can be very intimidating.” And not a ton of fun, she added silently. She turned the camera and held it out toward him. “See?”
Gingerly, he reached out and plucked the camera from her, his big hands surprisingly nimble as he once again avoided touching her. He reminded her of the beast in the fairy tale taking extra care with the heroine. That’s when it occurred to her how extensively he avoided physical contact with her. All the time. Was that why he didn’t want to teach her the self-defense stuff himself? Was it her specifically or some sort of professional line he didn’t want to cross?
Harper nearly laughed out loud as she noticed Kyle glaring down at the image of himself scowling. “It’s not the camera’s fault,” she teased.
He looked slightly embarrassed, and Harper felt kind of bad. But only a bit because she didn’t understand why he was so aloof. She said, “I’m right, huh?”
Lifting a shoulder, he conceded, “Maybe. But, you know, attitude is important when it comes to being a potential target. Criminal research has shown that the more confident and unapproachable you look, the less chance you have of being assaulted. We’ll talk about that a lot more. You’re very poised and self-assured, so that’s helpful.”
Was that a compliment? Harper stared at him, steadily holding his gaze for a few long seconds waiting for…what? She wasn’t sure. Something, some sign that he didn’t find her completely annoying and repulsive.
Finally, she heaved out a sigh, and said, “Well, you’re extra safe, then, because there’s not a bad guy on the planet that would mess with you when you look like that. Which,” she added confidently, “is often.” Reaching out, she took the camera from a once again somber and silent Kyle and tucked it into her bag. Pulling out a different camera, she fastened it in place, focused on her work and told herself to give it up where he was concerned. For now, anyway.