Diedre hung over the rail on the observation deck of the ferry and stared into the dark waters of Puget Sound. She ought to be enjoying the scenery, but she could not quell the churning of her stomach.
"Need something to eat?" Carlene pointed back toward the passageway that led to the cafe area. "A donut or something? I think you can even get a full breakfast if you want it."
Diedre groaned. "I couldn't eat anything if my life depended on it."
"Butterflies?"
She slanted a glance toward Carlene, who stood holding Sugarbear's leash. "More like fire-breathing dragons."
"Try not to think about it." Carlene lifted Sugarbear up to the rail and waved her paws in the air. "Look, Mommy!" she said in a high squeaky voice, as if she were a ventriloquist throwing her voice into the dog. "Look, I see dolphins!"
Diedre looked. Sure enough, a small pod of dolphins ran beside the ferry, arching their fins out of the water and zipping ahead toward the massive prow. As if everyone on board had heard, a group of passengers surged to the left side of the ferry. But none of them paid any attention to the dolphins. Instead, they all raised their eyes outward, toward the horizon.
"What is everybody staring at?"
The young man next to her turned and grinned. He appeared to be a college student, wearing a flannel shirt and faded jeans and carrying a backpack over one shoulder. "The mountain is out."
"Which one?"
He laughed as if she had just said something exceedingly funny, but Diedre couldn't see the humor. Weren't they surrounded by mountains on all sides? The student shrugged and shook his head. "When locals say, 'The mountain is out,' they're only referring to one." He pointed. "The big one. Mount Rainier."
Diedre followed his gesture, and her breath caught in her throat. There it was in the distance—the massive, snowcapped peak of Mount Rainier, rising like a vision out of nowhere.
"It's probably fifty or sixty miles away," he went on. "But even from this distance, it's pretty stupendous."
It was a magnificent sight, huge and lonely, with its base hidden in mist and its high slopes lit by the morning sun. Nothing at all like the lush layers of green and purple and indigo that made up the Blue Ridge back in North Carolina. She wished she had her camera, but it was locked in the trunk of the Lexus three decks below. For a fraction of a second Diedre forgot her apprehension and let her soul fill with the beauty of this natural wonder.
But it didn't last long. The ferry veered around a wooded point, and Mount Rainier vanished from sight. More quickly than she expected, the ferry dock at Bainbridge Island slid into view, and everyone scattered into the depths of the great iron monster that carried them.
"We'd better get back to the car," Carlene said. "Come on; I think the elevator is this way."
By the time they had driven off the ferry and found Route 305 heading through a place called Suquamish, Diedre's jitters had turned into major anxiety. Her mind had difficulty getting around the truth, but her nerves clearly understood the reality of the situation: for the first time in more than twenty years, Diedre McAlister was about to stand face to face with the sister she remembered only in her dreams.
"It looks deserted," Carlene said. "Are you sure this is the right place?"
"The sign on the fence said Elkhorn. We passed the llama pasture on Clear Creek Road, just like Mr. Jorgensen said. This has to be it."
They sat for a moment, peering through the windshield at the log house that stood in a clearing surrounded by fir trees so tall they seemed to stretch to heaven itself. The main part of the house, rectangular in shape, had a narrow front porch and dormer windows peering from the second-story roof like curious eyes. On one side, a single-level addition stuck out like an afterthought.
"Look at those logs," Diedre hedged, trying desperately to buy a little more time. "They have to be two feet in diameter."
"There's a light on. Let's go knock."
Diedre grabbed Carlene's arm and held her back. "I don't know. Maybe we should just—"
"Just what? Just leave, after coming all this way? I don't think so." Carlene got out from behind the wheel and stood hanging on the open car door, glaring in at Diedre. "If you want to sit out here until you're fifty, that's fine with me. I'm going in." She slammed the door.
"Oh, all right," Diedre muttered. She leaned over the seat and patted Sugarbear on the head. "You stay here, girl. We won't be long." Then with an exasperated sigh, she heaved herself out of the car and reluctantly followed Carlene up to the porch.
"Hello? Is anyone home?" Carlene called. No answer. She peered through the frosted glass of the front door. "I can see light. It almost looks like you can see straight through the house to the back." She raised a hand to knock on the door, and it gave a little under the pressure. "It's open!"
Diedre took a step back. "Carlene, you are not going in there."
"Of course I am. Didn't you notice anything on the way here? We're in the country." She opened the door a little wider and stepped inside, calling, "Hello? Anybody home?" as she went.
Trembling, Diedre followed. She could just imagine the headlines: LOCALS CAPTURE FEMALE TRESPASSERS: TAR AND FEATHERING AT ELEVEN.
The front door opened into a small foyer, where a wide set of rough hewn steps went up on the left. Carlene had been right about the light: straight ahead of them, daylight streamed into the house, and when they had gone a bit farther, Diedre could see why. The foyer opened up into a sizable kitchen, dining room, and huge post-and-beam living room with a vaulted ceiling and stone fireplace. On the back side, away from the road, tall windows with a couple of doors opened onto a wide covered porch.
The old house was impressive, but what stunned Diedre most was the view—a vista more magnificent than any she could possibly have imagined. They were sitting on a high bluff, and trees had been cut away to reveal a wide canal flanked on the other side by low rolling hills, and beyond that, a jagged mountain range that seemed to go on forever. It looked like photographs she had seen of the Norwegian fjords, a rugged landscape carved by glaciers a million years ago.
"Can you believe that?" Carlene whispered. "It's incredible."
Diedre opened her mouth to answer, but before a sound could come out, she heard a noise behind them, a definitive click.
Then a voice spoke—a low, angry drawl. "I wouldn't make any sudden moves if I was you. Now turn around—nice and slow."
Diedre turned, her heart pumping madly, and what she saw made her feel as if she had suddenly been transported into a grade-B western.
A double-barreled shotgun was pointed directly at her head. And holding it, with his finger on both triggers, stood a man as tall as a tree with a hide like old leather. A shock of white hair fell across his brow as he motioned toward the sofa with his head. "Sit down, both of you," he commanded. "Sam, call 911 and tell 'em to send the sheriff."
A movement at the big man's side drew Diedre's attention. It was a small boy, no more than six or seven, with wide blue eyes and shaggy blond hair. He was staring at her, transfixed.
"Sam, now!" the man repeated.
"Grandpa, no. Look at her. She looks just like Amber!"
Between the excited interruptions of the little boy and the information provided by the grandfather, Diedre had finally begun to get the gist of things. At least the old man had put the gun down and wasn't threatening to shoot their heads off. She and Carlene had introduced themselves, apologized for coming into the house uninvited, and retrieved Sugarbear from the car. Sam was now sitting on the hearth rug with her, obviously enthralled. He had taken off one boot and made a ball from his sock, and the two of them were playing a rambunctious game of fetch.
Yes, they were in the right place, Houston said. This was the Elkhorn property, and Amber Chaney did live here. Joseph Elkhorn, whom little Sam called Twojoe, was not here at the moment, nor were his sister Meg or Amber. Something about a fire and an injury and going to the hospital in the middle of the night.
"Twojoe oughta be home real soon," the grandfather, who had introduced himself as Colonel Vernon Houston, repeated. "With the fire and all, I figured we'd better keep an eye on the place. Whoever done it might still be lurking around."
Did he actually think this fire—it destroyed part of the barn, Diedre gathered—was deliberately set? "Surely you don't think the fire was the work of an arsonist?"
"Can't rightly see how it could be otherwise," Vernon Houston drawled. "Don't know much in the way of details yet, though. Reckon Twojoe'll call when he's got some news on Amber."
Diedre stared at him. "Wait a minute. Amber was the one hurt in the fire?" She felt her face go clammy, and Carlene, on the couch beside her, gripped her hand and gave her a worried glance.
Houston eyed her warily. "What did you say your connection with Amber was, Miss McAlister?"
Diedre hesitated. She hadn't said anything, not really. Just that she had come to see Amber, and that it was personal. There was no point in telling everybody her business, after all.
Sam, however, heard his grandfather's question and stopped his game with Sugarbear. He stood up and limped over to stand in front of her with one foot bare and the other encased in a cowboy boot. "I told you, Grandpa," he said quietly, without ever taking his gaze off Diedre's face. "She's the one in the statue. The sister." He tilted his head curiously. "She missed you," he whispered. "She got really sad without you."
"I was sad without her, too, Sam."
"I know. I told her so."
A lump formed in Diedre's throat, and she reached out to take the boy's hand. "What else did you tell her?"
He smiled. "I told her you never really let go of somebody you love."