WITH HER NERVES jumping nearly out of her bruised skin, Amanda stood at the window of the parking lot, watching for the white sedan Aiden had told her would be arriving to pick her up. She’d never before realized how many white cars there were in Honeymoon Harbor, but finally one parked in the zone that had been reserved for patient pickup and watched as a woman matching the description Aiden had given her climbed out while the driver waited inside the car. She was wearing a blue parka, jeans and ankle-high boots.
Stephanie Dunn entered the building without so much as glancing around, carrying a small duffel bag with her. Which, Aiden had assured her wouldn’t look suspicious in the event Eric, who, despite a bulletin sent to out to all the police and sheriff departments in the state, and neighboring Oregon and Idaho, still hadn’t been located, might be watching. After all, he’d said, many people need fresh clothes coming home from a stay in the hospital.
Ten minutes later, she was looking at herself in the mirror, unable to recognize the woman in the long brunette wig, a Seahawks sweatshirt and skinny jeans, something she’d never worn because they definitely weren’t designed for planting gardens.
“Is all this necessary?” she’d asked as the former detective had begun taking the disguise from the bag.
“Probably not,” Stephanie replied. “If your husband was hanging around the hospital, waiting for you to leave, he’d have been noticed. There are cameras focused on every part of the parking lot. And the doors. But there’s no point in taking any chances. Do you have your phone?”
“Yes, it’s right here.” She held up the burner phone Aiden had brought her because Eric could probably track her old one even if it was turned off or dead. Her old one was now smashed and in the town’s electronics recycling bin.
“Good. Here’s your ID. I don’t expect you to need it, either, but you never know and if we get in an accident on the way to the house, we’d want emergency personnel to know who you are.”
“That’s something I wouldn’t have thought of.”
“You’re not supposed to have to. My husband, Scott, and I are professionals. And one of the things he learned in the SEALs was a failure to plan was a plan for failure. So, if we seem overly cautious, it’s just because we’ve never lost a woman yet, and don’t intend to.
“We have gained a new resident since Aiden called about you.” Stephanie changed the subject. “A young mother with a six-month-old baby and a four-year-old. I hope you’re okay with kids.”
“I love children.” Amanda had always pictured herself as a mom, reading Goodnight Moon to her children, celebrating birthdays, and most of all, at this time of year, she imagined staying up all night putting together bicycles and dollhouses for them to find from Santa on Christmas morning. “But I didn’t dare.” She’d never fully admitted that. Not even to herself.
“That makes it easier to relocate you. Fortunately, these kids are young enough that we don’t have to worry about enrolling them in a new school. So—” she handed Amanda a brown parka with a hood “—let’s get going. I picked up some fresh oysters at Kira’s Fish House and have oyster stuffing to make. And don’t worry if you don’t like oysters. I’m also making sausage dressing in a casserole dish for my husband and Emma, the four-year-old.”
“We’re having Thanksgiving?” The holidays had always been a bad time with Eric. Too many parties, too much drinking, which, from what she’d researched, was a form of self-medication. As much as she grieved for the man she’d once loved, Amanda also knew that Chief Mannion was right. Her marriage had reached the point that if she’d stayed, she might not have made it alive to Christmas.
She hadn’t been surprised that they hadn’t found Eric right away. He was so smart. But, as she’d been reassured so were all the law enforcement officers, and the police at Sea-Tac airport looking for him. He was outnumbered and would be apprehended. And, because it turned out that he’d also stolen property from his work computer at the National Reconnaissance Office by downloading on a thumb drive, the FBI was now involved. That, the chief had assured her, would keep him away in a federal prison for a very long time.
“Of course we are,” Stephanie said. “Everyone pitches in. It’s like one big family. And best of all, Tara, that young mother I mentioned, learned how to make pies when she was working at a chain restaurant in Spokane while going to WSU. We usually have frozen, which are simpler for women like me, who are baking challenged.” Her smile was warm, making Amanda feel as if she’d been wrapped in a warm woolen blanket. “So this year, we’re lucky.”
“Lucky,” Amanda murmured, as she glanced around the hospital room, then walked out the door. She was in the car, driving away from the hospital when she recognized the emotion she’d felt as she’d left the room. It was one she hadn’t felt in a very long time...hope.
THE DAY AFTER being assured that Amanda Barrow was safely ensconced in the safe house, Aiden drove out to the farm where the Mannion farmhouse was bustling with activity. The air was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of roasting turkey, fresh baked pies, yeasty rolls and all the other items that were filling the table large enough, when the leaves were added, as they were today, to seat eighteen. In the center of the lace tablecloth Sarah’s parents had given them for their wedding so many years ago, was the centerpiece Amanda had sent from her nursery.
As glad as he was that she was temporarily settled and safe, Aiden was frustrated that her husband had disappeared, giving credence to his wife’s belief that he’d been planning his escape for weeks. Along with the country sheriff’s department and the state troopers, he’d been working with the FBI and US Marshals, because Eric Palmer had allegedly stolen sensitive government rocket secrets from the National Reconnaissance Office.
After entering the rental house where Amanda and Eric had lived, they’d discovered the manic-created chaos she’d described, including the laptop with the thumb drive on the desk beside it, but no Eric. A credit check showed he’d spent over a thousand dollars at a sporting goods store in Port Angeles.
“I remember the guy.” Joe, a bearded giant that looked a lot like Jarle, had helped Eric at the store. “We were busy that day, with Christmas shoppers, but you don’t forget a guy who says he’s going to go live off the grid in Alaska. That happens a lot, but sure as hell not this time of year. He bought snowshoes, poles, a ski jacket, pants, a balaclava and gloves. And an ice pick, in case, he said, he needed to build an ice cave, and said he’d watched a video on how to do it on the internet.
“He did say he had a tent, and the ice cave was just a backup plan. It was obvious he didn’t have a clue what he was doing, but hey, he didn’t want to listen to any advice about this being a bad time of year, so what are you gonna do?” He shrugged his massive shoulders. “I expect he’ll be found sometime around spring thaw between here and Alaska.”
“No way is he going to get to Alaska,” the lead FBI guy said as they left the store. “He’d have to cross into Canada. We can pick him up at one of the checkpoints whether he drives, takes a train or a ferry. And the police at the airport and TSA have his name and a photo.”
“He’s not thinking clearly,” Aiden pointed out. “But from what his wife said, he’s traveled internationally for conferences in the past, and they’ve been through the Peace Arch, which is the busiest, so he might go for that one, since it’s familiar. Though even during manic episodes, he’d probably be smart to realize he’d need a passport. He’ll also figure out that his lack of access to credit, now that his cards have been cut off, is going to prevent him from a long road trip.”
“Thus the camping equipment,” the FBI special agent said.
“Exactly. He’s probably still aimed for Alaska, but my guess is that he’s going to wait around here until he figures out an escape plan. Or swings back to normal.” Or at least what was normal for him, which had been enough for Amanda Barrow to keep trying to make her marriage work.
“One problem is that we’re talking about a lot of geography. Olympic National Park is a million acres, larger than Rhode Island. And then you’ve got Rainier, and Baker, and the forests. Washington State encompasses forty-three million acres, half of which is forested.”
“So, we’ve got a needle in a haystack situation,” one of the FBI guys said.
“It’s coming on winter,” Aiden said. “Even with all that gear, he’s probably not going to last all that many days.”
But they’d find him. Eventually. Unfortunately, the longer he stayed on the run, the slimmer the chances of finding him alive were getting.
“WOW, DUDE,” BODHI SAID, taking in the scene as they’d entered the house. “If I’d known your family made such a big deal of the holidays, I might’ve come home with you one year. This could be right out of a Norman Rockwell painting that should be corny, but it’s pretty awesome.”
Thanksgiving was the last day until Christmas that the Mannion family could all gather together for a meal. Because first thing tomorrow, come rain or shine, even before the sun rose, everyone would be setting up for the festival they’d been preparing for most of the year. Beginning with the spring tree planting, then later, the summer trimming to ensure all the trees were a perfect Christmas shape. The running joke among all the Mannion kids were that their parents had had five children in order to get so much free labor.
Gallons of cinnamon-spiced apple cider were waiting in a huge walk-in commercial refrigerator ready to be warmed, cookies that had been baked all fall had been taken out of the freezer to thaw, and wreaths and swags and sprigs of mistletoe tied with red velvet ribbons for hanging were waiting in one of the three barns to be put out for both decoration and sale. Seasonal employees hired from around the peninsula would continue to create more over the next month, and cut and wrap trees to secure onto the tops of cars or backs of trucks, and colored lights had been strung on the barn, fence, and farmhouse.
The old sleigh that John Mannion had bought at auction and equipped with tractor wheels, since snow was a rarity in this corner of the world, had been painted, as had the train that would take children and parents for a ride around the front part of the lot.
The farm offered three choices: choose your tree and have one of the workers cut it for you, cut your own, or buy one of the potted living trees meant to be planted once the season had ended. Over the years many parents would buy one for each child, and now the Mannions were seeing a second generation, with those children returning to buy a living Christmas tree for their own family.
Partly due to the fractious history between the Mannions and Harpers, his mother’s parents had originally forbidden her to date John Mannion. But over the years they’d carried on a secret romance and had even separated for a time to different corners of the world, but had eventually reunited, returned to Honeymoon Harbor, bought the farm and established the holiday tradition they’d both dreamed of back when they’d been younger than Aiden was now. The similarities between his parents’ romance and his and Jolene’s story gave Aiden hope that theirs would turn out the same way. If it didn’t, he was determined it wouldn’t be for his lack of trying.
Wanting, no needing, to see Jolene, if only for the few minutes while the FBI and Marshals went shopping for some heavier weight jackets and boots, he’d managed to arrive home before everyone had sat down to eat, so braving the kitchen filled with women, his eyes immediately found Jolene, who, even without standing out with her dark auburn and burgundy hair was even more of a beacon in a green-and-blue tartan pleated schoolgirl skirt, a dark blue turtleneck sweater, purple tights and a pair of black ankle boots. Hunger hit in his gut, and not for the enormous turkey that his mother had resting on a cutting board.
He was so concentrated on watching her mash a huge pot of potatoes, that she was the only person he saw until he heard his mother say, “Why, Aiden, what a wonderful surprise! We hadn’t expected you.”
“I can’t stay long,” he said, as he returned her hug. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop in and see if maybe you needed me to get something from the market.”
Given that the farm was on a dead-end road outside of town, that was definitely the lamest excuse he could have thought up. If he’d been that brain-dead while working undercover, he wouldn’t have lasted the first day. His only excuse, as his eyes locked over his mother’s shoulder with Jolene’s, was that every rational thought in his head had been washed away by the sight of those legs that, as Bodhi had said, went on forever.
The chemistry sizzling in the air didn’t escape Sarah. “No, we seem to have everything we need.”
“You sure?” he said. “No rolls, butter, peas, anything? Because I could run down to the market to pick them up for you.”
“We’re fine,” she repeated. “But Jolene, why don’t you dish up a bit of your amazing side dish for Aiden? It’s so delicious I’m not sure any will last for leftovers. And why don’t you take it to the sunroom, so no one can complain that you’re getting a head start on dinner.”
His mother was as obvious as he’d been about supposedly dropping by. But Aiden didn’t care. And neither, apparently, did Jolene as she spooned some of her corn into a porcelain bowl with a scene of a snowy old bridge on the bottom. His mother had brought out that same set of dishes for Thanksgiving and used them every day through New Year’s Day dinner for as long as Aiden could remember. Following Jolene out of the kitchen into the sunroom Seth had added during the last remodel, he enjoyed the sway of that plaid skirt.
“Sassy,” he said.
“I feel that way,” she admitted as he closed the door behind them. “I think you’ll like this. It’s three kinds of cheese, corn, bacon and chopped-up jalapeños. But of course you already know that, since you were in the market when we were buying the ingredients.”
“It looks great,” he said, taking the spoon and bowl and putting them on a side table next to the towering Christmas tree he’d helped decorate two weeks ago. The Mannions had always put their own trees up early because the weeks leading up to the day after Thanksgiving to December twenty-sixth were the farm’s busiest time of year. “But I’ve only got a couple minutes, five, tops, and want to taste you.”
She smiled and, without hesitation, walked into his outstretched arms.
As he gathered her against him, her female curves melded into his hard male body as if they’d been created to fit together in just this way.
Jolene lifted a hand to his cheek, her fingers brushing against the dent that would become that dimple that always pulled something elemental in her whenever he’d smile. “I’ve missed you,” she said.
“It’s only been two days.”
She looked up at him as he looked down at her and realized that he could see her unguarded heart gleaming in her eyes. The remarkable thing was gazing into his blue eyes was like looking into a mirror.
She’d once loved Aiden Mannion. Truly, madly, deeply. But it had been young love, created from a teenage girl’s dreams of what romance should be. As his beautiful dark hands with their long fingers cupped her face, she reminded herself that she was a grown woman. Sane. Realistic. And, okay, maybe Shelby was right about her being a bit cynical. A reasonable, adult woman couldn’t fall in love this fast. But even as her rational mind warned her of that, her newly opened heart felt neither rational nor cautious.
“Longer than that,” she said. “For years. And years.”
There. She’d said it. Those years she hadn’t dared fully admit to herself. A silence hovered between them, as he seemed to be taking that risky statement—that could once again cause her to end up with a broken heart—in. No one had ever looked at her like Aiden was now. So deep. And so long.
Just when she was no longer sure whether or not she was still breathing, it happened. His beautifully cut lips curved in that slow, wonderful smile that had always held the power to tangle her emotions and weaken her knees.
“You’re sure as hell not alone there,” he finally said, his gaze turning so tender, she nearly wept with relief.
Then, proving that actions spoke far louder than words, he dipped his head, touched his lips to her, and in that moment, a wonderfully blue sky that had opened up over the rows of Christmas trees outside the glass walls of the sunroom, the stunningly decorated tree from the family’s farm, this house, Honeymoon Harbor, the entire world and everyone in it magically vanished and there was only this man.
He tasted of sweetened coffee he must have picked up at Cops and Coffee. He smelled of that woodsy soap she’d remember him using all those years ago, of the rain that had been falling when he’d first arrived and the brisk aroma of fir trees and salt water.
Her lips parted on a pleased, inviting sigh at the touch of his tongue, which didn’t thrust, but instead skimmed along the arch of her top lip, then the bottom, nipping a bit. He took his time, drawing out the pleasure, as if they had all the time in the world, his mouth both soft and warm against hers, a quiet kiss, but still possessing the power to cause her heart to hammer and her head to spin.
How could he possess such patience, she wondered as he drew the kiss out, keeping it so exquisitely soft? So gloriously long?
Finally! He angled his head to deepen the kiss, when the ringtone of his phone shattered the moment and sent her crashing down to earth with a bang.
He drew his head back at the same time he pulled the phone out of his pocket. “Mannion.” When he heard the voice, he mouthed, “I’m sorry.”
She shrugged and gave him the resigned look that she figured cops’ significant others had been giving since the first prehistoric human had picked up a club and left the comfort and safety of the cave to protect their group. Their community. All those who couldn’t protect themselves.
His conversation was curt. Short. His expression had turned from tender to ice in less than a minute. “I’ll be right there. For now, just keep an eye on him. I’ll call the others. And have the sheriff’s department helicopter stay close enough to come in, but not so close it tips him off.”
“You found him?” she asked, reminding herself that not just Amanda’s safety, but the safety of anyone who might accidentally stumble across the man was more important than a mere kiss. Not that there had been anything mere about it. But still.
“That was the head law enforcement ranger in the park. He spotted Eric’s SUV inside the Hurricane Ridge gate last night, but there was no one in it, and some snowfall wiped out any footprints. One of the other rangers spotted smoke from a viewpoint.”
“In the campground?” She remembered that particular campground was open year-round. She also remembered from one less than successful Girl Scout skiing trip there, it was really, really cold this time of year. “You’d think he’d want to stay away from people.”
“In a way, if he’d been focused enough to check out the ridge ski calendar, that would’ve told him it doesn’t open until next week, there’d be enough campers, snowboarders, skiers and tubers up on the ridge that a lone guy might be able to fit in while he figures out his next steps. From the fact that he left his laptop behind, he’s probably running on instinct and adrenaline. He’s not in the campground, but the smoke wasn’t that far away.”
“He could be dangerous.”
“Amanda said they don’t have any guns,” Aiden said as they left the sunroom. “Let’s hope that’s still true.”
“Sorry, folks,” he said as he went through the dining area, where people were starting to sit down at the table. “Duty calls. Have a great Thanksgiving.”
Jolene followed him to the front door. Then, in full view of everyone, she reached up, pulled his face down to hers and kissed him fast and hard. “Stay safe,” she said. “And come back to me.”
He gave her a wink, as if this was like any other day. Which, to him, perhaps it had once been. “Don’t worry. I’m not in the habit of leaving things unfinished.”
With that he was out the door and down the steps. Jolene stood there, watching him speed down the long driveway toward the road. And, although she knew it was impossible, she thought she heard a whisper, like the wind in the trees.
“Don’t worry that pretty red head, Gidget. Everything will turn out excellent.”