Dead Girl Running (Cape Charade #1)(69)
“I wasn’t hinting!” Kellen remembered Birdie, and no matter what Kellen felt right now, Birdie needed time off. “But Birdie and I would like to go somewhere sunny.”
“I’m glad to hear you’ve relented at last. Do we have enough employees to keep the resort running?”
“Yes, but only because we have so few guests.”
“I never thought I would say that’s a good thing.” Pause. “Did Max make it?”
“Yes.” Kellen inserted a pause of her own. “He’s gone to acquaint himself with his security team, for what they’re worth.”
“What did you think of him?” Annie sounded anxious and nervous.
“I barely met him.” Already she’d spent too much time with him. “He seems fine. He knows the sheriff, and that’s good.” I knew him before, didn’t I?
“Max is a Renaissance man. He knows about security and resort management, and wineries and… Well, he’s very accomplished.”
“So you’ve said.”
“Am I overselling him?”
“A little.” And that makes me wonder why.
“I simply want you to feel as if you can trust him to do his job.”
That was a good reason why. “Thank you, Annie. I’m glad to turn security over to him.” In the background, Kellen heard a burst of noise, children’s voices shrieking in wild delight as they ran through. “You need to go and enjoy your vacation. I’ll talk to you later!” She hung up before Annie could say goodbye, sat and looked at the telephone. She should be asking probing questions, asking for honesty.
Maybe later, when the murders were solved, the Librarian arrested, winter had ended, world peace had been declared…
She wanted to know, but she didn’t. Ignorance was comfortable, safe, without challenge. She was, in fact, tired of standing tall and facing all confrontations with her chin up. She wanted to slump for a while.
Although she and Max did sort of click. Until he thought she’d be glad to run away from her responsibilities. Damn him. Until that moment, he was doing so well.
That evening, she sat with all the lights in her cottage dimmed and watched out her bedroom loft window, watched to the west and the way leading up from the dock.
She saw nothing.
That meant nothing.
The smugglers could be out there with special lights and drones that allowed them to see in the dark, with guns and bombs and traps, and all to bring a few bloodstained relics to a greedy smuggler and his wealthy, grasping collector of illegal goods. Kellen thought about Afghanistan, the battles she had fought, the deaths and destruction she’d seen, and fury held her in its grasp. She hadn’t carried a rifle through the treacherous mountains so Americans at home could break the law and fund the very terrorists she’d fought.
Fate led Cecilia in a straight line from the hospital to stand in front of an Army Recruiting Station. She looked in the window at the two people in uniform seated at desks inside. She looked back in the direction of the hospital, looked around at the busy streets, the indifferent people. Danger stalked her here. She didn’t know what danger, but she knew something terrible had happened and she needed to get out of this town. What better way to disappear than into the massive organization called the US military?
Pushing open the door, she walked in. Her mind immediately assembled a catalog of data on the officers:
ARMY RECRUITERS:
ONE MALE, ONE FEMALE, PLEASANT AND BRISK, SKEPTICAL WHEN LOOKING ME OVER, DISCOURAGING ABOUT MY CONDITION AND ABILITY TO PASS THE STRINGENT PHYSICAL. PRODUCE STERN WARNINGS ABOUT DRUG USE. IMPRESSED BY KELLEN’S DEGREES, SATISFIED BY PHOTO ID.
The male recruiter, Sergeant Barnes, said, “With these credentials, we’ll send you to Officer Candidate School.”
“If you pass the physical,” Sergeant Rehberger snapped. She was more realistic, less hopeful of Cecilia’s chances.
Cecilia nodded at her. “I’m good with numbers, data structure, patterns.” As she spoke, her mind was collecting more information about the recruiters, this station, how to turn the details of this situation to her advantage. She could give answers that they wanted to hear, because by their body language and by logic, she could anticipate their needs.
She had never had this gift before, but she knew how to use it now.
They put the paperwork in front of her. She filled it all in without hesitation, using Kellen’s New York address, Kellen’s birthday, Kellen’s degrees. She was, she realized, being Kellen Rae Adams in every way. She got ready to sign and date the forms. “What day is this?” she asked.
Sergeant Barnes said, “May twelfth.”
Then she scrawled Kellen’s signature and passed over the paperwork.
The recruiter ran through it all, asked a few questions, got to the end and laughed, scratched out the date and passed it back. “I know—I still get the year wrong, too. Initial the change, then we’re on to the next stage.”
That was when she discovered she’d lost more than a year of her life.
Lost it, apparently, forever.
Someone knocked on her front door.
She clutched the arms of her chair. She knew who was there.
Another knock. The bell rang.
“Bastard.” She stood and clattered down the spiral stairs. She looked through the peephole, then flung open the door. “What a surprise,” she said in a voice heavily laden with irony.