Every Step She Takes (Who's Watching Now Book 2) (4 page)

“This time of year, the sun doesn’t set until after eleven.”

“By then I’ll be sound asleep.”

They were quiet for the rest of the hike down to the lake. Grace headed out to the dock and dropped onto the rough, weathered boards. Pulling off her shoes, she dangled bare feet in the chilly water. There was still a good chance Sutton would show, and she wanted an excuse to hang around and wait.

Travis strolled along the lakeshore, his loose stride full of masculine grace. She couldn’t help noticing the way his broad shoulders filled out his white T-shirt or how the faded denim of his jeans hugged a superior ass. Closing her eyes, she repeated her latest mantra.
No more meaningless relationships.

The boards beside her creaked, and her eyes popped open. The college boy gave her a shy smile as he passed, heading to the end of the dock. Travis was nowhere in sight, but the fishing enthusiast, Andy something, was standing with his hands on his hips, staring across the lake. Their big, burly host walked out onto the porch and shook an old-fashioned cowbell. Its rhythmic gonging shattered the silence. Apparently, dinner was served.

Archer, if she remembered his name correctly, paused beside her on his return trip down the dock, gray eyes not quite meeting hers. The kid was good looking in a refined, budding professor sort of way. All he needed was a pair of horn-rimmed glasses.

“Are you coming inside?”

She squinted up at him and pushed her hair over her shoulder. “I’ll be along in a few minutes. I’m feeling too lazy to move.”

He nodded and left. Alma and Judith hurried out of the woods and headed straight to the lodge. Something stirred in the thick bushes edging the rocky beach. The hair on the back of Grace’s neck rose as a long brown snout and dull eyes emerged. Not a wild animal. A mongrel dog so skinny its ribs poked out beneath a matted coat. She sat perfectly still as the creature crept closer, practically crawling on its belly. Slowly she pulled the pretzels from her bag, ripped open the packets and dumped them on the dock. Step by step, the dog inched closer. Wolfing down the snack, it gave her a furtive look before scurrying back to the bushes.

Poor thing, alone in this inhospitable place without a dumpster in sight. Not an easy environment for a stray—or a city girl. She was ready to turn tail and run for home. Sitting with her knees tucked under her chin, Grace stared out at the endless forest, looking for the errant guest.
Where the hell is Sutton?

“He’s been gone how long?” When Guthrie French’s brows shot up under an unruly mop of black hair, Travis lowered his voice. “Maybe he didn’t get the message I was joining him.”

“Cell service is non-existent up here. Unless he went down to Moose Flat to retrieve his voice mail...”

“That would explain it.” The smell of cooking bacon made his stomach growl. He’d eat before making any rash decisions.

Damn Fritz for sending me on a wild goose chase.

“Mark left a rough itinerary of where he planned to hike. I insisted. If something happened out there, and no one knew where to start searching for him... Well, you can understand my concern.”

Thank the Lord for small favors.
“I’m glad someone was looking out for his welfare. If you have camping equipment I can rent, I’ll find him on the trail.”

“I do have a supply of backpacks and tents. Quite frequently one of our guests chooses to spend a night or two in the backcountry. Your buddy makes a habit of it.” He scratched the side of his neck and frowned. “You’re sure you wouldn’t rather wait here? He said he’d be back by the beginning of the week.”

Travis shook his head. “I enjoy backpacking, and I’m not inexperienced. You won’t have to send Search and Rescue out looking for me.”

His host eyed him up and down then finally nodded. “I’ll set you up after breakfast and give you a copy of Mark’s itinerary. With a decent topographical map, you shouldn’t have any problem finding him.”

“Thanks, Guthrie.”

“You bet.”

The bear of a man lumbered toward the kitchen as Travis stepped out onto the porch. Though it was still early, the sun had risen hours before. It glistened on the lake where two canoes floated. The pair of elderly fishermen and the guy from Salt Lake City were getting an early start. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned against the porch rail, wishing he could spend the day with a fishing rod and a few beers. Damn Sutton, anyway.

“Morning.”

Travis turned as the screen door slapped shut. Grace held a mug of coffee between her palms. Eyes closed, her lips curved as she inhaled the fragrant aroma. Wearing a pair of ultra-short shorts that bared long, tanned legs and a faded sweatshirt with a winery logo across the front, she made every hormone in his body sit up and take notice. The blood in his head drained south, and he grabbed the rail to steady himself.

“You ought to come with a warning label.”

Her eyes opened, bright green and full of amusement. “Yeah, what should it say?”

“Nearby objects may self-combust.”

“Hey, I like that one.” She turned to face the lake. “I thought you were going fishing this morning?”

“My plans changed.”

It had taken every ounce of his willpower the previous evening to talk sports with Lou Russo instead of suggesting a long walk along the quiet lakeshore with Grace. They hadn’t exchanged more than a few words, though his gaze had drifted her way every time she laughed with the geriatric fishermen who regaled her with stories from their youth.

“Su...”
Christ, just looking at her puts my brain in neutral.
He cleared his throat. “My buddy, Mark, is on a backpacking trip. I’ll head out to meet him after breakfast.”

Coffee sloshed over the rim of her cup as she raised it to her lips. “You mean walking miles every day and sleeping in a tent?”

“Yep. Our hosts rent equipment. I’ll probably be gone a few days.”

“Hmm.” She stepped to the rail and looked up at the mountains. “Do you know where you’re going?”

“I have a good idea, or I will as soon as Guthrie gives me Mark’s itinerary. I don’t mind spending a couple of nights on my own.”

“What if he isn’t where he’s supposed to be?”

His eyes narrowed.
Why does she care?

Her attention focused on the bushes down by the dock as she sipped coffee.

Nothing more than idle curiosity—he hoped. “I’ll brush off my tracking skills and find him.”

She glanced back, the cup suspended halfway to her lips. “You know how to track?”

“I’m not an expert.”

“Still, it’s kind of cool.” She blinked a couple of times, long lashes sweeping her cheeks.

His heart rate picked up speed. Damn, he bet she did that on purpose to befuddle gullible males, and he was the first to admit he was hooked. Forcing his gaze away from her full, pink lips, he cleared his throat. “I’m starving. I think I’ll go see if breakfast is ready.”

“It is. Berta asked me to tell you when she poured my coffee.” The impish twinkle in her eyes was back in full force. “Guess I forgot.”

“Somehow I doubt it was my magnetic personality distracting you.”

“I don’t know about that. I have a feeling you could keep a girl guessing.”

* * * *

Grace stuck the scrawled itinerary complete with map in the copy machine and pushed the button while keeping an eye on the empty hallway. If Guthrie French or Travis found her... She jammed the original back in the folder and hurried to the office door. Voices echoed down the hall, but no one was in sight.

With a sigh of relief, she headed for the stairs, giving Archer Nielsen an absent smile as she passed him on the way down. Mission accomplished. Now to wait until Travis left to convince Guthrie she wouldn’t come to some bad end if he turned her loose in the wilderness. It would be an easier sell if she believed it herself.

In her room, she studied the highlighted trail on the map. It started at the lodge and followed a circuitous route around a couple of blobs she guessed were mountains before eventually meandering back to the starting point. How hard could it be? If she hiked in the reverse direction of the arrows, surely she’d stumble upon Sutton on his return trip.

Squinting, she stared at the legend on the bottom of the map and blinked. That couldn’t be right—could it? Could one inch really equal ten miles? Her index finger was about three inches long... Bending it along the highlighted line, she did some mental math and choked. Sutton couldn’t possibly have planned a ninety plus mile hike, could he?

She no longer doubted it
was
Sutton out on that trail. She’d caught Travis’s slip and had nearly called him out on it then and there. Caution held her mute. Until she knew what his stake was in this game, she wasn’t about to show her hand.

Through the open window, a familiar voice caught her attention. Scooting off the bed, she pulled back the curtain. Travis talking to the husband of the family group who occupied the room next to hers. A fully loaded backpack hung from his shoulders. With a salute to the man, he headed toward the trail they’d followed yesterday.

Time to move. Grace found Guthrie French in his office with a pile of bills and a checkbook. The folder where she’d found the map still rested on the corner of the desk. Knocking lightly on the open door, she pasted a confident smile on her face and prepared for battle.

He smiled back at her. “Something I can help you with?”

“Travis mentioned you rent camping equipment. I’m going to need a backpack, a sleeping bag, and enough food to last a couple of days.”

He was shaking his head before she finished speaking. “I really don’t think that would be a good idea. If you want to hike, there are some spectacular vistas easily reached on a day trip.”

“I’m sure there are, but I’m here to work out my problems with Travis. A few nights alone with him should do the trick.”

Guthrie opened his mouth, shut it then opened it again, a wary look in his eyes. “Travis didn’t mention the two of you are acquainted. In fact, he’s off to meet another friend.”

“Mark.” Her expression was all innocence—at least she hoped she hadn’t lost her touch. “He came up here to visit his old buddy and cool off after our big fight. But I’m determined to hash out our differences. He was probably afraid if he said anything, I’d make a scene.” She giggled. “You know how women let their emotions get the best of them at times.” A few flutters of her eyelashes, pouting lips...
success!

His craggy features softened. “I suppose if you’re with Travis, you’ll be safe enough. Still—”

She reached out and patted his arm. “You wouldn’t want to stand in the way of true love, would you?”

“Travis left a few minutes ago. What if you can’t catch him?”

She flexed her arm and grinned. “I’m in great shape, and I’ll travel light. I won’t need a tent or a stove or anything. Travis has all that. I’ll catch him in no time.”

Eyes glazing over, he cleared his throat. “You certainly seem—fit.”

“I am. If we don’t waste any more time...” She willed his butt out of the chair.

Miraculously, he stood. “Ask Berta to organize some food while I find a small backpack and a sleeping bag. You’ll need a pad and a water purifier, too, just in case. Drinking out of these streams will give you a horrible case of Giardia, and that’s not something you want to risk.”

Her eyes widened. “I’m not sure what that is, but it sounds awful.”

“Intestinal bacteria.”

Just thinking about it made her stomach clench. “By all means, throw in a purifier.”

Convincing Berta was a second hurdle, but she finally got over it. With food packed and possessions sorted, taking the bare minimum, she hefted the backpack and set out an hour later. Already the sun beat down with debilitating force. Her tank top was drenched in sweat before she’d gone a mile.
Isn’t Alaska supposed to be the land of icebergs?
She’d give up lattes for a week for a little San Francisco fog to cool things down.

The temperature was probably only in the mid-seventies, but carrying the pack made it feel hotter. Shifting the straps, she tried to ease the strain on her shoulders. The stair climber at the gym was a whole lot more comfortable. Why anyone would backpack for fun—

A rock skittered and rolled on the trail behind her. Spinning with the awkward pack, she grabbed the bole of a nearby tree to steady herself. The leaves of a bush with red berries shook and settled. Her heart pounded.

“Is someone there?”

Nothing but deafening silence and the sow of the breeze through the trees. High on the branch of a cedar, a blue jay squawked. Standing perfectly still, she tensed when a bushy-tailed squirrel skittered across the path with a second squirrel in hot pursuit. Her muscles relaxed. She wasn’t alone. It only seemed that way.

She forced herself to quicken her pace. It wouldn’t do to catch up to Travis too soon, but she didn’t want to get left behind, either. Following the established trail was easy enough, but if Sutton left it, she would need Travis’s tracking skills to find him.

Who is Travis Barnett, and what’s his business with Sutton?

When it came to a story, Grace liked to have all her ducks in a row. Knowing half the flock was running willy-nilly around the pond left her with an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Travis was an enigma, and she was dead certain he knew a whole lot more about Casey Sutton than he was pretending.

She readjusted the pack. “Old friend my ass.”

The trail climbed more steadily than she did. Grace wiped sweat out of her eyes, pausing occasionally to drink from her water bottle or eat a handful of the trail mix Berta French had provided. Shaking the last of the snack into her hand, the light breeze sent the empty bag sailing off her fingertips. She turned to grab it and saw a streak of brown shoot into the bushes.

Pressing a hand to her chest, she backed slowly away. The handful of nuts, pretzels, and dried fruit rained down onto the trail. The bush shook, and a long brown snout inched forward.

If the animal didn’t get her, surely she’d die of fright. After the monster in the bush finished with her, they’d need dental records to identify her remains. Blood roared in her ears as she pictured the headline.