In His Sights

The house sat amid a private stand of tall fir trees and gave her a glimpse of the sound below. She’d put a porch swing in the corner where the view was best, and sat there often regardless of the weather. In fact, one of her favorite things was to be wrapped up in a warm throw in the cold air, listening to the rain on the porch roof and feeling the moisture in the air.

She’d had very little time to do that lately, however. She’d been so distracted by what was happening at Redstone that she’d rarely gotten home before dark. She spent her time trying to solve a mystery, and was missing most of what was turning out to be an incredibly summerlike fall here in the Northwest. They’d barreled through September in the mid-seventies, and October was starting out the same way. She had the feeling they were going to go straight from summer to winter, probably overnight.

She should probably be glad, she thought glumly, that she had the mess at work as a diversion. Otherwise she’d be dwelling on the mess of her life. Obsessing about how badly she’d misjudged the man she’d married. Wondering if she’d ever trust a man again.

And most of all, missing her baby girl.

“Do I smell coffee? Can I beg some?”

Kate went still at the sound of the sleepy, masculine voice behind her. But her grandmother smiled and said a cheery “Good morning, Rand,” while her grandfather gestured to the pot and said “Help yourself.”

“Thanks.”

She didn’t turn to look at him. She didn’t have to; she could see him perfectly well, reflected in the black, glassy front of the refrigerator. He stretched, expansively, the movement lifting his T-shirt to expose a strip of flat, muscular abdomen above the waistband of his jeans. He ran a hand through his tousled blond hair, yawned, then finally set off toward the coffeemaker.

Kate noticed he knew right where to go for a mug, and for some reason that bothered her. But her feeling of probably selfish perturbation evaporated when he politely brought the carafe over and, when they nodded, refilled both her grandparents’ mugs. He then gestured at her with the still half-full pot, but she shook her head and he put it back on the heating plate.

She waited for him to open the fridge for milk, just to further show how at home he’d made himself. But apparently he drank his coffee black because he came back to the table, pulled out a chair and sat. And managed to accomplish it anyway—he did look completely at home.

Not only that, but her grandfather actually put his paper down. Folded it up and set it aside, something she couldn’t remember ever seeing while there were parts still unread. She glanced at her grandmother to see how she felt about the fact that this interloper could apparently accomplish with ease what she’d been trying to do for decades. Her grandmother was smiling, so obviously it didn’t bother her. Which made it bother Kate all the more.

“Why don’t I give you a hand with that gate before I head out, Walt?” the fair-haired boy said.

“I don’t want to hold you up,” her grandfather protested.

“No problem. I’m not on a set schedule.”

“Must be nice,” Kate muttered, goaded by his easy familiarity.

“I imagine you always have a set schedule,” he said. She tried not to flush; she hadn’t really meant to say that loudly enough for him to hear.

“Yes,” she said.

“Redstone keeps you busy?”

She gave him a wary, sideways look. “Yes.”

“You hear a lot about that company,” he said. “What do you think of them?”

“I work in a very small part of Redstone,” she said. “But if you mean are they as good to work for as you’ve heard, yes, they are.”

“What exactly is it you do?”

“Distribution.”

And that was enough Q and A for her. Her grandparents may have opened their life books for this man, but she wasn’t about to.

“Don’t you have pictures to take?” she asked abruptly.

He shifted his gaze to her. He looked at her for a moment, in a steady, assessing way that gave her the awful feeling he thought she was acting like a child. As perhaps she was, jealous of the way he’d beguiled the two people she loved most in the world.

“Eventually,” he said easily. “At the moment I’m still looking around.”

“Try going out to the lighthouse,” her grandfather suggested. “Some good views from there, if you can catch a clear enough day.”

“That’s the trick,” her grandmother put in. “But a clear day here is worth ten days anywhere else, so it’s worth waiting for.”

So, everybody’s delighted with this guy except me, Kate thought as he waved a cheerful goodbye and headed out. Perhaps if she hadn’t spent so much time in big cities, she’d be more trusting.

Or gullible, she amended silently.

Not that Gram or Gramps were stupid, not by any stretch. But they were trusting, like many small-town folks. Too trusting, she thought, remembering the boarder who had listened with every evidence of genuine interest and appreciation to her grandparents’ suggestions about photos and locations.

He was too good to be real, she thought. And didn’t it just figure that the most attractive man she’d seen in ages wasn’t just far too young, he was far too charming?

What’s she hiding?

Rand had lost count of how many times that question had popped into his mind yesterday in her grandmother’s garden. And again now, as he followed Kate Crawford. There was no doubting she was hiding something. Every time the subject of her work came up while he was around, she either dodged it or changed it immediately. And she did it with that edge that always seemed to appear in her voice and manner on those occasions.

If she was involved, he thought, she needed to work on her poker face.

Maybe that was it. She just acted guilty. But would somebody who had managed to pull off these rather clever thefts really be so awkward about hiding it?

He slowed the rental vehicle as she slowed her nondescript, mud-spattered coupe up ahead. If she was making any sudden and large sums of money, it hadn’t turned up in her lifestyle yet. At least, not in her transportation.

It was difficult, in this small town with minimal traffic, to maintain a proper tail. There weren’t lanes full of cars to hide among, and there were countless unmarked gravel roads that could be streets or simply driveways for a car you were trying to surreptitiously follow to turn down. And on the often curving roads lined with tall trees, it would be the easiest thing in the world to lose a pursuer, if that were the intent.

But it apparently wasn’t Kate’s intent, at least not today. Or else she didn’t even realize he was behind her. He wasn’t sure if that meant she was innocent, or just never expected to be followed. Just how much protection did she think this remote piece of country provided?

He had to swerve wide to avoid three bike riders who insisted on riding side by side, and who in fact cheerfully waved and smiled at him as he went around them, making his irritation seem a bit petty.

When he was safely back in his lane, he had barely enough time to glance down the Redstone driveway and assure himself that she had really made the left turn and gone to work. When he was past it he pulled over, let the bikes he’d just passed go by him again, then made a U-turn. The camera bag on the seat beside him shifted, and he pulled it back as he parked in a turnout behind some large trees a few yards back from the road to Redstone.

It was a spot he’d found in his initial exploration of the area. It didn’t seem to belong to anybody, or at least anybody who cared enough to fence it off, so he figured the car would be safe enough. And more important, out of sight.

He opened the camera bag, dug out the camera body and the smaller zoom lens he’d brought. He often used a digital for work, and he’d brought that too, but for this he wanted film. It looked more like the real thing to most people, especially if it was to appear in print as he’d hinted. Besides, he might need the more powerful lens.

When the camera was loaded and ready, he got out and locked the car; no matter how safe this place was, he didn’t want to have to deal with the hassle of a burglary with the gun inside or having the rental car stolen. Then he slipped on his small backpack, slung the camera over his shoulder by the contoured strap, grabbed the camera bag and started through the woods. He didn’t worry much about encountering anyone; he’d always been amazed at what he could get away with by the simple device of carrying a professional-looking camera. People seemed to expect photographers to be a bit eccentric, and to blithely trek into strange places looking for the perfect shot.

As he was about to blithely trespass onto Redstone property. At least, his undercover persona was about to; as a member of Redstone security, he had open access to any Redstone facility, but as Rand Singleton, photographer, he could have some explaining to do to keep his cover intact if he was caught.

He made his way through the trees carefully. The ground was already partially obscured by fallen leaves, and on unfamiliar turf it made it difficult to be sure you were stepping down on solid ground. When he was into the woods several yards, he turned to his left and started up the rise. When he’d scouted this place out yesterday, he’d found a perfect spot to set up a surveillance. There was a small break in the trees, giving a view of the towering, rugged Olympic Mountains, a vista well worth photographing.

That the spot also looked straight down on the Redstone plant was, he would insist to anyone who asked, purely coincidence.

Slipping off his pack and setting it and the camera bag down, he stood for a moment, marveling at the view. Those were some very serious mountains, he thought. He’d spent a rough few days in the Andes once, and hiked a long stretch through the Rockies, and these mountains were just as impressive in their own way.

He had to remind himself what he was here for. He dug through his camera gear bag, set up his portable tripod, attached the camera, then aimed it at the most dramatic stretch of rock and glacier he could see. He doubted anyone would spot him up here, but if they did, his story was ready.