Sanctuary Cove

Emma choked on her wine. Grabbing a napkin, she held it to her mouth for a few moments until she could swallow. “Where did that question come from?”

“I’ve seen how the two of you look at each other. Not directly—but when you know the other isn’t paying attention. You can’t tell me you’re not interested in Josh.”

“Didn’t you say he had a bad breakup recently?” Emma asked. She could feel the heat rise to her cheeks. “I’m sure you’re reading us wrong.”

“I know Josh, and he is interested in you.” Sherri savored another strawberry. “Mmm. I might not know you that well, but I’d say you’re attracted to him, too. Am I incorrect?”

When Emma stayed silent, Sherri continued. “So what’s holding you back?”

“I don’t want a relationship,” Emma blurted out. “Besides, it’s hard to imagine a guy like him wouldn’t be with someone already.”

Sherri shook her head, sending her dangly silver earrings dancing. “Nope. He hasn’t seen anyone for months. Bad breakup, remember. And good-bye and good riddance to Crystal, if you ask me. Also, if he was with someone, he wouldn’t be sending off those signals like he does with you. Josh isn’t like that.”

“Why aren’t the two of you together, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Are you kidding? Josh and me? I haven’t thought about him romantically since I was about ten. For his part, he’s always considered me like a kid sister. I’ve known Josh a long time. His sister, Angie, is one of my closest friends. As kids, Angie and I were inseparable whenever their family was in Sanctuary Cove. I spent so much time at their place during the summers, Josh and I virtually grew up together. Over the years, he’s become a good friend. I’d like to see him happy with someone. But that someone is definitely not me.”

Loud cracking sounds from the direction of the forest caused Emma to jolt and she nearly toppled her wineglass. Max was instantly alert and up on all fours. “Was that what I think it was?” she asked.

Sherri frowned and nodded. “Yep. Gunshots.”

Emma thought of the beautiful white-tailed doe she’d seen just that morning, and pushed out of her chair. The thought of a hunter trespassing on her property outraged her.

Sherri put down her glass and joined Emma and Max by the window.

At the sound of another series of shots, Emma winced. She’d check the regulations and, if warranted, report the occurrence to the authorities, she decided.

The incident left them in a more subdued mood. Regardless, when Sherri left hours later, Emma felt they had the beginning of a friendship. She cleared away the plates, glasses and empty bottle. She checked to see if the person who’d called earlier had left a message but there was no voice mail. Grabbing Max’s leash, she took him for a long, brisk jog down the driveway and along Otter Creek Road. When they returned, her skin was flushed and damp with the exertion, despite the chill in the air.

Emma retrieved her laptop from her office, made herself a cup of tea and took both out to the back deck that overlooked the lake. The property dropped off steeply from the north end of the cottage, toward the shoreline. More gardens were visible from here, each boasting a dazzling array of colors of her late blooming perennials. Sipping her tea, she watched a great blue heron skim gracefully above the lake’s mirrored surface to alight delicately in its marshy end. With keen eyesight, speed and agility, it plucked its dinner of fingerlings out of the shallow waters.

Emma heard the mournful call of a loon and its mate’s answering cry, followed by the jarring ring of her phone inside the cottage.

Putting her mug aside, she went in with Max following.

“Emma, this is Daniel Leighton,” the caller introduced himself as soon as she answered. “You’ll remember—”

“Yes. I remember.” Just hearing his voice caused Emma’s palms to sweat. “But I don’t think we have anything to talk about.”

“I understand how you must feel, Emma, but I need to tell you something. Morgan knows about the information I have.”

Exasperated, Emma strode across the room. “The information? I believed you. My fiancé didn’t. But I believed you, and I tried to get Richard—Richard Peterson, he was my fiancé—to resign his contract, too. He wouldn’t and our relationship consequently fell apart. And you’ve not used that so-called information in an article. At this point, do you really think I care what Morgan knows and whether you deceived me or not?”

There was a short pause. “I was entirely truthful with you.” His voice was low and earnest.

“Then why didn’t you run your story? It’s been months.”

“Morgan’s attorney pressured the paper. Threatened, actually. That attorney was your ex-fiancé. Our lawyers were concerned about how I’d gotten the copies of those checks for the payments to Morgan. The Advocate’s editor refused to run my story.”

Emma dragged her fingers through her hair and wished she hadn’t answered the phone. “Then what do you want from me?” she asked, deflated.

“Morgan’s aware I haven’t dropped the story. He also knows I’ve been approached by other papers. Through some convoluted legal channels, he recently learned what I have on him, although they couldn’t force us to turn over copies of our records.

“You’re probably aware that Morgan has formally declared his interest in seeking the nomination to be the Democratic candidate in the next presidential election. If the story does break, it will be a huge hit to Morgan’s chances, perhaps enough to derail his candidacy.

“I’ve given the police everything I’m able to, and they’re investigating. Although I doubt Morgan realizes that yet.”

Emma moved to the sofa and sat down. Max followed and settled next to her. “I’m sorry, but what does that have to do with me?”

“Up until now, Morgan and his people would only have suspected what I have on him, but now they’re certain. Knowing I met with you and when, they more than likely deduced that I shared some, if not all, of the information with you. I suspect Richard would have corroborated it, if you told him.”

Emma couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I don’t have anything to do with any of that now.”

“Granted, but they might also think you gave me information. I know you didn’t, but they don’t know that. Depending on how much they shared with you while you were under contract to Morgan, they might be worried about it. My understanding is you’re not one of their favorite people. I also suspect I’ve been followed at times. Probably to keep an eye on me, to avoid surprises for them. All I’m saying is, be careful.”

“I’m sorry to sound harsh, but aren’t you overreacting, Daniel? What Morgan might or might not have done, wouldn’t he be better off leaving matters alone? Especially since he was able to quash your article? If what you’re suggesting is true and he gets caught, wouldn’t it make matters worse for him?”

“A valid point, but there’s more at stake here than even I suspected. I’ve reported it to the police, even though there’s not much they can do about it. Just stay alert. If anything odd happens, call the police.”

The police?

“And speaking of the police, they will probably want to talk to you.”

“Me? Why?” She was horrified.

“Because you worked for Morgan at a crucial time. You were part of his inner circle.”

“That’s ridiculous and you know it! I didn’t have any information. That was part of the problem. That he wasn’t transparent with me.”

“I just wanted to give you a heads-up so you wouldn’t be surprised if the police contact you.”

Emma thanked Daniel for the call, although the last thing she was feeling was thankful.

It was late evening when Emma poured herself a glass of wine and took it out to the deck. Max stretched out at her feet as she sat at the table. The sun had dipped below the tree line on the opposite side of the lake, staining the lower sky a blazing crimson, and radiating streaks of vivid color above. The lake’s surface shimmered iridescent red and orange.

The sorrowful call of a loon reverberated across the lake again, this time without response. Emma wondered where his mate was and sipped the last of her wine as the final smudges of color bled from the night sky.

Later still, with only the moon and stars to light her way, she gathered up her things and headed inside, Max trailing behind her.

After cleaning up the dishes, Emma climbed the stairs to the top floor. Her bedroom was a spacious room with a high, peaked ceiling and large, soaring windows overlooking the lake. There were smaller casement windows on each end wall, and she opened these to invite in the cool night air, along with the trilling of the cicadas.

She changed into a sleep shirt and climbed into bed. As she stared out a window, she realized that for the first time in weeks it wasn’t regret, despair or anger she was feeling. Rather, a sense of calm and even hopefulness filled her—despite Daniel’s warning—as she drifted into sleep.

Max’s growl woke her. Groggy with sleep, she glanced at her bedside clock. It was nearing midnight. She spotted Max, his front paws braced on the windowsill, his body tense. She listened intently for what might have disturbed him, but heard only the usual nighttime noises.

“Come on, Max. Go lie down.”

Max ceased his throaty growl and glanced back at her. “Off the windowsill,” Emma instructed, and motioned toward his bed. Max pushed off and turned in a circle, but then rose up to rest his paws on the ledge again.