Alpine Hero (36 page)

“Any luck?” I called as he trod gingerly over the rocks. His feet must have been numb inside the high boots.

“Not even a bump,” he replied, his breath coming out before him in wispy puffs. “The river’s too high. It’s off-color. I saw bear tracks upstream.”

Standing up, I nodded. Those were all good reasons for not catching the elusive steelhead. But an empty creel doesn’t mean that the fisherman hasn’t had a good time.

“What are you doing here?” the sheriff inquired, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his fishing vest.

I tipped my head to one side, feeling strangely shy. “I never got to thank you for saving my life.”

“Ah.” Milo offered me a cigarette. I took it. He flicked his lighter, first for me, then for himself. But he didn’t say anything more.

“You did something wonderful—and terrible. Are you okay?” I peered up at him through a haze of blue smoke.

“It stinks.” Milo started for the trail that led to the parking area.

My Jag was parked next to his Cherokee Chief. Milo opened the rear door of his vehicle and began breaking down his rod. “You don’t just shoot somebody and walk away,” he said, not looking at me. “It doesn’t matter if the guy’s a homicidal perp. You can’t shrug it off.”

“I know.” I bowed my head. “Frankly, I feel guilty. You did it for me.”

Milo’s grin was lopsided, embarrassed, ironic. “No, I didn’t. I couldn’t see who was inside with Trevor.”

It had never occurred to me that even in the candlelight, the sheriff probably couldn’t identify the other person in the living room.

“Damn,” I breathed. “And I thought you wanted to save me!”

Milo eased the rod into a cloth case, then tied it shut. “Well, I did. I mean, I would, if I’d known it was you.”

A sudden thought occurred to me. I plucked at the sleeve of Milo’s down jacket. “Hey—my car was parked there. You must have known it was me.”

Milo still avoided my eyes. “I didn’t see your car. I saw Trevor’s van. It blocked out your Jag. I went off the drive, through the trees, just in case he was watching for me. Then I saw that broken window out back, and figured he’d gone inside that way. But it was kind of small for me to get through, so I decided to take out one of the picture windows in the front.” As he spoke in his not-quite-so-laconic voice, Milo slid the rod in a rack, checked his bait box, and got his walking boots out of the Chief.

My guilt began to lift, but it was replaced by a hollow feeling. Milo hadn’t shot Trevor Whitman for my sake. I had been a cipher, a mere symbol of the Endangered
Civilian. Trevor had been armed and dangerous. As usual, Milo had gone by the book, and it wasn’t a romance novel.

“Oh, well,” I said, more to myself than to Milo.

He was pulling off his hip boots. “I’m glad Honoria isn’t coming back,” he said, the remark seemingly from out of nowhere. “Whatever we had got lost the other day.”

“You mean the murder?” A few snowflakes were beginning to drift down. The sun had retreated from its battle with the clouds.

Milo shook his head. “I mean the other night at your house.” Finally, the hazel eyes rested on my face.

“Oh.” I tipped my head to one side. “I thought you’d forgotten.”

Milo gently cuffed my chin with his fist. “Hell, no! What do you think has kept me on an even keel the past couple of days?”

“How would I know? I haven’t seen you since we were in Startup.”

“You know something?” Milo said, gazing up at the ominous sky. “I like talking to you, Emma. You say things.
Real
things, not made-up conversation. Honoria always wanted to talk about
topics.
”

I knew what Milo meant. Perhaps our romance, if that’s what it was, lived in our verbal exchanges. It wasn’t sexual sparring, which is filled with taunts, teasing, and provocative innuendos. Milo and I talked because we liked and trusted each other. Intimacy was grousing about our jobs, worrying over our kids, asking for lamb chops, and pointing out mustard on chins. We were comfortable together; we enjoyed each other’s company.

“Will we ruin everything if we … ah … move to
another level?” I asked in a small voice. Already it seemed that the specter of sex made me tongue-tied.

Milo was arranging my hood over my inelegant haircut. “Could be. It happens. But how else will we know?”

“Know what?”

“You know.” He brushed my forehead with his lips.

“I know.” For just an instant I pressed my face against his chest. Solid. Trustworthy. Reliable. Strong. My catalogue of Milo’s virtues made him sound like a used car. Maybe that’s what we all were—somebody else’s discards, somebody else’s newfound delight.

“You had breakfast?” he asked.

“No. The Venison Inn?”

Milo sighed. “Sure, why not? I’ve got to face the folks eventually.”

“They think you’re a hero, Milo.”

“Bull. They don’t know shit about heroes.”

Maybe not. But I did.

In Alpine, murder always seems to occur in alphabetical order …

THE ALPINE ADVOCATE
THE ALPINE BETRAYAL
THE ALPINE CHRISTMAS
THE ALPINE DECOY
THE ALPINE ESCAPE
THE ALPINE FURY
THE ALPINE GAMBLE
THE ALPINE HERO

 … and you can be sure Emma Lord, editor and publisher of
The Alpine Advocate
, is there to report every detail.

THE EMMA LORD MYSTERIES

by Mary Daheim
Published by Ballantine Books.
Available wherever books are sold.

THE ALPINE ADVOCATE

As editor-publisher of
The Alpine Advocate
, Emma Lord is always in search of a good story. But when Mark Doukas, heir to the richest old man in town, is murdered, Emma gets more than she bargained for.

THE ALPINE BETRAYAL

Dani Marsh—former Alpine resident, now Hollywood star—returns to Alpine for some location shooting in the Cascade Mountains, only to become embroiled in the murder of her ex-husband. Once again, Emma Lord’s nose for a story leads her straight into trouble.

THE ALPINE CHRISTMAS

It’s Christmastime in Alpine, and that means snow, carolers, Christmas trees … and murder. The discovery of one woman’s leg and another woman’s nude, half-frozen body in the lake leads Emma Lord and her House & Home editor, Vida, into a deadly holiday.

THE ALPINE DECOY

The arrival of a young African American nurse in Alpine is news enough in this predominantly white community. When a second newcomer—a young black man—is found dead, Emma Lord believes that something sinister is afoot.

THE ALPINE ESCAPE

When Emma Lord decides to take a few days off, she expects some time alone to do some soul-searching. Instead, she is caught up in a century-old mystery: her friends have found the skeleton of an unknown young woman in their basement.

THE ALPINE FURY

The Bank of Alpine has been an Alpine fixture for generations, but suddenly something fishy seems to be going on. Emma Lord decides to investigate—and finds the bank’s sexy blonde bookkeeper strangled to death at a local motel.

THE ALPINE GAMBLE

The year’s biggest news story is the development of a luxury spa around Alpine’s mineral springs—and the controversy surrounding it. But even those who predicted that the spa would bring sleaze and “Californicators” didn’t expect to be confronted with murder.

The Emma Lord Mysteries

by Mary Daheim