Caching Out (14 page)

Emma
felt the warmth from Tate’s hand on her brow as he pushed a stray hair from her
face. He was so close she could feel him breathing. She wanted him to kiss her,
but would it be the first step down the same disappointing path they’d already
traveled? She felt Tate lean away and took the opportunity to stand, gathering
their empty plates. “It’s been a long day. I think I’ll turn in now.” 

In
the darkness, Tate’s smile faded. He’d almost kissed her, almost crossed that
point of no return and it had taken what? A few hours and one steak? Seriously?
He had zero self control with that woman around and the fact that she was so
close wound him in knots.

He’d
done his best to keep the conversation light, asking about friends and
co-workers in the city and she’d done the same. Polite conversation. It was the
only safe space they could share at this point. That and business of course,
but he’d seen the crack in her armor. She wanted him as bad as he wanted her,
but then what? Checkmate.

Tomorrow
Tate was sure Emma’s FBI façade would be back in place again as she became the
tough, insightful investigator he knew she was. She’d always been that good; he
could just never entertain the thought of losing her and in the end, he’d lost
her anyway.

CHAPTER 22

Gavin
dodged a large grey-white granite boulder, then went up and over the next one
in his path. This formation of rocks marked the northern boundary to the Pine
Ridge Reservation and although the dirt road leading to the site was rutted and
dusty, it was easily accessible.

Following
the directions on his GPS, Gavin whistled under his breath. “This is my kind of
place. Serious cachers only, private and four finds in the last two weeks.” 

Just
across the road was public land and beyond that the Badlands National Park. Squatting,
Gavin felt under a rock ledge until his gloved hand made contact with the cache.
Still whistling under his breath he popped the top off a yellow margarine tub.

Looking
into the cache, he frowned, “Same old crap here. Let’s add something
interesting to the mix.” Reaching into his jacket pocket Gavin pulled his token
out caressing it for a moment before dropping it into the container. “Perfect. Just
need to get the show set up and we’re all done here, Gav.” 

He
slid the cache back into its hiding spot and pushed some gravel around the
ledge making sure the cache was hidden from view. Stepping back, Gavin surveyed
the area looking for a good place to set up his camera. “Hmm, no trees.” 

Securing
the mini-cam between two boulders, Gavin angled the camera upward, certain that
the device could do its job in spite of the bad location. Pulling his jacket
off and tying it around his waist he stepped back through the rocks. At the
edge of the site he slid down a small incline to the unpaved road below where
he stood with his hands on his hips and lifted his face up to catch the fading
rays of a South Dakota sun. Soaking up the warmth he whispered, “Won’t be long
now, Mama. You’ll see. They’ll come.”

Still
whistling, Gavin crossed the road and slipped into a thicket of pine and cedar
growing on the other side. He’d set up camp a few hundred feet into the
fragrant woods and thanks to the state contract he was working, he knew that
his wi-fi signal at camp would be perfect.

Earlier
in the day he’d entered the Badlands National Park, hidden his car in a remote
area and then hiked through the woods to this particular spot. He wouldn’t be
missed and presumed lost because he’d registered as a day use guest, meaning
that he would leave before the park closed. He’d never understood why the park
system thought it was important to register guests coming in but didn’t count
them going out.
Hell, anyone could be in these woods or in the park after
normal hours. 

Gavin
knew that it might take a day or two before anyone came looking for the cache,
but he didn’t care, time was one of many things that he had. Every year
thousands of tourists came to see the Black Hills and to visit either the State
Parks or National Parks that were carved into thousands of acres across South
Dakota. There had been Indians living in the Dakotas for hundreds of years and
the state was rich with history. For the nature lovers the scenery was
breathtaking.

Stepping
into the primitive camp and sitting on the pine-padded ground, Gavin opened his
laptop to check the view from his camera. As the cache sight popped up on his
screen he smiled. “So far so good, Gav, my man. Now you wait.” 

The
woods were shadowed and cool under the tall trees and Gavin already noticed a
drop in temperature as evening approached. He’d dressed in layers when he’d
left this morning, knowing that the extra clothes would assure he could survive
a cold night or two in the woods. Untying the lightweight jacket from around
his waist Gavin pushed his arms through the sleeves and pulled the zipper up.

Need
to get a fire going; it’s going to be a cold night.
He gathered
fallen branches and twigs, and then stacked the wood in the middle of a small
circle outlined by rocks. Stuffing dried pine needles around the wood, he
pulled a box of matches from his pocket. Gavin lit the needles and stood back
watching the flames grow.

Taking
a seat near the fire his back resting against a tall pine, Gavin fished a
granola bar from his backpack and tore the wrapper open. Loving the anonymity
and solitude of being alone in the woods at night he leaned forward and tossed
another branch on the small campfire, watching as sparks formed a blinking
ribbon of color rising into the darkness. The occasional pop of burning wood
providing the night’s only sounds.

Fantastic
night for a campout, Gav.
 Crossing his legs in front of him, Gavin watched
the flames change from red to yellow and the shadows dance on the ground while
he finished his granola.      

Gavin
pulled his sleeping bag free from his backpack and rolling it out close to the
fire, he pushed pine needles into a pile and slid them under one end of the bag.
“Ahh, nature’s pillow.”  

Gavin
tugged the cover up, zipping it half way and then turned away from the mystical
rhythm of the dancing flames and closed his eyes. He willed his body to relax
and sleep. Slowing rocking himself, Gavin tried to ignore the gut-deep ache
that called to him. He needed someone to take the damned coin or, at the very least,
he needed to watch one of his recordings.

“No
movies tonight, Gav, gotta save battery power for now. It won’t be long.” The
tension inside him built faster than ever before and he knew only one way to
relieve it. Feeling helpless, he thought of his mother and how she’d always
read to him until he fell asleep as a child.

“She’d
know how to fix this,” he whispered, remembering how she would hold him and
rock him when he’d been scared.  

Turning
to his back, Gavin propped his hands behind his head and stared at the night
sky peeking through the trees. Stars twinkled at him from miles above the earth
and he cursed the shiny token that he’d placed in the cache hours before. The
coin intrigued the cachers, forcing them to take it, but they weren’t the only
ones enslaved to the coin. He was a prisoner as well.

CHAPTER 23

Emma
woke the following morning to the rich smell of coffee followed by the ‘get
your butt up’ aroma of frying bacon. Stretching, she burrowed a little deeper
into the covers and thought of the mornings when she and Tate were married. Tate
was always up before sunrise. He loved the freshness of a new day, when the
grass was still damp with the night’s’ dew. He’d sneak out of the house and jog
in the park near their apartment, returning to shower and start breakfast
before she’d ever opened an eye.

Her
face heating, Emma thought of the mornings when she’d only pretended to be
asleep and some of the more creative and down-right erotic ways that Tate
employed to wake her up.

Wrong
way to start the day, Emma
, she groaned. Tossing the covers aside, she slid
from the bed and slipped into the bathroom for a quick shower.

Tate
heard the shower running and frowned. Secretly he’d hoped that Emma would need
a little help getting up this morning and he knew just the right way to wake
that woman up. He clenched his jaw.
Don’t go there, Echo, you know how the
story ends so there’s no reason to read the book again.
 

His
mood soured, thinking of all the things he wanted but couldn’t have. Tate
turned back to the waiting pan of scrambled eggs and reached for a spoon. He
shoveled eggs onto two plates just as Emma entered the kitchen. God, she looked
amazing. Her hair, damp from the shower hung loosely down her back. Emma wasn’t
one of those women who took hours to dress, she wore just a touch of make-up
and today she had only a shimmer of something creamy peach on her lips making
her look young and fresh.  

She
smiled, “I see you still like to start your day with a full plate.”

Nodding,
Tate handed her a steaming plate of bacon and eggs and gestured to the table
where two glasses of orange juice stood waiting.

“Mmmm,”
Emma closed her eyes, groaning in pleasure as she took a bite of eggs.

Watching
Emma’s face as she ate Tate felt his mood lighten at her pleasure. That was his
Emma. She gave herself completely whether making love or, well, eating eggs.

 
His
Em. Wrong.

Emma
looked at Tate, the smile on his face was teasing. “What? It’s not like I get
this kind of breakfast every day. Most of the time it’s a granola bar and some
juice. I’m in Utopia right now, so I would appreciate it if you didn’t make fun
of me!”

Tate’s
laugh rumbled deep in his chest before erupting in the small room. “Emma Echo,
I have missed watching you eat. Among other things,” his voice trailed.

Her
smile was mischievous and infectious so they sat there grinning at each other like
kids in a candy store window. A call on Tate’s cell broke the spell. He stepped
into the living room to take the call. When Tate returned to the kitchen, Emma
had finished her breakfast and was rinsing her plate. The moment was gone.

She
turned and smiled at him, “So what’s on the agenda today, Chief Echo?”

Leaning
on the counter, Tate reached to turn the coffee maker off, “I want to start
with a full review of both the Parker and Babcock cases. Chances are you’ll be
able to pull out some detail that Martin and I missed. Then we’ll make a run by
both the murder sites if you want. I will need to let Martin know that we’re
going out to the lake since the Babcock case is officially his.”

“Give
me a sec to grab my computer and my jacket then I’ll be ready to go,” Emma
said.

Arriving
at the courthouse, Tate steered Emma into his office without stopping for his
usual good morning chat with the desk clerk on duty. He switched the coffee
maker on and opened the blinds to allow the morning sun to streak into the room.
He wasn’t ready to explain who Emma was or answer any questions about why she
was here and he certainly didn’t want to field any questions about their
relationship, past or present. What he couldn’t avoid were the curious looks
that several members of the force tossed his way.

“Let
them wonder about it for a while,” he muttered.

Studying
a large area map hanging behind Tate’s desk, Emma pointed to the push pins
marking the map and asked, “These are the kill sites?”

Nodding,
Tate moved to his desk where he pulled out the folders on both cases, sliding
them across the desk to her. Emma already knew about the geographical
differences in the two cases, but the map allowed her to see just how far apart
the murders had occurred and gave her a good feel for the size of Shannon
County. Taking a seat across from Tate, she opened the Parker file and read the
reports from the ME’s office and those completed by his own department. Next
she moved to the photos in the file laying them out in time-line order on
Tate’s desk.

Filling
two mugs with coffee Tate plunked one down on the corner of his desk for Emma before
taking his seat. Watching Emma’s face as she read, Tate was reminded of just
how beautiful she was. Right now, her face was scrunched up in concentration as
her eyes scanned the pictures on his desk. She had pulled her silky hair out of
the way and it hung over one shoulder, the dark strands begging him to reach
out and touch their softness. Tate wondered how he’d ever had the courage to
walk away from her, job or no job, family or no family. Wouldn’t having her in
his life any way that he could have been better that what he had now?  Sighing,
Tate knew the answer to that. He could have stayed, hell, he wanted to stay,
but what would the compromise have cost in the long run?  Reassuring himself
that he’d done the right thing was easy, it was better to walk away while he
could still love her than stay and watch their dreams die one day at a time.

Sitting
back in her chair, Emma picked up the waiting cup of coffee and took a sip
before she spoke. “Okay, so tell me what you know and then tell me what you
think.”

Tate
smiled at her. Emma had always been direct and to the point when she was
working and some things didn’t change.