Gull Harbor (16 page)

Mopping the back of his neck with his shirt, he paused and gazed out at the silver-blue water of the Atlantic. The ocean stretched out endlessly before him, and he tried to internalize the peaceful view. He said a silent prayer of thanks to John F. Kennedy for having the foresight to create the Cape Cod National Seashore. Thanks to the former President, some forty miles of pristine beaches and delicate ecosystems remained protected from development.

Max descended the steep slope of the path, leaving his shoes at the bottom of the massive dune. The hot sand scorched his feet as he crossed the beach to the water’s edge. He walked along the foamy residue of the lapping waves, headed toward Gull Hollow.

He almost missed her. Like the parking lot above, Gull Hollow Beach was filled to capacity. Towels, umbrellas, and coolers delineated claimed territory like colorful boundary markers, and scantily-clad bodies were everywhere. Claire had a tiny swatch of property, and she was curled up on a blanket behind her chair.

Her face was turned away, but her mass of burgundy curls glinted in the sunlight. Picking his way through the throngs of sunbathers, he circled around her yellow-and-white-striped chair.

She was asleep, lying in a fetal position in the rectangle of shade provided by the high back of her chair. Something about the way she was curled up in the tiny shadow made his heart soften.

He couldn’t bring himself to wake her. Standing over her, he watched a flutter of movement behind her closed eyelids. His gaze traveled over the swell of her breasts, then lingered on the soft, vulnerable flesh of her belly. He wondered what she was dreaming about for a moment before pushing the thought away.

Frowning, he helped himself to the bottle of water resting in the cup holder of her chair. The brutal heat had warmed the liquid to a temperature that was less than refreshing, but he forced himself to drink a few swallows. He replaced the bottle and took one last look at her sleeping form.

With a shake of his head, he adjusted the chair slightly to compensate for the movement of the sun. Satisfied that she was safe from sunburn at least, Max turned and began walking back the way he came. She needed the sleep. The impending argument could wait, at least for a few more hours.

Chapter 21

The inside of her car was an oven. She started the engine and stood outside the open door, watching families packing up from their day at the beach. Two parking spots away, a young mother dusted the sand off her toddler’s feet as the father loaded bags and toys into the back of their SUV. They looked hot and exhausted, and yet Claire could see the underlying bonds of love. She sighed wistfully and spread a towel over the baked vinyl of her driver’s seat.

In less than five minutes, she was back in her driveway. Darker clouds were gathering in the western corner of the sky, and the air was still with the promise of the approaching storm. Claire pulled her bag out of the car and hurried around to the back of the house. She was sticky and sandy, and she wanted to shower off outdoors before the weather changed. It would be just her luck to get zapped by a rogue bolt of heat lightning.

“Look out,” she announced, glancing at a tiny toad crouched in the shadowy space between the shower floor boards and the exterior wall of the house. She turned on the water and he hopped away lazily, exiting under the wooden shower enclosure to burrow in the surrounding ivy.

The nap had made her feel slightly better, although her mood had not improved much. Maria had been injected with drugs, against her will. Why? She had to figure out what had happened here. And Max…she didn’t even know what to do with the rush of emotions that bombarded her every time she thought of him. Since this morning, she had tried to keep the pain and fury walled up in a heavily guarded compartment of her brain.

She scrubbed shampoo into her scalp roughly, wishing she could rid her head of thoughts of Max along with the salt and sand clinging to her hair. Dropping her head, she watched the foamy suds skate along the slick wood of the shower stall and disappear between the slats.

“Claire?”

Snapping her head up, she spun around with a shriek. Her foot slid out from under her, and she crashed to the floor, slamming her elbow on the way down. She sucked in a breath as the handle lifted and the shower door swung open.

“Are you okay?” Max asked worriedly, staring down at her.

“Hey!” she yelped, trying to cover her nakedness with her arms. Her elbow throbbed at the sudden movement and she winced in pain. “Get out!”

His eyes darkened as they traveled over her wet skin. Despite her anger, her stomach fluttered traitorously. Their gazes held for a heartbeat, and then she glowered at him and repeated her instructions firmly. “Did you not hear me? Get out of here!”

He stepped back, closing the door. “Are you okay?” he asked again.

“Yes,” she snapped, her cheeks growing hot. Glancing down, she tried to imagine what she had looked like from his perspective.
Ridiculous
was the only word that came to mind. Was there no end to the humiliation he was going to put her through?

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said apologetically.

“Oh, no?” She pushed herself up on shaky legs, still feeling exposed, even with the wooden door between them. “Then don’t sneak up on me while I’m showering outside of a haunted house. It’s not rocket science,” she added, injecting as much acid into her tone as possible.

“Well, I thought about parking across the street and watching your house for a while instead, but that seemed like a waste of time.”

She dropped her head in defeat, letting the tepid water run down the back of her neck. “You saw me?”

“Of course I saw you.” His voice was steel.

“Well, I saw you too!” she cried.

“And what exactly did you see?”

She twisted off the faucet forcefully, biting her lip in frustration. What game was he playing? “I saw you leave the house with Katie this morning. Are you going to try and deny it?”

“No. Katie was there. But you’re being absurd. She’s twenty-one years old, Claire.”

Reaching for her towel, she yanked it over the top of the shower stall and clutched it to her chest. “So? You’re twenty-seven,” she pointed out. She wrapped the thin towel around her body self-consciously, as though he could see through the door. Once she had it tied, she felt slightly more in control.

“She’s my employee.” The simple words were delivered in a tone that barely hid his aggravation.

A warning bell echoed in the back of Claire’s mind, silently suggesting that she calm down. She ignored it. “That doesn’t make her less cute,” she replied hotly.

“She’s also my best friend’s niece. You’re acting like a child, Claire. You’re jumping to some pretty insulting conclusions.”

“And now
you’re
insulting me.” She folded her arms across her chest protectively and glared at the door that separated them. “What was I supposed to think? We had a fight, and then a few days later I see you leave your house in the morning with another woman. A woman who didn’t happen to have her own car with her.”

“Don’t think next time. If you want to know something, just ask.”

“Oh, right,” she said, laughing bitterly. “Because the last time we had a little misunderstanding, you were so forthcoming. Let’s see, all it took was five years, a chance meeting, and a few rolls in the sack to get an explanation out of you. What a relief to know I can just ask from now on.”

She set her jaw triumphantly, waiting for his reply. The only response she received was a rumble of distant thunder. Then an engine turned over, and she heard the faint crunch of tires backing out of her rocky driveway.

Too far,
the warning voice whispered in her head.
I told you so.

With a sigh, she pushed open the door and peered out into the yard. Max was gone, as she knew he would be. Her shoulders slumped as she leaned against the shower stall. “We make a great team, Maria,” she murmured. “Between the two of us, we can get rid of anyone.”

It was for the best, she decided, walking along the round pavers to the back door of the house. She wasn’t cut out to have a relationship with anyone but the dead. Twisting the knob, she blew out an exasperated breath. The door to the kitchen was locked, and her keys were in her beach bag on the front porch.

She took a step away, then froze as the knob slowly turned. The door opened with a gentle sigh. Claire hesitated a moment before crossing the threshold; when she finally entered, cool air swirled around her in an icy embrace. “Thanks,” she whispered, shivering in her towel. At least someone was happy to see her. Hot tears pressed against the backs of her eyes as she padded toward the front of the house and climbed the creaky stairs that led to her bedroom.

****

Sunday evening was the best time to drive to the Cape, Gary reflected as he glanced out the window at the dark waters of the canal below. Everyone else was headed in the opposite direction, trying to get home after a weekend at the beach. The intermittent rain showers of the afternoon had clearly not persuaded people to leave Cape Cod early.

He maneuvered his car easily over the narrow bridge, squinting his eyes against the glare of oncoming headlights. Hundreds of cars waited on the other side of the Bourne Bridge for their turn to cross—the price the vacationers paid for trying to stretch out every last drop of weekend fun.

He pressed a cigarette between his lips as he curved around the exit that would bring him to Hyannis. There were plenty of no-tell motels in the seedier part of town. He would find one where he could hole up for the night; he needed to chill before he traveled further up the bent arm of the Cape toward Gull Harbor.

The OxyContin was calling him. His stash was under the passenger seat, pushed up into a slit he’d made in the faux leather. He’d allowed himself just one pill before he set out from Connecticut; he could not afford to get pulled over, and the Oxy sometimes made him dizzy. But now it had been four hours since his last dose, and the burning ache of withdrawal was starting to gnaw at his bones.

He exhaled a lungful of smoke in an angry rush. How had he fallen into this trap? He knew better than to get addicted to this shit. It was this Claire Linden situation—it was making him crazy. The sooner he took care of this, the better.

And yet he knew he would need to bide his time. He wasn’t sure he was ready to believe in ghosts, but this Claire bitch was getting her information from somewhere. He had to find the source. If she really was getting these ideas from dead people, that was fine by him. Fewer loose ends that would need tying up. He could arrange for her to join her ghost friends, and they could talk to each other all damn day.

He scratched at his crawling skin. Getting involved with that Latino girl had been a huge mistake. His mind drifted back to the hazy morning he’d set out on his boat to meet the
Barracuda
for the usual exchange.

The larger boat was waiting, a faint gray shape in the pre-dawn darkness. Gary tied his own boat off the
Barracuda
’s leeward side and climbed up the pilot’s ladder, a wad of cash strapped around his waist in a zippered nylon pouch. The captain of the
Barracuda
materialized silently, carrying Gary’s product.

The captain took the money, counted it, and then held up his finger in a “wait” gesture. He called out something in Spanish, and a crew member appeared, pulling a teenage girl by the arm.

Gary stared at the girl, confused. “What is this?” he asked gruffly. Sweat pooled under his arms as he tried to maintain his composure. These meeting of theirs had been taking place off the coast for over a year now—Gary thought they’d established a level of trust. Surprises were not welcome during these types of transactions.

“She needs to get to shore,” the captain explained in English spiked with an accent. He moved the girl toward Gary. “You take her with you,” he finished.

“Are you out of your mind?” Gary spat back. “She’s an illegal. I’m not taking that kind of risk. I’ve got enough to worry about.”

The captain shrugged. “She paid me for passage to America.”

“Yeah, she paid
you
. What’s in it for me?”

A mean grin showcased the captain’s yellow teeth. “You disappoint me, my friend.” And then he said the words that convinced Gary to relinquish his better judgment and bring the girl back to shore with the rest of his contraband.

Chapter 22

Sleep was out of the question. Claire tossed under the sheets, listening to the patter of rain hitting the window. The window that Max had fixed, she thought miserably. Why had she let him back into her life? Loving people was a recipe for pain.

She rolled over with a sigh. It would be preferable to talk herself into believing she didn’t love Max. But denial wouldn’t help. Years ago, she had loved him with her whole heart, her entire soul—and apparently, her reckless heart and her undisciplined soul were more than willing to resume this destructive habit.

Had she ever even stopped loving him? A soft moan escaped from her lips and was answered by a roll of thunder. Despite her reluctance to acknowledge it, she knew the truth—and it was terrifying. She would be captive to these powerful, enduring emotions forever. If his initial betrayal hadn’t been enough to destroy her love, it was unlikely that this latest episode would change anything.

To make things worse, she had the sinking feeling she had somehow misinterpreted what she had seen this morning. The possibility that Max hadn’t slept with Katie should have been a welcome relief; instead, it brought her to a deeper level of despair. She had jumped to the wrong conclusion, maybe…and she had reacted impulsively. But it all came down to trust. Even with forgiveness, she and Max would probably never have the trust necessary to sustain a relationship.

Not that it mattered. He was probably done with her for good, and dwelling on the repercussions wasn’t helpful. There had to be something more productive to occupy her thoughts.