Three Weeks Last Spring (10 page)

"The entrance to the Marina is just past the end of that breakwater."
He took his hand off the helm, and pointed as he spoke.
"The village is a short distance away.
We can walk or can you ride a bicycle?"

"Sure, it's like sex, isn't it?
Once you've learnt how, you
never
forget."
Skye blushed as the words tumbled from her mouth completely unbidden.
Her
lips trembled with a need to smile.
Finally her sense of
humo
u
r
overtook her embarrassment at her unintentional word choice.
Sh
e felt good, and
despite her earlier misgivings, she was glad she
came
.

Walker threw back his head and laughed heartily.
He knew she had a quick mind, but he hadn't appreciated how good she
was
at thinking on her feet.
The afternoon was turni
ng out to be full of surprises.
He quickly brought the boat alongside,
and
secur
ed
it to the quay.
Together they
followed
the footpath towards the exit.
When Walker sought it
her hand, Skye gave it freely.

They found the chandler's store and hired two ancient-looking bicycles.
Satisfied that Skye could indeed ride a bike without falling off after five yards, Walker
led the way to the village.

"Hungry?" he asked aft
er they had gone a little way.

Now that she thought about it, Skye
realize
d
that her stomach was beginning to gnaw her backbone.
She hadn't eaten since her scant breakfa
st with Debbie, many hours ago.

"Mm, coffee and a sandwich would be good."

"I think I can do better than that.
How about a bowl of the best clam chowder in the Pacific Northwest?"

"That good, huh?"

"I'll stake my reputation on it."

"And what if I disagree?" she asked, a
hint of challenge in her voice.

"Let's see…
"
Amusement flickered in Walker’s eyes as they met hers.
"I get to take you to dinner in the most expensiv
e restaurant in the San Juans."

"And
if you're right?"

A mischievous smile tipped the corners of his mouth.
"If I'm right, then you agree
to spend a whole day with me."

Skye considered her answer carefully.
She ignored the voice inside her head that wondered why spending time with him had suddenly become very importa
nt.

"Okay, you've got a deal."

Half an hour later, Skye let out a long sigh.
She mopped up the last of her clam chowder from the bowl with a piece of sourdough bread.
She had to admit he was right.
She
ha
d never tasted anything quite as delicious.
And she
ha
d tasted clam chowder from San Francisco to Seattle and places in between, but nothing
came
close to being as good.

Walker watched her obvious enjoyment of the si
mple meal.
"Well, am I right?"

Skye licked her lips.
"Okay, you win.
That was the best chowder I've eaten in a long time."

"In that case you owe me a day of your time, to spend how I choose."
He reached across the table, and brushed his finger against the side of
her
mouth in a gentle caress. "You missed a bit," he said huskily.

Skye gasped in delight. Her flesh burned where he touched her.
She watched riveted as he lifted his finger to his mouth and licked it clean.
Nervously, she moi
stened her dry lips. T
here was a far deeper significance to his actions than she was ready to contemplate.
An invisible thread seemed to draw her closer.
If she didn't do something now to break it, she would be unable to stop herself from falling headlong into his arms.

The sun was sinking fast
,
and only a small splash of orange remained on the horizon as they
sailed
back across the channel.
Skye hadn't
realize
d
it was quite so late
as she had enjoyed herself so much
.
High above in the darkening evening sky one or two stars were already appearing.
It would be dark by the time they reached the cabin.

Skye sh
ivered in the late spring frost, and
was glad of the slight shelter afforded by the boat’s windscreen and the warmth of the heavy sweater she wore. She wrapped her arms around her midriff, but still couldn't stop the odd shu
dder rippling through her body.

Walker's deep husky voice broke through the ever-darkening sky.

"If you're cold there's a jacket under the seat.
It's probably way too big, but at least it will keep the chill out.
Here, take the helm for a moment."
He took Skye's hand and placed it on the wheel beneath his own.
"Keep your eye on the compass and hold it steady on this heading."
His
warm, strong hand guided hers.
He
raise
d the seat on the port
side;
lifted out the old waterproof jacket he kept there, and dra
ped it around Skye's shoulders.

Suddenly, Skye found herself wrapped in Walker's arms.
Unconsciously she settled back, enjoying the feel of his body against hers.
Walker placed
his right
hand ove
r hers
where
it rested on the helm. His
left
circled
her waist, steadying her against the pitching of the boat.
Skye shivered again, but this time, it wasn't from cold—
but from
sexual desire.

Walker bent his head and rested his cheek against hers.
"See that light over there? Keep heading toward it.
Think of it as being like driving a car, the only difference is that t
he boat is slower to respond."

Skye could scarcely breathe.
The touch of his lips on her cheek was soft a caress as he spoke.
Several seconds passed before she felt able to respond and then
all she could do was
nod her head.

She stiffened slightly and drew in a ragged breath.
"This is a real bad idea," she said nervously.
"I always get confused between my right and left hand when people shout directions at me.
Ask anyone who knows me.
Debbie and I once set out to drive to Santa Cruz and ended up in Santa Rosa."

"Relax.
I'll make sure we don’t wander off course."

"Really," she said, and ducked out of his arms.
"I'd
much prefer to be a passenger."

Walker released her and allowed her to slide back into the seat next to him.
"
If
you're sure
?
We’ve not got far to go now
."

For ten long minutes Skye fought to control her swirling emotions.
Her feelings towards Walker were totally confused.
Only a couple of days ago she
’d
hated the sight of him and the mere mention of his name.
Now she found herself responding to his every touch.
Was it possible?
Was she really attracted to this arrogant, complex,
but devastatingly handsome man?

Walker watched Skye in the moonlight, and could see she was fighting an inner battle, and wondered if it was the same battle he was fighting.
There was no denying she was beautiful, just as there was no denying he wanted her.
But he was also sure that
she was somehow involved
in in his current investigation
, but he just couldn’t figure out where.
He'd never used a woman in his life and wasn't about to now, at least not if he could help it.
It was totally against his code of ethics.
But he couldn’t sit back and let his business go under without a fight, either.
Swearing under his breath was becoming an uncontrollable habit, he thought dryly.
Perhaps he ought to learn another language—it might give him a wider
choice
of expletives.

Deep in thought, Skye hadn't noticed Walker
had
cut the engines, nor did she feel the fender bump the dock, as the boat finally came to rest.
It was the sudden total silence that brought her out of her r
everie and back to the present.

Saddened that their afternoon together was
at
an end, she stepped off the boat.
Guided only by Walker's torch and the moonlight, she
was
quiet and withdrawn as she
strolled up
the path to
the cabin.
She blinked away the sudden tears that appeared for no reason that she could fathom, other than a f
ear of overwhelming loneliness.

Stopping midway, in an attempt to prolong their remaining minutes together,
s
he
realize
d she
no longer wanted to spend the night on her own, but what choice did she have?
She could hardly ask Walker to stay on the strength of a few moments in his arms.
It didn't give her any right to expect anything more, and even if
he
suggest
ed
he stay, was she ready to accept his offer?

Walker thought Skye was behind him, and turned only to find her standing all alone in the middle of the path.
He re-traced his steps,
stopping
barely a foot away from her.
Her upturned face was bathed in moonlight as she searched the heavens.
Walker raised his head to see what she was staring at.
The sky was alight wit
h a myriad of stars.

A knot rose in Skye's throat, making her voice soft and husky.
"Isn't that a wonderful sight?
We've so much light pollution in London.
You never get to see a star, let alone a sky full of them."
She dropped her gaze as her voice t
railed away to a whisper.

"I guess we're kind of lucky out here
,
" he replied.
"We tend to take nights like this for granted."

Walker held his gaze steady as he bent his head to Skye's.
Her eyes were filled with a curious deep longing that shattered all his resolve.
He reached out
,
gently touched her face,
and
brushed her lips in a feather-light kiss.
Slow
y, he
deepened
the kiss, his tongue
tracing
t
he soft fullness of her lips.

Bathed in the soft moonlight, they stood
wrapped
in each other's arms, their breathing ragged.
Skye was too stunned to speak, being far more shaken than she cared to admit by her response to Walker's kiss.
He had awakened feelings deep inside her, feelings that she had long ago buried, and never thought would resurface.

Walker
softly whisper
ed
her name
.
Keeping an arm around her waist,
he
guided her to the door.
He wished her goodnight, then, without another word,
strode
down the path to
his boat.

Skye felt suddenly and strangely bereft, as she stood in the doorway.
She shivered with chill and fatigue, as Walker and the boat vanish
ed
into the darkness.
S
he let h
erself into the darkened cabin and
shrugg
ed
off the jacket Walker had wrapped round her shoulder
s.

Moonlight filtered through the French windows, bathing the lounge in a strange ethereal light.
It was too late to start a fire so she settled for a nightcap of her
favorite
malt whisky.
Slowly sipping
the amber liqu
id
, she allowed
it
to warm her body.
She curled up in one of the large armchairs and closed her eyes, and relived every moment of the velvet warmth of Walker's kiss.

All day tension had crackled between them.
But even so, Skye
was
totally unprepared for Walker's sudden show of emotion.
His kiss had lasted for only a minute or two, but it had seemed much longer.
The caress of his mouth o
n hers had set her body aflame.

For the first time in many months, she felt truly alive and utterly feminine.
Her heart swelled with a feeling that she had thought long since dead
; o
ne that she was sure she was incapable of experiencing.
Although tired, she was content, and her last conscious thought before turning off the light and
going to
bed was that tomorrow
had never looked so promising.

***

Walker returned to the Lodge to find the light on his answering machine flashing angrily.
He was tired and frustrated in more ways than one.
He switched on the coffee pot and waited for it to brew.
The last thing he
needed
was yet another problem.
He spent
five minutes
get
ting
his
thoughts
together, before hitting the play button.
McCabe's voice echoed around the room.

"Walker, if you're there pick up," the disembodied voice demanded. "I guess you're out and about.
I thought you should know that the Seattle police stopped a tanker truck on the freeway this afternoon for some minor traffic violation.
The cop became suspicious when the driver couldn't say what was in the tank and
or
explain why a loaded truck wasn't displaying the obligatory tags.
T
he cop was young and real eager
, and
r
ather than let the driver off with a warning, he hauled him in.
The tanker is currently at the pound north of Seattle.
I thought you
might
want to examine
the contents.
Sorry this is short notice, but I only got to hear about it this evening.
G
ive me a call when you get in."

Already a
ngry,
Joe's message did nothing to improve his temper.
Walker punched in McCabe's number.
This was the first decent lead they'd had, and where was he?
Messing around on a boat, playing Romeo to his tenant's Juliet
.
Talk about stupid, idiotic, and bad.
McCabe answered on the second ring.

"Joe, I only just got your m
essage.
When did this happen?"

"About four-thirty this afternoon.
I didn't get to hear about it until three hours later.
I called as soon as I could.
I even tried your cell phone, but I guess you
ha
d turned it off."

"Yeah, I know, sorry about that.
I'll fly over first thing in the morning.
Where's the drive
r?
Has anyone questioned him?"

"As you might have guessed, he's a contractor.
Just told to go to this yard, connect his truck to a tank and drain the contents.
Cash up front and no questions asked.
You know the type."

Disgusted, Walker grunted.
"
And h
e had no idea what he'd been paid to haul?"
Illegal dumping was a big problem the whole world over.
The USA
was no exception.

"Nope.
He'll be prosecuted for the violation of course, and as a first time offender
will
probably get off with a fine, unless we prove he
carried an illegal substance, and planned
to dump it on an
unauthorized
site.
That's why I thought you woul
d want to test the contents, rather than have the County lab do it.
If my suspicions are correct, then maybe we could strike a deal, lessen the fine or sentence if he talks, but that decision will rest with the Public Prosecutor."

"Or his well paid lawyer,” Walker said.
"
W
e should be thankful he hadn't already dumped the load.
Give me the address of the pound and I'll either send one of my lab technicians over now if I can get hold of one, or go and take the samples myself in the morning."
He scribbled the address McCabe gave him on the notepad by the phone.
"Any news on the survey results yet?"

"I'll check up on that when I get to the office.
What time do you think you'll be here?"

"
M
id-morning.
There'
s someone I have to see first."

Late as it was, Walker considered returning to the cabin to tell Skye that he'd be unable to spend the
following
day
with her
.
He reflected on the sexual tension that had existed between them, and decided that challenging her to spend the day with him hadn't been one of his brightest ideas.
In fact it was the dumbest move he'd made since he learnt how to shave.
His bod
y however, thought differently.

He should call her, but then he
woul
d have to explain how he knew the number,
and
that
would
prompt more questions from the enigmatic Ms Dunbar than he was prepared to answer.
Walker dismissed that as his second dumbest thought, and finally settled on writing a short note.
He figured there were two possibilities.
She
woul
d either welcome the space, especially if she was as stunned
as he
by the chemistry that existed between them or she’d slam the door in his face.
Either way, he didn't have time for romance in his schedule at present—he needed answers and he needed them fast.
If Ms Dunbar was innocent, and things between them took their natural course, then she would merely be an interesting diversion.
If she was involved, even in a small way, then he'd make damned sure she rotted in jail along wi
th
any
accomplices.

Shortly after five
am,
Walker
freewheeled
his truck
down the track to
the cabin.
He stepped
out
from the behind the wheel, and had a quick look around.
There was no sign of life, but then no self-respecting tourist
would be up at that hour unless
they happened to be a masochist or up to no good.
He slipped his hastily written note from his jeans pocket, and
pushed it under the cabin door.

Five hours later, the lead that seemed so promising, fizzled out like a dying Roman candle.
As Walker and McCabe suspected, the tanker
carried
a lethal cocktail of chemicals, which, if the driver had succeeded in dumping, would have had repercussions on the
environment for years to come.

Alternatively, they
bullied and cajoled the driver.
Despite threats
of being jailed for years, he
steadfastly refused
to say anything, other than he ha
d been contacted by phone and offered an obscene amount of cash, which he found stuff
ed in his mailbox that morning.

Walker and McCabe were sure the site where the driver had filled his tanker had nothing to do with the production of the chemicals, and was merely a holding area.
The police agreed to watch the address on the off chance someone turned up, but realistically, they knew that whoever was behind this wouldn't use the site again
.

Walker was amazed that no one had been hurt, least of all the driver.
If the tanker had been involved in a traffic accident, the resulting catastrophe wasn't worth contemplating.
Walker's anger
beca
me a scalding fury.
These people made him sick.
They had no idea how many innocent liv
es they were putting at risk
.
Skin irritation, liver, stomach and fertility problems could all be linked to pesticides such as DDT and polychlorinated biphenyls or PCBs as they were more commonl
y known.

In the late 1970s, the USA had banned their production, but PCBs were still found in the environment, and mankind was now paying the price for thinking that it could dispose of these chemicals without first figuring out a way of making them safe.
Nothing like shitting in your own backyard, Walker thought ironically.

He and McCabe spent a long time with the District Attorney, finally persuading him to cut a deal with the driver.
It was agreed that charges would be dropped in return for a tap being placed on his phone.
If he were approached again, at least the police department w
ould be able to trace the call.

McCabe
also gave
Walker the news that the sonar survey had drawn a blank.
That filled him with despair.
He
was
so sure that something would turn up.
However, he was realistic.
He knew that extending the search area was out of the question and he was n
ow fast running out of options.

Although tired from his fruitless day in Seattle, Walker
returned
to the island.
There was nothing to keep him in town, he reasoned, and sleeping at the office
held
even less appeal than crawling into the cockpit of his plane.
He’d
put in more flying hours in the past month than he
ha
d
in the previous six.
If he kept this up he
woul
d have enough airtime to pilot a seven-forty-seven.

Just over two hours later
he
let himself into the lodge.
The house was cold, unappealing, and had a decidedly unlived-in feeling.
What he needed most was a long hot shower to wash away the fatigue and strain of the day, followed by a stiff drink.
He turned up the thermostat and
traipsed into
the
bathroom
.

With drops of moisture clinging to his forehead and a towel slung low over his hips,
he
entered the lounge.
He was about to pour himself a large scotch when a devilish look came into his eyes.
He replaced the stopper in the decanter, and walked over to the wine rack selecting a bottle of Woodward Canyon 1994 instead.
He placed it on the table before
dressing
in a pair of black slacks and smoke grey shirt.
With a sweater thrown casually over his shoulders, he grabbed his keys, cell phone, and the bottle off the table
.

T
he mellow sound of the saxophone
drift
ed
from the open window of the cabin
as
Walker
switched off the engine.
He sat and listened for a moment to the lush sound as it
floated on
the evening breeze.
You've got great taste in music, lady, he muttered to himself, idly wondering if
Skye’s
body would be as responsive as the instrument he was listening to.
Alighting from the truck, he picked up the bottle of wine from the passenger seat.
He
stepped up
to the cabin and knocked on th
e door.

"Hi, I know you weren't expecting me."
He gave Skye a boyish grin.
"I got free earlier than I expected and thought you might like to share this with me."
He held up
the bottle for her inspection.

Skye paused
in
the door
way
and offered a welcome smile in return.
There was something lazily seductive in
Walker’s
eyes
that she was unable to resist.

"
You’re right,
I wasn't expecting you.
Yo
ur note said a couple of days."

Walker's gaze took in her rich auburn hair, and nutmeg skirt, the slim waist, and the outline of her full breasts under the bronze shirt.
He took a deep breath.
He could smell her perfume, a heady oriental fragrance that seemed to echo her very essence.
His body moved up a gear as their gaze locked.

"I
f it's too late, we can leave it to another time."
He turned to leave.

"No, no, don't go, you've timed it right
.
I was just about to have dinner.
It's nothing fancy, but you're welcome to join me," Skye said.
She stood to one side to let him
pass.

"Well, only if you're sure
it’s
no bother."