White Lies Read online

  “Where?” Jay asked, sitting up eagerly. Just the thought of being able to get out of the Jeep and stretch her legs was pure heaven.

  “In that stand of pines, just to the left.”

  Then she saw it and sighed in relief. It was just an ordinary cabin, but it was as welcome as a luxury hotel. It was tucked just under the trees, visible only from the front. Because it was built on a slope, the front was higher than the back; there were six wooden steps leading up to a porch that ran all the way across. Built onto the cabin at the back was a lean-to for the Jeeps, and thirty yards to the rear was a shed.

  They parked under the lean-to and stiffly got out, arching their backs to stretch aching muscles. The air was so cold and crisp that it almost hurt to inhale, but the setting sun was painting the snowy peaks and ridges in shades of red, gold and purple, and Jay stood motionless, entranced, until Steve nudged her into motion.

  It took several trips to carry everything in; then Frank took Steve to the shed to show him how the generator worked. Evidently someone had already been up to turn it on, because the electric lights worked and the refrigerator was humming. Jay checked the small pantry and refrigerator, and found them fully stocked with canned goods and frozen meats.

  She gave herself a short tour of the cabin. Next to the kitchen was a small utility-mudroom with a modern washer and dryer. There was no dining room, only a round wooden table and four chairs in one corner of the kitchen. The living room was comfortably furnished in sturdy Early American, with brown corduroy upholstery. A brown-and-blue hooked rug covered the wooden floor, and one wall was almost entirely taken up by an enormous rock fireplace. There were two bedrooms of equal size, connected by the cabin’s lone bathroom. Jay stared at the connecting door, her heart beating a little faster at the thought of sharing a bathroom with him. She knew the intimacy of damp towels hanging side by side, toiletries becoming jumbled together, a shared tube of toothpaste. His whiskers would be in the sink, his razor on the side. The small details of living together were at least as seductive as physical intimacies, meshing their lives at every moment of the day.

  The back door slammed, and Steve called, “Where are you?” His rough voice was even raspier than usual from breathing the cold air.

  “Exploring,” she replied, leaving the bathroom and crossing to the bedroom door. “Any objections if I take the front bedroom? It has the best view.”

  A fire had already been laid in the fireplace. He bent down and struck a match on the hearth, then held it to the paper and kindling under the logs, not answering until he’d straightened. “Let me look at them.”

  Vaguely surprised, Jay stepped aside and let him enter. He examined the location of the windows and their locks, opened the closet and looked at it, then stepped into the adjoining bath.

  “It’s a connecting bath,” she pointed out.

  He grunted and opened the door into the second bedroom. The windows in both rooms were on the side walls, but because the rear of the cabin was closer to the ground than the front was, the windows in the second bedroom were more accessible from the outside. “All right,” he said, checking the locks on his windows, too. “But I want it understood that if you hear anything at all during the night, you wake me. Okay?”

  “Yes,” she said, her throat constricting. All this was second nature to him. He must think there was some danger, too, despite all the precautions Frank had taken. She had wanted to think they were safe here, but perhaps they weren’t. The best thing she could do was not argue with him.

  He glanced at her, and his rough face softened a bit. “Sorry. I guess I’m overreacting to a strange situation. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Because the tension didn’t fade from her eyes, he walked over to her, cupped her face in his hands, then kissed her. Her wonderfully full, lush, exotic mouth opened for him and his tongue teased at hers. Jay put her hands on his shoulders and luxuriated in the heat of his body against her. The cabin wasn’t icy, but it was far from warm.

  He held her against him for a moment, then reluctantly let her go. “Let’s see what this place has in the way of grub. If I don’t eat soon, I’m going to fall down.” He wasn’t exaggerating, she realized. She could feel a faint tremor in his muscles, a sign of the enormous strain he’d put on his body that day.

  Casually she put her arm around his waist as they walked back to the living room. “I’ve already checked the food. We can have almost anything our hearts desire, as long as our hearts desire plain cuisine. If you want lobster or truffles, you’re out of luck.”

  “I’d settle for a can of soup,” he said tiredly, and groaned as he sank down into one of the comfortable chairs. He stretched his legs out, absently rubbing his thighs.

  “We can do better than that,” Frank said as he brought in an armload of wood, having caught Steve’s last comment. He stacked the wood on the hearth and dusted his hands. “I think. I’m not much of a cook.” He looked hopefully at Jay, and she laughed.

  “I’ll see what I can do. I’m a real whiz with microwave dinners, but I didn’t see a microwave oven, so I’m a little lost.”

  She was too tired to do much, but it didn’t take a lot of effort to open two large cans of beef stew and heat them, or to brown buttered rolls in the gas oven. They were almost silent as they ate, and after Frank had helped her clean up the few dishes, they all took turns in the shower. By eight o’clock they were asleep, Jay and Steve in their respective bedrooms and Frank rolled in a blanket on the couch.

  They rose early the next morning, and after a hearty breakfast Frank and Steve walked around in the snow. The gas stove and hot-water heater operated on butane gas, and the large tank had been filled; it shouldn’t need refilling until spring. The fuel tank for the generator would need replenishing, but all Steve had to do was contact Frank by computer, and fuel would be brought in by helicopter. They didn’t want a delivery to the cabin by any commercial business or utility, and, at any rate, the cabin was too difficult for an ordinary fuel truck to reach. It was a complicated setup, but it was meant to be an ultrasafe lodging, unlisted in any files. All in all, the place was stocked for a long-term stay, though Frank couldn’t help wishing Steve would recover his memory soon and put an end to all this, or that Piggot would be caught.

  “The nearest town is Black Bull, population one hundred thirty-three,” Frank said. “Go down to the dirt road and turn right, and you’ll eventually get there. It has a general store for basic food and supplies. If you want anything fancier, you’ll have to find a larger town, but keep a low profile. You should have enough cash to last a couple of months, but let me know if you need more.”

  Steve looked out over the white meadow. The air was so clear, the early-morning sun so bright on the spotless snow, that it hurt his eyes. The cold burned his lungs. The land was so damned big and empty that it gave him an eerie feeling, but at the same time he was almost content. He was impatient for Frank to leave so he would finally be alone, completely alone, with Jay.

  “You’re safe here,” Frank added. “The Man uses it sometimes.” He glanced up at the cabin. “I wouldn’t have brought Jay here if it wasn’t safe. She’s a civilian, so take good care of her, pal.”

  A tingle, a heightened awareness, had seized Steve when Frank mentioned the Man. It wasn’t a sense of danger but a sort of excitement. The memory was there, but blocked from his consciousness by the lingering effects of the explosion. The Man was another piece of the puzzle.

  He shook Frank’s hand, and their eyes met in the comradeship of men who have been in danger together. “You probably won’t see me again until this is over, but I’ll be in touch,” Frank said. “I’d better get moving. It’s supposed to start snowing again this afternoon.”

  They went inside and Frank got his gear, then told Jay goodbye. She hugged him, her eyes suspiciously bright. Frank had been her rock for two months, and she would miss him. He had also been a buffer between her and Steve; when he left, there would be only the two of them.

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