A Dark and Twisting Path Page 2

  “You’ve become a naturalist,” I said, my tone accusing.

  “You will, too. Join us next time we go bird-watching. It sounds boring, but it’s so fun.”

  “Everything is fun with you,” I admitted. “Enjoy your birds, and I’ll call soon.”

  “I’m glad you’re home,” she said.

  “I am, too.”

  I walked down her driveway, waving briefly to the woman who knelt in her garden directly across the street. She was dark haired and pretty, somehow reminding me of a woman from an old movie. She waved back and returned to her petunias.

  I breathed deeply, soaking in the Blue Lake air. Despite my wonderful trip to England, despite the beautiful places I had seen, not one of the picturesque villages had replaced Blue Lake in my affection.

  Blue Lake was my life’s paradox: it represented both the worst and the best things that had ever happened to me.

  I climbed into my car and drove slowly down the flower-scented lanes, eventually speeding up on Green Glass Highway, then turning down Sabre Street and making my way toward the water. I drove up the gravel road that ascended the big bluff overlooking Blue Lake, enjoying the satisfying crunch of pebbles beneath my tires. Camilla’s place was at the top of the ridge. I left the car idling at the bottom of the driveway, appreciating the vista of Camilla’s big house, the cloudy sky above it, and the trace of Blue Lake sparkling below.

  My phone beeped; I picked it up and slid my finger over the screen. “Hello?”

  “Hey, honey.” It was my father. I had not seen him since I had come to Blue Lake in October, and in a rush I realized how much I missed him.

  “Dad! How are you? How’s Tabitha?”

  “Fine, fine.” He was moving something around, papers or files. He always kept his hands busy while he talked on the phone. “I haven’t heard about your big trip, and I figured I’d just give you a call.”

  “Oh, Dad, I’m so sorry. We actually just got back, but I was going to call you, I swear!”

  “I know, I know. I just got impatient.”

  “Dad. Now that things have calmed down here a bit—why don’t you and Tabitha come out? There’s a lovely guesthouse in town where you could stay, and you can have all your meals with Camilla and me. The weather is getting nice, and I can show you all my favorite places. Now we know that Sam isn’t a murderer and that Victoria West is alive—you can meet him! Oh, I’m getting excited about this now! What do you say?”

  “I would love to. But I don’t want to get Tabitha’s hopes up unless you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure! I miss you. Let me just clear it with Camilla, and then I’ll call you tonight with some calendar options.”

  “That sounds great, honey. Maybe Tab and I will be there in time for your birthday. We’d love to celebrate it with you.”

  “Me, too,” I said. My eyes had grown slightly moist, and I wiped at them with one hand. I promised my father again that I would contact him that night, and I ended the call, feeling energized.

  I drove up the rest of the driveway and parked against Camilla’s long front porch. I got out and darted up the stairs, inhaling the scent of a nearby lilac bush.

  Inside I was greeted by Camilla’s German shepherds, Heathcliff and Rochester. I bent down to pat their heads. “Hey! You know, I really missed you guys. Did you miss me?”

  They snuffled against me, enjoying my caresses, and I laughed. Rustling sounds came from Camilla’s study, and I called, “Are you still unpacking, tour buddy?”

  Adam Rayburn appeared in the doorway. His glasses were missing; Camilla told me that he had bought contact lenses. He looked handsome, like an aging James Bond. “Hello, Lena.”

  “Oh—hi, Adam. Are you helping Camilla unpack?”

  He frowned slightly. “I was. She told me she wanted to take a walk. Without me.”

  I straightened, walked over, and patted his arm. “Were you hovering, Adam?”

  “She says so. I just wanted to be sure she wasn’t overtiring herself. She looked rather frail when you returned from England.”

  Camilla didn’t look frail; we had eaten heartily on our trip, and we had both gained a few pounds in the process. “Adam, she’s fine.”

  He sighed. “I know. I can’t help it. I tend to be—smothery—when I care about someone.”

  “It’s very sweet. But you have to pull back a little. You know that Camilla is independent.”

  “God, yes,” he said, but he was smiling a little now. We moved into Camilla’s office, where Adam had clearly been helping to sort through some of her suitcases. He sat on the edge of her desk and sighed. “I’ve loved her for a very long time. Longer than she knows. And she only loved me back for a very short time and then she left.”

  I sat down, too, in my favorite purple chair. “She had to go on the tour, Adam. It’s part of her job.”

  “I know that. It just felt—sad.”

  “I know exactly what you mean. I don’t even know where my boyfriend is right now.”

  Adam gave me a surprisingly charming smile. “Perhaps you and I should start a Lonely Hearts club.”

  “Perhaps we should,” I said, laughing.

  “Perhaps you should what?” asked Camilla, walking in. She wore a pair of blue jeans and a purple sweater, along with some sturdy brown walking shoes. She clutched a small bouquet of wildflowers.

  “Adam and I are going to keep each other company when our love interests wander off,” I said lightly.

  Camilla pursed her lips and sent a look to Adam, who lifted his chin. “Adam Rayburn, you are quite impossible,” she said. Her voice was indulgent rather than angry.

  “You’ve always liked a challenge,” Adam said.

  Camilla sniffed, then laughed. “Lena, my dear, Adam has asked that I not unpack any more today, since he fears it will drain me of precious energy.”

  “It is pretty exhausting. I gave up, too, and spent the morning flopped on Allison’s couch.”

  “Did you have lunch?”

  “Yes. She fed me pizza. I’m full as can be.”

  “Good, good. I gave Rhonda the day off, and Adam is taking me out for a late lunch. Will you be fine on your own?”

  “Of course.”

  I watched, admiring, as Camilla left the room to put her flowers in water, then returned, affectionately patted Adam’s cheek, and picked up her small purse from a nearby chair.

  “I’m ready, dear,” she said to Adam, who beamed at her. Despite his talk of her frailty, I thought Camilla had never looked better. Her silver hair had been recently cut into a shorter, bouncier style; her face had grown slightly fuller since our trip, making her look years younger; and there was an energetic spring in her step that suggested she was happy.

  I smiled. “You two have fun. I will either unpack or lie on my bed with Lestrade, who has not yet fully forgiven me.”

  Camilla smiled. “I happen to know he was spoiled by Rhonda. Who wouldn’t want to have a chef as a babysitter? I’m thinking she gave him some special meals, despite his nonhuman status.”

  “True,” I said. “I’m sure he’ll get over it soon.”

  Adam slid an arm around Camilla’s waist. “I have reservations,” he said.

  “About feeding cats?” I joked.

  Camilla giggled and Adam smirked, and then he led her to the door. She turned to say, “This is a rest day, Lena. We’ll talk about getting back to work tomorrow, all right?”

  “Yes, that’s great.”

  I waved and they went off into the spring day.

  I sighed and spun around where I stood, feeling happy. It had never ceased to amaze me that I lived in Camilla Graham’s house—Camilla Graham! She, who had been my idol for more than ten years before we met. Since my arrival just about all of my dreams had come true: I had published a book with Camilla, I had traveled with her on a bo
ok tour, and I had met a man and fallen in love with him.

  I strolled to Camilla’s desk, where the dogs lounged and snored against the wooden legs and where the newspaper sat on her blotter. She had already read the whole thing, I was sure, while she had her early-morning coffee. The top headline was something about the world financial market, but under the fold the headline read “Lazos Continues to Evade Authorities.” The world couldn’t get enough of the story of Victoria West, her errant lover, and her missing baby. Poor little Athena, I thought. I had seen the child only once, just before she was abducted. She was a beautiful baby, with dark eyes and dark hair, and she had looked right at me, studying me with her child’s gaze before she was whisked away by Victoria’s driver—a man that she had thought she could trust. I had been standing nearby—spying, really—and I had not realized that I was watching a kidnapping.

  I dreamed about her sometimes, the lost Athena, and in every dream I was at fault, failing to understand that she needed my help, failing to protect her from the man who led her away.

  They were all looking for her now—international agencies along with American authorities. Surely it would only be a matter of time before they found Nikon Lazos? And yet the man had eluded them for a year with the missing Victoria, and we had found him only by sheer accident. This is what worried me—that he had the money and resources to stay underground indefinitely, keeping Victoria’s daughter from her as a punishment for what he probably saw as her betrayal.

  No matter how I felt about Victoria’s relationship with Sam, my heart always went out to her when I thought of her sweet daughter.

  With a sigh I left the study and climbed the stairs to enter my own beloved room—a sunny, blue and white space, brightened now by a large glass bowl of white roses, which Rhonda had put in my bedroom and Camilla’s to welcome us home.

  I touched the roses, still firm and lovely, and inhaled their fragrance while I studied Lestrade, who glared at me from the bed. I had interrupted his bath, and now half of the fur on his head was matted down, making him look comical. “Are you still mad at me?” I asked him. We had never been separated for more than a day since I’d gotten him as a kitten, and ever since I’d returned from England he had been distant in that special way that cats have perfected.

  He turned his back on me and continued his bath.

  I sat on the bed and touched the tip of his tail. “I missed you, Lestrade. Every time I saw a little cat wandering down a lane in some pretty English village, I thought of my own little buddy in Blue Lake.”

  His tail twitched under my hand.

  “I thought of how funny he was, and how beautiful, and how much I loved him.”

  He flicked his tail away from me, but some sputtering purrs escaped him. I took this as encouragement and scratched his fuzzy ears. “You know you’re my special boy,” I said.

  The purring grew louder, but he continued to face away from me, giving me a view of what Allison called “your gross cat’s big butt.”

  “Lestrade, my sweet pea, you can’t stay mad at me. Who will keep me company at night?”

  My cat licked a paw with delicate attention, then turned to honor me with a glimpse of his face, which was slightly less angry now. It held, in fact, some benevolence—a king granting amnesty.

  “You’re my little bundle of fur,” I said, pouncing on him and kissing his ears while my hand mussed the soft fuzz of his belly.

  Lestrade turned on the full purr machine and let me assault him with love and apology.

  I lay back on my pillows and Lestrade walked up to join me. “Want to take a nap with me?” I asked him.

  He did. As he snuggled against me, I grabbed my phone from a side table and typed a text message to Sam. Where are you? So lonely.

  I set the phone down, only to have it beep almost instantly. Back in the morning. No luck on Athena clue. Already kissing you in my dreams.

  That was an acceptable response, and, despite Sam’s wild-goose chase, I was smiling as I drifted off to sleep, though it wasn’t Sam’s eyes I saw behind my closed lids, but the dark and watchful eyes of Athena Lazos, trusting me to know she was in danger.

  2

  In ancient days, the Oracle at Delphi told people their fates, and Delia wondered, as she contemplated the ruined temple, if she would have been brave enough to find out her own.

  —From Death at Delphi

  I WAS SITTING on Camilla’s front porch the next morning, enjoying the warmth of the first May sun. Camilla was on the phone with one of her relatives in England; she had told me we could start our work around noon.

  May. I sipped my tea and contemplated the fact that I had now lived in Blue Lake for nearly seven months. It was a place I never would have visited on my own, much less have chosen as a residence. Now, though, it was home. I leaned against a banister of the porch and stretched out my legs on the top step, a vantage point from which I could see the road leading partway down the bluff. I couldn’t see Sam’s house, but I hoped I might see Sam himself walking up the rocky path. His text had said he’d be back sometime this morning, and I was getting restless.

  The sound of a car crunching over the gravel made me sit up, alert. Camilla’s dogs appeared at the screen door, their ears up straight. “Who is it, guys?” I asked them.

  A moment later a Blue Lake police car pulled up to the driveway and parked next to Camilla’s—an honorary spot for Doug Heller, our friend and protector.

  Doug emerged from the driver’s side, looking handsome as always, his blond hair mussed slightly by the wind. He wore a blue oxford shirt that said “Blue Lake PD” on the pocket and a pair of khaki pants. Another man, wearing a similar getup, got out on the passenger side. He looked somehow familiar to me, but as far as I knew I had never seen him before.

  Doug came around the car and approached the steps. “Hey, Lena,” he said.

  “Hey, Doug. You want to come in for some breakfast?”

  “No, I’m on duty. I wanted to introduce you to Clifford Blake. He’s joined us from Saint Louis, and he’s going to be my partner.”

  “Your partner?” I said, automatically shaking the hand that Clifford Blake offered me. He was tall and thin with a stubbly face and brown hair going gray at the temples. I couldn’t picture Doug with a partner; Doug worked alone. Doug was like a superhero in Blue Lake. Then again, I had rarely seen Doug off duty. Maybe he needed some relief. “Nice to meet you,” I said.

  Clifford Blake offered me a charming smile. “You, too. I didn’t know the girls were so pretty in this town.”

  Doug jabbed him in the ribs. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, Cliff. This is the one and only Lena London.”

  Blake’s smile disappeared as he studied my face. “I’ve heard about you, Lena. I followed the Sam West case very carefully, and Doug told me how instrumental you were in sparing him from prison.”

  I wasn’t sure what I thought of Clifford Blake. Something about him had my inner voice murmuring, but not in a way that I could hear. “So is that why you came to work in this little town?”

  Doug sent me a surprised look. “We’re lucky to get Cliff; he’s a decorated officer with an impeccable record. He happens to have family in Indiana, so it was a good time for him to make a move.”

  Cliff nodded. “Sometimes obligation dictates geography.”

  “I would invite you in to meet Camilla, but she’s on the phone with her English relatives right now,” I said.

  Doug shook his head. “We’ve got things to do, but I just wanted you to meet Cliff. Next time you call it just might be him showing up instead of me. Allows us to be in lots of places at once.”

  I nodded, then changed the subject. “Doug, I wanted to tell you that my dad is coming to town. Camilla and I worked it out last night, and he’ll be here in a couple of days. I want you to meet him.”

  “Sure,” Doug said, shading his eyes from
the sun. “Be happy to.”

  “And also he’s going to be throwing me a birthday party. You’re invited, of course.” And then, because Clifford Blake was standing right there, I said, “You, too, Cliff.”

  “Why, thanks,” Cliff said with his easy smile. “How nice to have a social invitation on my first day in town. I’m thinking if Doug’s at the party, I’ll probably be on duty, but I appreciate the thought.”

  The radio in Doug’s car squawked. Doug pointed. “Can you check that out, Cliff?”

  Cliff nodded and jogged back to the car, climbing in to hear the message.

  Doug moved closer to me and lowered his voice. “Two things: one, there’s a rumor going around that there are still reporters in town, pretending to be something else. Presumably they’re still looking for anything they can get on Sam West, Victoria West, Nikon Lazos, whatever. So don’t confide in any strangers.”

  “Got it.”

  “Also, can you do me a favor? I know you just got back and everything, and I want to hear all about the trip. But—I wonder if you could talk to Belinda for me?”

  “Belinda? Why?”

  He shook his head, looking bemused. “I don’t know. You thought there was something there, right? With me and her.”

  “Of course. You’re dating, aren’t you?”

  He sighed and kicked at the bottom stair. “It feels like history is repeating itself, you know? I thought things were heating up with you and me, and you ended up with Sam. Then I thought things were going well with Belinda, and suddenly they aren’t. I don’t know if I said something, or did something, or she just lost interest, you know?”

  I stared at Doug Heller’s handsome face and found it hard to believe that Belinda had lost interest. She had been downright smitten with Doug. “Listen, this is none of my business . . .”