Emma felt the chill, as if an icy hand had run a finger up her back. She lowered her voice. “What kind of message?”
This time the pause was longer. “It was a dead animal. You don’t need to know more. It was pretty sick.” He took a breath. “Emma, the man’s not just dangerous. He’s crazy. Let me fly you out of here tomorrow. It’s the only way you’ll be safe.”
“My job—”
“You don’t need the damned job. You can get another one in Sitka. And when your credit cards get here, I can pick them up and drop them off to you on the mail run.”
Emma took a moment to think. John was making sense. She might be safer in Sitka. She could find another job. But how could she leave when she’d just met David? How could she abandon the only hope, however dim, of bringing John and his son together?
“What about you?” she asked, stalling for time. “Aren’t you in danger, too?”
“If Boone meant to hurt me, he’d have done it by now. What he wants is to get to you—and going through me is one way to do it. So what will it be? Will I have to drag you onto the plane to save your life?”
Emma braced for a storm. John wasn’t going to like her answer. “If Boone figures out that I’m in Sitka, there’s no reason he can’t get on a plane or boat and follow me there. I’m safer here, where the police can keep an eye out for him, and I have friends to protect me. Besides, I promised to stay at my job for two weeks. Hopefully, by then, this will all be over. Boone will be in jail, and I’ll have enough money for an airline ticket out of here.”
He muttered a curse. “Emma, you’ve got no idea—”
“I’ll be careful,” she said. “I’ll be fine. So let’s both get some sleep.”
He muttered something she couldn’t hear. “I’ll talk to you later,” he said, and ended the call.
* * *
John had driven back to the highway to get cell phone service. After his call to Emma he radioed the dispatchers for the police and state troopers and warned them to be on the lookout for Boone. Not that it would do much good. The bear carcass had been cold. Unless Boone had stayed around to watch John’s reaction, the bastard would be long gone by now.
He could only hope that Boone would keep to the family homestead and the backwoods, leaving Emma safe in town. Boone was clever, but John also knew him to be vain. He might not want to show himself in Ketchikan with that ugly burn down his once-handsome face. But there was no way to be sure of that. Boone could be as unpredictable as the path of a lightning bolt.
Still seething with frustration, he drove back up the logging road to the cabin. He’d done his best to talk Emma into leaving. But he might as well have been talking to a brick wall.
Damn the woman! Why couldn’t he make her listen?
Maybe he should have told her what Boone had done to the bear—and it had been Boone, all right. He’d seen the fresh tracks around the cabin, and the blood where he’d gunned down that poor dumb bear and skinned it.
John had laid a plastic tarp under the carcass and cut it down from where it hung. When he got back to the cabin, he would drag it off into the trees, wrap it, and bury it. He could leave the job until morning, but he knew he wouldn’t rest until it was done.
At the cabin, he strapped on his shoulder holster to keep the pistol handy. There was always a chance that Boone would show up again, or that the scent of blood would draw more bears, or wolves, to investigate.
With the Jeep and cabin secure, he opened the garage, found a shovel and a pair of heavy rubber gloves, and went to work. The task ahead would be grueling and dirty, but it had to be done.
What would’ve happened if Emma had been here in the cabin, alone? Blocking the question from his mind, John pulled on the gloves, picked up the shovel, and went to work.
* * *
Emma had meant to sleep late, but the sounds of workers, revamping the rooms on her floor, woke her early. By the time she’d climbed out of bed, showered, dressed, and gone downstairs for the free breakfast of cereal, fruit, and toast, her shift was still more than two hours away.
John would want her to stay inside the hotel, but she’d spent too much time behind closed doors. She needed fresh air, sunshine, and room to stretch her legs. As long as she stayed in the open, with plenty of people around her, she should be perfectly safe.
Megan had given her the address of a good thrift shop and marked the location on a map of the town. Its distance from the hotel gave Emma a good excuse to try out the new bicycle.
With her money in her jeans, and her jacket, her phone, and the pistol in the backpack, she wheeled the bike out of the storage closet, through the front door, and across the street to the wide boardwalk that ran by the docks. She hadn’t ridden a bicycle since she was in college, but how hard could it be?
The bike’s smaller size wa
s a perfect fit for her. She straddled the seat, gripped the handlebars, and took off pedaling. For the first few dozen yards her progress was wobbly. But soon her muscle memory took over, and she began to enjoy herself. By the time she headed uphill toward the thrift shop, she was riding like a carefree teenager.
The charity thrift shop had just opened. After an hour of browsing, Emma bought a waterproof down parka, a quilted vest, a pair of stretch pants, two nice sweaters, some socks, and a bra. She was tempted by a pair of barely worn boots, but those could wait for another visit. For now, it was all she could do to stuff all her purchases in her pack. She wouldn’t look glamorous like Marlena in her “new” clothes. But at least when the weather changed, as it was bound to, she’d be warm.
As she left the store, she glanced at the clock above the register. It was barely ten o’clock. Her shift didn’t start for another hour. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to go exploring a little on the bike. As long as she stayed where there was plenty of traffic, she’d be fine.