The night bell sounded and the children began to grumble objections and pleas for a fifteen-minute extension. As they knew it would be, it was denied, and they didn’t need much persuasion to troop off to their cabins.
Each counselor, except Kathleen, who again was saved by her seniority, was responsible for checking to see that everyone was properly tucked in. Goodnights were called across the compound, and gradually the crowd dwindled down to the Harrisons, Kathleen and Erik.
“Erik, we start early,” Edna warned. “Breakfast is at seven-thirty.”
“I’ll be here. Do you think one of the ladies in the kitchen would brew me a thermos of coffee to take along tomorrow?”
“Sure,” B. J. said. “How do you like it?”
His white teeth flashed in the darkness. “Black as pitch and hotter than hell.”
B. J. slapped him on the shoulders and laughed. “I’m beginning to like you better and better, my boy. Come on, honey, I’m tired.”
Edna rose. “Kathleen, I’m assigning you to Erik, since you know more about the camp than anyone. He’ll stay with your group for the next few days and observe. Any problems with that?”
An awkward silence ensued, with only the cicadas in the trees brave enough to break it. Kathleen wasn’t thrilled with the idea of being observed by either the camera or the photographer.
“Kathleen?” Edna’s worried voice penetrated the darkness.
“No, there are no problems. I was only trying to think of… uh… of interesting things we could do.”
“I’ve given that some thought,” Erik said. “I’ve typed up a very loose script. It’s in the car. Walk back with me and I’ll give it to you tonight. We can talk about the feasibility of my ideas in the morning.”
“That’s a good idea,” B. J. said. “Now, let us old folks go to bed. Edna?”
“Okay. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Kathleen and Erik said in unison.
The couple was swallowed up by the blackness that was almost absolute. Here, on the mountaintop, there was nothing to interfere with the night. No city lights robbed the darkness of its glory or the sky of its truly infinite scope. It was blanketed with stars that one forgot were there when they were obscured by man-made light.
Kathleen was seething inside, but she refused to let her anger show and give Erik Gudjonsen the pleasure of knowing he had upset her. She walked by his side, surefooted in the darkness, and stifled a gratified giggle when she heard his muffled curse as he bumped his head on a low limb.
He was carrying both the camera and the tripod case, but she noticed that his breathing remained normal. Apparently, he was accustomed to that particular exertion. Just wait until she put some of her plans into action! That would show quick enough who was hale and hearty.
“Let me open the car door so we’ll have some light,” he said as he opened the passenger side of the Blazer. “I think that script is back here,” he said, going to the rear of the truck and lowering the tailgate. He replaced his camera in its padded case with the care of a mother toward her infant.
He straightened up and faced Kathleen. Before she realized his intention, he splayed his hands on her back and pulled her close. Ducking his head, he let his tongue lightly trace her lower lip. Then he kissed her hard and quick.
She was aghast. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“That much should be obvious.”
“I’m not amused or interested, Mr. Gudjonsen. And if this video didn’t mean so much to the camp, I’d send you packing. As it is, I’m forced to cooperate.”
“Just what I thought. Peaches!”
“Where is that damned script?”
“There isn’t one. I lied about that just to get you alone in the dark woods.”
Kathleen turned her back on him and stalked away.
Like a taunting challenge—or a sweet promise—he called to her, “I’ll see you first thing in the morning, Kathleen.”
Chapter Three
The beginning of the next day was inauspicious. Kathleen hadn’t slept well, and her cranky disposition didn’t improve when she arrived at breakfast to find Erik already there. He was smiling, teasing the children, flirting with the counselors and looking rested and exuberant.