„Sounds good to me.“ Josh looked up when one of the assistants approached carrying a clipboard. „Looks like it’s time to get aboard and do a final flight check.“
He shook hands all around before walking away.
Within the hour he was airborne, with the second plane trailing.
He pressed a hand to the knot of tension at the back of his neck. Though a night at the ski lodge hadn’t been nearly enough time to recharge his batteries, it would have to do until this latest assignment was completed. Then he intended to hold Marty’s feet to the fire and take some quality time alone.
„Below me is Spirit Lake.“ Josh flipped the switch that triggered the camera mounted below the belly of the plane and watched the view on a monitor mounted just above his instruments. He’d spent the previous night on the Internet, learning as much as he could about his destination. „Native Americans named it, believing that great spirits dwelled in those depths. It’s said to be one of the coldest and deepest glacial lakes in the country. Even the most sophisticated sonar equipment hasn’t been able to locate a bottom. What makes this area so exciting is the fact that there are a thousand miles of wilderness without any of the amenities of modern civilization. You see below me no power lines. Although there are a few cabins along the shoreline, most are occupied by rugged individuals strictly in the summertime, since the only way in or out is by boat or seaplane. Winter in this isolation would be pretty brutal.“
While circling the lake he switched off the outside camera and turned on the one mounted on the instrument panel. „I’ll be taking my seaplane down in just a few minutes, and you, my viewing audience, will be going with me for the ride. I’m looking forward to taking you along on my journey through this forest. I’m told it’s so primitive, I might be able to make the entire trek without seeing another human being.“
Out of the corner of his eye he caught a flash of shimmering light and turned his head, assuming it was sunlight bouncing off the water far below. Instead he was stunned to see a woman dressed all in white, just settling into the copilot seat beside him.
He had a quick impression of fiery hair and intense blue eyes as he let loose with a string of curses. A stowaway? Some stalker hoping to make a name for herself? Hadn’t security checked out this plane before he boarded?
His tone was pure ice. „All right. Who are you and what’s your game?“
Her voice, soft, breathy, was little more than a whisper. „Don’t worry, Josh, I won’t let anything bad happen to you.“
„You won’t let…?“ He swore as turned to the camera. „Brady, as you can see on your monitor, there’s a stowaway here in my plane. A lunatic female. When you follow me down, I’ll leave it up to you to deal with this nutcase.“
Josh’s head snapped toward the woman. „Lady, when my companions get through with you, you’ll wish you’d never been…“
There was a series of beeps before a siren started blaring throughout the cabin. The instruments went crazy, as did the plane, which began spinning wildly out of control.
„Mayday. Mayday.“ Josh automatically called out the words while he struggled to maintain control of his craft.
The seaplane continued spinning, and as Josh fought to remain focused, he realized that they were too far from shore for a soft landing. Instead, they were about to crash into the forest.
He turned to the woman beside him. „Brace yourself. Make sure your seat belt is secure, and keep your head down.“
He saw no fear in her eyes. In fact, the word that came to mind was serene, but he was too busy fighting the controls to risk looking at her again.
Since Brady and his crew were right behind, Josh had no doubt they were witnessing his trouble. They could be down behind him within minutes, ready to help. All he had to do was survive the crash.
Adrenaline pumping, he braced himself for impact. Was this how his father had felt when his plane crashed?
His father.
He reached into his pocket and withdrew the tattered gloves, drawing them on. As always, the mere touch of them against his skin brought a sense of calm.
His passenger reached over and took hold of his gloved hand. Along with the sense of peace, he felt a wave of compassion for this stranger. However foolish she might have been to hide aboard his plane, she didn’t deserve this fate.
Too late for recriminations, he realized. Whatever would happen now was meant to happen.
That was his last conscious thought as his plane slammed to the ground and burst into a ball of fire.
Two
Grace Marin stowed her gear on the scarred wooden table in a corner of the cabin before straightening to take a look around. Rustic was too kind a description. This cabin was downright primitive. Log walls, stone fireplace soaring to a loft above, which presumably would offer a place to bunk. The small galley kitchen didn’t even have a sink, which meant no running water.
With a shrug she snatched up her camera and made her way outside. She’d stayed in worse places. Her work as a photojournalist for the World, an international pictorial magazine, had taken her to mud huts in Africa and tarpaper shacks in South America. She’d learned to survive on a few hours of sleep a night. As for food, her coworkers accused her of having a cast-iron stomach. She could probably eat worms if they were the only food available.
Moving to the end of a long, wooden dock, she sat with her back to one of the piers, staring at the endless stretch of water, and tried to stay focused on the photos she intended to shoot. It wasn’t easy, especially since that scene with Richard was still on her mind.
He’d been so angry when he’d learned that she’d accepted this assignment, proving, he said, that her career meant more to her than he did.
He’d been right, of course. Grace had never denied it. But until the words had been spoken aloud, she’d been able to pretend otherwise. Now she needed to face some cold, hard facts about herself. She was a loner. Always had been, and probably always would be. It’s what made her so successful in her career, and such a mess when it came to relationships.
With a sigh she returned her attention to the job at hand. She’d fully anticipated spectacular autumn scenery. Aboard the small supply plane that brought her to this isolated spot, she’d been expecting to see a ring of fiery trees reflected in the waters of a clear crystal lake. What she’d found was this dull, almost muddy landscape of colorless trees, a bleak, biting wind whipping the waves into foam, and a sense of foreboding that had her glancing heavenward to check for storm clouds. There were none. The sky was a gray, blank canvas.
This assignment had initially been offered to one of her fiercest competitors, who was beginning to make a name for himself with the readers of the World. That fact hadn’t been lost on Grace, whose ambition had carried her to the top of her profession. When he’d discovered a conflict of dates, Grace had generously stepped up, even though she’d just returned from an exhausting assignment in the Middle East.
„You need some time off, Grace.“ Her editor, Mark Wellington, though grateful for her offer, sat flipping through his file of photographers, looking for a replacement.
„Time off for what?“ Grace shoved aside a mountain of papers from the chair beside his desk and took a seat.
He glanced over. „Visiting family. Shopping. Going to the spa. Isn’t that what women usually do when they have some time?“
„I have no family. I’m more comfortable in torn denims and hiking boots than designer dresses and stiletto heels. And having my chipped nails filled with gel and my sunbaked skin oiled would bore me silly.“
Mark spared her a quick glance. „And then there’s Richard.“