After his mother died and Ty decided not to sell the house, he'd asked Carine to check on it when he was away, make sure the yard guys were mowing the lawn, let the cleaning people in, pick up packages. He'd offered to pay her, but she considered herself just being a good neighbor. She had no idea how he could afford to keep up the place-a big house with a shed, a long driveway, fifty acres. The property taxes alone had to be astronomical. Even after they became engaged, she hadn't asked for specifics, which, in a way, summed up their relationship. She hadn't taken care of business. But, she hadn't exactly been thinking straight.
Like yesterday in her apartment, she reminded herself with a groan.
She debated going for a run, then remembered collapsing against the lamppost yesterday morning. Ty would have been on her trail then and must have seen her. She didn't like it that he'd caught her at her most vulnerable, in shock, shattered by what she'd seen. But she didn't have to be professional, distance herself. It wasn't her job to catch the killer.
But a run could wait until she was more secure on her feet.
When she got out of bed, she felt steadier, less stripped raw by her experience. She headed down the hall to the shower, taking her time, washing her hair twice, scrubbing her skin with lavender-scented bath salts left over from her last stay there. She took the time to blow-dry her hair and dressed in her most comfortable pair of jeans and her softest shirt, determined to go easy on herself today in every way she could.
She brought her digital camera downstairs with her and set it on the table then she poured herself a cup of grayish coffee. Jodie Rancourt liked the instant gratification of the digital camera, but Carine had explained her preference for film. It'd be a while before she replaced her 35 mm Nikon and 300 mm zoom lens with a digital camera. But she wasn't resistant to change- she would do whatever worked, whatever got her the right picture.
The coffee was undrinkable. Ty must have made it hours ago. Carine spotted him outside at the woodpile, splitting maul in hand as he whacked a thick chunk of wood into two pieces. He looked relaxed, at home. He deserved this time off, she thought, dumping her coffee in the sink. She knew his military career had been intense during the past nine months-he didn't need to spend his leave making sure she didn't meddle in a murder investigation.
She returned to the table and decided she'd take pictures today. That would reassure everyone she was back in her right mind. She popped out the memory disk she'd used at the Rancourt house and popped in another disk with less memory. Whoever broke in to her apartment yesterday had ignored her less sexy Nikon, but her digital camera might have been too great a temptation if she hadn't brought it into Boston with her that morning.
She slipped the Rancourt disk into an inner coat pocket and headed outside with the camera. The morning was brisk and clear, the frost just beginning to melt on the grass. "You need a dog," she said, joining Ty at the woodpile. "Maybe Stump could father puppies."
He paused, eyeing her as he caught his breath, his eyes greener somehow in the morning light. "I'm never here long enough for a dog, and if I were, I wouldn't get one with any blood relation to Stump. He digs."
"All dogs dig."
"All dogs don't dig. All Gus's dogs dig."
She smiled. "Gus has never been much of a disciplinarian."
Ty lifted another log into place. He was wearing heavy work gloves, with wood chips and sawdust on his jeans and canvas shirt. She noticed the play of muscles in his forearms. "Your brother called," he said.
"Nate? What did he want?"
"He said Val Carrera called him at the crack of dawn and hung up." He glanced up at her, everything about him intense, single-minded. "What do you suppose that was all about?"
"I have no idea. Did Nate?"
"Nope. He and Antonia talked last night-apparently they decided you were in good hands. Or at least you could be in worse hands. He says Hank and Antonia are hiring Val as an assistant."
"With all her bookstore experience, I think she'd be great at just about anything." Carine didn't know Val Carrera all that well but liked her. "It must be weird for her with Eric away at school. She was so devoted to him when he was sick."
"Still is. She knew she had to pull back." Ty swung the heavy maul idly in one hand. "Nate told me to tell you hi."
"He's not happy about this situation, is he?"
"Hates it. But we all do."
Ty raised the maul, then heaved it down onto the log, splitting it in two, both pieces managing to fly in her direction. She jumped aside, and he grinned at her, shrugged without apology. If she didn't know how to get out of the way when someone was splitting wood by now, she deserved her fate. She felt an urge to grab a maul and have at a chunk of wood herself.
"Nate thinks Louis's murder had something to do with Hank, doesn't he? Newly elected senator, and the Rancourts supported him in the campaign-"
"A lot of people supported him."
"But I'm right?"
"Hank didn't know Louis Sanborn. I told Nate that."
"There, you see? That's my brother, ever one for a conspiracy theory." She moved a few steps out of the sun, which was higher in the sky than she'd expected. She hadn't looked at a clock yet, but it was more like nine, not seven. "I'd like to walk over to my cabin. Gus has supposedly been checking on it, but I think he's been preoccupied with his tropical paradise half bath. Do you want to come with me?"
"Want has nothing to do with it. I'm coming." He leaned the splitter against the shed, a mix of weathered wood and black tarpaper that, like the rest of the place, needed work. "I'll scramble you up some eggs first. Gus brought them by the other night. Apparently there's some new egg lady in town. I think he's sweet on her."
"Gus?"
Ty laughed. "Don't look so shocked."
She jumped up on the counter and watched him while he brewed fresh coffee and made eggs and toast, but he finally said she was in the way and shooed her over to the table. He brought her a steaming plate, then sat down with a mug of black coffee. "Gus has already called this morning, too. The Rancourts rolled in last night. They stopped by his shop this morning to congratulate him on the rescue of the boys from Mount Chester. He thinks they were fishing for what he knew about what happened in Boston."
The Rancourts' twenty-acre property was a rare chunk of private land in that part of the surrounding White Mountain National Forest, up an isolated hill with incredible views and just yards from a seldom-used trail, a spoke off the main Cold Ridge trail.
"Did Gary Turner come with them?" Carine asked. "He's their chief of security-"
"The one with the skin and the missing fingers?"
She nodded. "You were paying attention yesterday."
"Always. Gus didn't mention him."
Carine hid her relief. She didn't want to have to deal with the Rancourts, much less Gary Turner. "Turner encouraged me to come up here. So did Sterling. He and Jodie must have decided they liked the idea themselves. Well, I suppose it's their house. They can come and go as they please."
"You don't much care for them, do you? Why'd you take the job if you don't like them?"
She shrugged. "I don't dislike them. I'm neutral."
Ty laughed, getting to his feet. "Yeah, right. Define neutral. I'm ready to go whenever you are." He dumped out the rest of his coffee in the sink, then stared out the window a moment. "Carine-I never meant to run you out of town."
She took her dishes to the sink. "You didn't."
He shifted, eyeing her. "You know that's not true."
"It's true enough." She rinsed off her plate and put it in the dishwasher, drank the last of her coffee, aware of his gaze still on her, as if even the small things she did might betray her. "I've always lived in Cold Ridge. It's been good to expand my horizons."