Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It was drizzling when Cici found Asher outside, shoving their shopping bags under the seat. She handed him her purse, which barely fit.
When they had been at the sporting goods store, she’d bought a thin travel pouch, the kind designed to hide a passport and cash.
She’d transferred The Crimson Duchess and the rest of Grace Ballentine’s jewels to it, then strapped the pouch around her waist. She liked knowing the jewels were hidden on her body.
Even if she got separated from her things, as had happened with her suitcase, she’d be able to protect Forbes’s property.
It was probably overkill, but it made her feel better. It made her believe she was doing something besides just…not getting murdered. The jewelry was her responsibility, and she would do her best to protect it.
She’d explained all of that to Asher before they’d left the restaurant. She’d expected him to ask—demand—that she hand over the pouch for him to carry, but he didn’t.
“Good idea.” He must’ve seen her surprise, because he’d added, “If I do my job and keep you safe, then the necklace will be safe too. If I fail, then who cares about the necklace?”
She cared, but she didn’t hate that he placed her value above that of a priceless treasure.
Asher handed her a poncho. “As long as I can see, we’ll press on. God willing, we’ll make it to Shadow Cove in the next few hours.”
She slid on the yellow plastic covering and secured her helmet over the hood, then climbed onto the motorcycle behind him. He’d wiped the seat, though with everything glistening with rainwater, she figured getting wet was inevitable.
It was late afternoon by the time they hit the road again.
Cici stayed mostly dry, thanks to the poncho—and the fact that she was blocked from the worst of the weather by Asher’s body.
But her feet got soaked, as did the lower part of her jeans.
She was cold and damp and miserable. She couldn’t imagine how much worse it was for Asher.
This glorified dirt bike didn’t even have a windshield.
She watched the world pass by, a blur of green and brown. As they passed into Maine, it seemed like they left civilization behind. The narrow two-lane road was hardly interrupted by towns or stop lights or stores.
They were in the middle of nowhere when lightning cracked overhead.
Cici felt more than heard Asher’s frustrated exclamation. He slowed and pulled off the road, down a rain gully and into the forest, where he cut the engine.
“What are we doing?” She had to shout to be heard over the rain.
“Trying not to die. Hop off.”
She did, then removed her helmet. At least the foliage overhead blocked some of the rain, though it was coming down harder than she’d realized, plopping against her poncho, soaking the motorcycle seat.
Asher followed suit, yanking his own helmet off. He was mostly hidden behind the yellow plastic poncho, only his face and the lower parts of his legs showing.
Somehow, he made even that look good.
“I guess this is hard to drive in.” Sort of a lame observation on her part.
“You guess?”
She decided to ignore his sarcasm. “What do we do? Wait it out?”
Sighing, he pulled out one of the burners and powered it up. It reminded her…
“We need to call Alyssa.”
“And Bartlett, but let’s wait until we’re somewhere a little less drenched.” He returned his focus to his phone, checking the weather app.
Since she didn’t think he’d appreciate her looking over his shoulder, she watched his expression. His annoyance didn’t fade. If anything, the little furrow between his eyebrows grew deeper.
“I take it the news isn’t good?”
“Thunderstorms and heavy rain for a couple more hours. In fact, according to the radar, what you said earlier is true. The heavy stuff hasn’t even started.”
She hated the thought of riding in this terrible weather all the way to Shadow Cove, but they were so close.
She’d be safe when they got to her parents’ house. She could turn over The Crimson Duchess, knowing she’d done something heroic and admirable, something her family could be proud of.
And Asher could drop her off and be on his way.
As eager as she was to be finished with this adventure, the thought of never seeing him again brought a twinge of sadness.
Maybe more than a twinge.
He was looking at something on his phone, but he’d shifted so she couldn’t tell what.
Finally, he settled his helmet back on his head. “Let’s go.”
“We’re riding through it?”
As if to offer its opinion, thunder rumbled.
Asher looked toward the sound, then shook his head. “I can hardly see. The point is to keep you safe, not get us both killed.”
“So where are we going?”
His lips twitched at the corners. “Camping.”
Camping? Cici liked the outdoors as much as the next girl—as long as the next girl hated camping.
But Asher always had a reason for the things he did. He’d gotten them this far, anyway.
The rain intensified until it felt like a living enemy, a relentless beast, clawing at Cici’s poncho as Asher guided the motorcycle down a muddy road.
She directed, using the map he’d pulled up on the burner phone, attempting to protect it from moisture with her body.
Even though the screen showed her they were going the right direction, she couldn’t imagine anything at the end of this lonely dirt path.
The storm swallowed the last of the late afternoon light, dark until lightning split the sky. Thunder rumbled so close it vibrated through her chest.
“The campground is two hundred feet ahead on the right,” she shouted.
Asher’s head bobbed, and he slowed long before the turnoff, then veered left, off the path, steering between trees through the woods, aiming for who knew what.
She didn’t bother to ask. He wouldn’t explain anyway, certainly not loudly enough for her to hear above the cacophony.
A lone cabin materialized ahead, its wooden frame drenched. It looked deserted—no cars in the driveway, no lights shining through the windows.
He got close and cut the engine, and she dismounted.
After he did, he grabbed his duffel bag, scanning the campground.
The outlines of a few cabins were barely visible through the trees, but she saw no lights, no indication anybody was staying here, certainly not close by.
“Come on.” His voice was low, the words sneaking in beneath the storm.
She followed him to the squat, weathered structure, thankful for the porch roof that protected them from the rain.
He dropped his backpack on a bench and looked through it, coming out with something too small for her to see.
“What’s the plan here?”
She didn’t know why she bothered to ask. Asher’s plan was obvious when he crouched by the door and worked tiny metal tools into the lock. A moment later, the door creaked open. He stood and stepped aside. “After you.”
“Breaking and entering?”
His eyebrows quirked. “Better than grand theft auto.”
He wasn’t wrong about that. She took off her helmet and the poncho, then left them on the bench just outside the door so she wouldn’t drip all over the floor. After toeing off her shoes, she stepped into the tiny room. Tiny, but mercifully dry.
She stood in the dark space, watching the door until, a few minutes later, Asher joined her, having shed his helmet, poncho, and shoes. He dropped her purse and his backpack on the floor just inside the door.
The cabin smelled of damp wood and mildew, a faint mustiness that clung to the air. It was barely bigger than a walk-in closet. The bed took up most of the space. An old bureau stood against one wall, and a single wooden chair rested beside it.
No heat, no lights, but a small gas fireplace was tucked into the corner.
She nodded to it. “You mind if I fire that up?”
“Go for it.” He was digging through his bag again. “If anything, the bike will be the thing that gives us away, though I did hide it in the woods.”
She twisted the valve, and a flame sputtered to life, casting a golden glow across the room. It wasn’t much, but it pushed back the chill. She held her hands toward the fireplace to warm them.
“Any reason why we couldn’t have paid for this cabin?” she asked.
He pulled his laptop from his duffel bag. “This seemed simpler. They probably don’t take cash, and I didn’t want to give a credit card. This way, we stay off the grid.”
“Makes sense.” But somebody owned this cabin, and they had a right to be paid for its use. On the other hand, Asher’s caution was the reason they were still alive. “We’ll leave some cash on the bed.”
She checked the travel pouch strapped around her waist, the weight of Grace Ballentine’s jewels a quiet reassurance.
Asher tapped on a burner phone. “We need to call that Philly detective.”
They’d planned to do that this morning. The memory of their kiss flooded back—his lips on hers, urgent and eager, the way his passion had turned to anger in a heartbeat. They’d been too rattled to think straight after that, and that distraction had cost them hours.
“Is there cell service,” Cici asked.
“Yup.” He wiggled the phone, urging her to take it. “Let’s start with the detective and get that over with.”
“Me?” Her stomach twisted. “Why me? They think I’m a murderer. Maybe you—”
“That’s why you should make the call. You need to show them that you have nothing to hide.”
Reluctantly, she took the phone, seeing that Asher had already tapped in the number. “What should I say?”
“Tell them everything that happened and what we’ve learned, including Wendall Gagnon’s name.”
“But not where we are.”
“Right. But do tell them that you’re returning Forbes’s necklace to him, and you plan to turn over everything else as soon as you’re in Shadow Cove.”
Cici sank to the edge of the bed, breathing a silent prayer for help, then dialed and put the phone on speaker.
“Detective Harris.” The woman’s voice was sharp and professional.
“My name is Cecilia Wright. I called Friday afternoon to report—”
“I know who you are, Ms. Wright. Thank you for reaching out.”
“I’ve been on the run since then.”