13. Claire
CHAPTER 13
Claire
I shot a glare at the ringing hotel phone from my position snuggled up on the bed in my bathrobe with my paper cup full of wine and the I Love Lucy reruns playing on the TV. For half a second, I debated whether to answer. No one knew my room number, so it had to be the front desk. What they could possibly want, though, I didn’t know.
With a huff, I sat up and scooted toward the edge of the mattress so I could pick up the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Ms. Holmes. This is Kaitlyn at the front desk. I’m sorry to bother you. There’s a man here asking for you. Oscar Quartermaine?” Her voice lowered. “He says he’s a cop.”
Amusement brought a slight smile to my face. I could just picture the young woman I’d met earlier giving the handsome detective the side eye as she spoke.
“You can send him up. He’s a friend.”
“Okay. So long as there’s no trouble. We’re a quiet establishment.”
“I know. Everything is fine. Thank you.”
“Yes, ma’am. He’ll be up shortly.”
I thanked her again and hung up.
Glancing down at myself, I sighed. It was becoming a bit of a habit to be around the man in my bathrobe.
Too bad it wasn’t for fun reasons.
Standing, I shuffled into the bathroom. I could at least make sure none of my snack was stuck in my teeth. The sesame crackers and cheese were yummy, but the seeds liked to hide.
After a quick check—and finding nothing lurking—I stuffed my feet into my hot pink slippers, feeling the chill now that I was out of my cozy cocoon.
At the soft knock on the door, I tucked a flyaway wisp of hair behind my ear, then immediately rolled my eyes at myself. Whatever the reason he was here, it wasn’t because he was interested in me. Most likely, he was here to take me up on my offer to be his wilderness guide.
Grasping the lever handle, it turned smoothly in my hand.
My brain short-circuited as I got my first look at him. He’d ditched the puffy coat in favor of the heavy vest and sweater combo he bought at the outfitter’s this morning. The heathered charcoal wool sweater and dark khaki vest made him look like a lumberjack. Red tinged his cheeks from the cold, and the wind had attacked that swath of wavy dark hair on his head, leaving it mussed.
One dark eyebrow rose as his nearly black eyes took in my attire.
“I think I’m getting a sense of what your favorite outfit is.” He pointed at my feet. “And the slippers have made a comeback.”
“Yes, well, I’m not running through yards after Pebbles tonight.” I stepped back and motioned him inside.
“Where is she, anyway? I half-expected her to catch a ride on the plane here in your purse.”
I’d done that in the past. Pebbles liked exploring new places. But for this business meeting, I’d left her at home.
“She’s with my friend, Mina.” Who was no doubt spoiling her rotten with bits of bacon and sausage.
Turning, I offered him a polite smile. “What can I do for you, Detective?”
“It’s Oscar, please. Or Oz, as Ellis calls me.”
“Not Ozzie?” A spate of jealousy speared me as I thought of the faceless Piper who’d given him the nickname.
He sighed. “You caught that, huh?”
I smiled. “I did. Do you not like it?”
He lifted one shoulder. “It’s not terrible. It’s just not a name I grew up with, so it’s strange, you know?”
I tipped my head. “I get that. But you look like an Ozzie, not an Oscar.”
Lifting a hand, he ran it through his hair, further mussing the strands. I stuffed my hands into my robe pockets, so I wasn’t tempted to fix it.
“You can call me whatever you want. Piper will probably be pleased her nickname has spread beyond our friend group back home.”
“Who is this Piper? Your girlfriend?” I was fishing, and he probably knew it, but I didn’t care. Curiosity got the best of me.
“No. She’s just a friend. It’s a long story, but we met a little over a year ago on a case. I was assigned to her protection detail.”
My eyes rounded. “Protection detail?”
“Yeah. She was a witness to some drug theft that involved a Colombian cartel. It was a whole”—he circled a hand in the air—“thing.”
“Sounds like it.”
“Anyway, I’m not here to talk about my past life. Are you still willing to go with me to the Hammonds’ cabin? I’ll keep you at a safe distance. I just need you to get me close, and to be another set of eyes and ears. I spoke to the Hoonah police chief today. It’s only him and one other officer, so he can’t spare anyone. My fellow staties will take a week or more to get someone here. I thought about hiring a guide, but I wasn’t given the budget for that. The chief here gave me permission to use their equipment, though. ATVs, camping gear, that sort of thing. I know it’s a lot to ask, but?—”
I waved a hand, cutting him off. “It’s fine. I volunteered.”
“Are you sure? What about your meeting?”
“I had it earlier, and everything is squared away.”
“That was quick.”
I lifted a shoulder. “There wasn’t much to it. Just a normal closing.” Well, sort of. I didn’t normally fly to Hoonah for closings. A lot of times, my clients flew to Juneau to the bigger banks, and we signed papers there. But for Mrs. Avondale, I would always make an exception. She’d been a family friend since before I could walk, and traveling was hard on her now that she was in her eighties. I didn’t mind coming to her to close on the hunting land she transferred to her grandson.
“So, do you have everything ready so we can leave first thing?” I asked.
“I think so. Chief Bartles helped me gather everything. I’m not clueless when it comes to hiking and camping, so it was just a matter of making sure we have the right cold-weather gear.”
“Okay. Sounds good.” We might be into the first week of March now, but the nights could be brutal yet, and the weather still liked to shift on a dime. “Are you staying here?” I pointed a finger to the floor, indicating the hotel. “Or is the chief putting you up?”
“I’m staying here. He and his family fed me dinner. They offered me a room, but I’d already booked one here.” His mouth twisted and a lopsided smile formed. “I’ll know not to do that in the future. His wife berated me and told me not to be so dense the next time.”
I laughed. “That sounds like Christina.”
“You know her?”
“She’s the friend I told you about from whom I could borrow clothing.” I would give her a call this evening to make the request. We could pick it up before we set out, then.
He huffed an unsurprised laugh. “Of course it is. Is there anyone you don’t know?”
I shrugged. “Probably, but not many.” It was true. I’d grown up in this area of the state. It was vast, but it still had a small-town feel. And I was a real estate agent. I spent a lot of time in the local communities.
Smiling, he glanced away, and his gaze lit on the TV. “You like I Love Lucy too?”
I turned to look at the television. “Of course. TV Land and I have a great relationship. Especially when I travel.”
“Same. It seems like every other channel is some strange fishing show or cartoons. Or the Lifetime movies.” He sent a horrified look my way. “Please tell me you’re not one of those people who lives and breathes them.”
A soft chuckle escaped. “No. I’ll admit, I’ve watched a few, but it’s not the first thing I look for. You think they’re terrible?”
“Just too much drama for me. They’re all doom and gloom. Where’s the fun in that?”
“In the mystery.”
“I get enough of that at work.”
“True,” I acknowledged with a quick tip of my head. “Would you like to stay and watch I Love Lucy ?” The words were out before I even realized my brain wanted to make the request.
His gaze flicked to the bed directly in front of the TV. The only place to sit in the room, other than the small wooden desk chair, which wasn’t comfortable for more than a couple of minutes.
My face heated.
“Thank you for the offer, but I should probably head to my room. Catch up on a few things before heading to bed.”
“Right.” I nodded once, thankful he’d declined gracefully. Lounging with him on the bed probably wouldn’t have been the best idea for my sanity. He rattled it enough just standing there looking like a snack. A lumbersnack.
I stifled a laugh.
Perhaps I had too much wine.
Or maybe it was just me being awkward around a handsome man.
Or both , my inner voice countered.
I fought not to roll my eyes. Yes. It was both.
“Okay, so, um, can we meet in the lobby at around seven? Bartles and I looked up the cabin on the map. It’s a couple of hours outside of town by ATV. Up in the mountains.”
“That’s fine. We need to stop at his house so I can get clothes from Christina, but that won’t take long. I’ll call her this evening so she’s ready for us.”
“Sounds good.” He turned, heading for the door. “Thank you, Claire. I know this is—unusual, but this whole case is odd.”
“I agree. I’m hoping we find Warren Hammond out there. Alive and just scared.” A shiver went through me as I thought of the alternatives. Ozzie was right to want company on this trip. It could turn dangerous in a heartbeat if Warren wasn’t innocent in Marie’s death.
Nerves skated down my spine. I made a mental note to ask Christina to include a rifle in the things I borrowed.
“Me too.” He grasped the door handle, letting himself out. “I’ll see you in the morning. Thank you, again.”
“You’re welcome.” I moved closer, taking hold of the door’s edge.
He stood in the doorway, staring down at me.
My knees turned to jelly as I looked up. It wasn’t often I had to do that with men. Most were nearly at eye level thanks to my five-ten height.
There was something to be said for feeling smaller. Like he’d protect me.
Not that I needed protection.
But it was nice to know he could.
Inwardly, I rolled my eyes. Definitely too much wine.
“Get some sleep, yeah?” He lifted a hand, his fingers gravitating to the flyaway hair framing my face before they dipped and he lightly skimmed the collar of my robe.
My gaze met his, and something arced between us. A jolt of awareness electrified my limbs and made my skin tingle.
He balled his hand and lowered it, stepping back. “Goodnight, Claire.”
Taking a shaky breath, I clutched the door with both hands. “Goodnight, Ozzie.”
The amused smile twisting his lips was the last thing I saw before he turned away.
I closed the door with a soft snick, then leaned my head against it, groaning quietly. “What was that?”
Pushing away, I turned and moved deeper into the room. My eyes landed on the paper cup and half-empty wine bottle.
With determined strides, I crossed to the nightstand and lifted both, taking them into the bathroom.
“Definitely too much wine,” I muttered, dumping the rest down the drain.