Dawn in Eclipse Bay (10 page)

This time she was totally ignored.

“I'd estimate their security level as Class Three at the moment,” Arizona said. “Fences have gone up around the construction perimeter.”

“Perfectly normal,” Lillian said. “The last thing the institute would want is a lawsuit filed by someone who happened to trip and fall over a pile of pipes.”

“Guards on the premises?” Gabe asked.

“Yep. Disguised as low-profile security, though,” Arizona said. “Didn't see any weapons. Probably knew that would attract too much attention in a small town like this where there's not much of a crime problem. Expect they'll wait until after the big move before they go to Class Two status and arm the guards.”

Lillian clutched her untouched croissant. “What are you talking about? What big move?”

“We all know what's happening up there,” Arizona said. “Problem is, we've got no hard evidence yet. I'm stepping up my surveillance work, though. I'll try to get us some pictures that we can take to the media.”

“You're a true hero, Arizona.” Photon looked at her with unconcealed admiration. “If it hadn't been for you, we wouldn't have had a clue. Who knows how long Project Transfer would have gone undetected?”

Lillian was amazed to see Arizona turn pink.

“Just doin' my duty.”

“It's people like you who keep this country safe for democracy,” Gabe said.

“Excuse me.” Lillian held up her hand. “As the sole representative of the naïve, innocent dupes of Eclipse Bay, I would like to ask a question.”

“Go right ahead,” Arizona said.

“What, precisely, do you think is going on up at the institute, A.Z.? What is this Project Transfer you mentioned?”

Arizona made a
tut-tut
sound.

The Heralds shook their heads sadly at Lillian's failure to grasp the obvious.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Gabe hide a quick grin behind his coffee mug.

“Thought it was as plain as the white lines out on the highway,” Arizona said. “The secret gov'mint agency in charge of Roswell and the Area 51 facility has decided it's attracting too much attention. The Internet was what did 'em in, I reckon. After those satellite images of the old test site went online, they knew they had a real problem. That's probably when they started making plans.”

Gabe nodded knowingly. “Had a feeling those mysterious fires in New Mexico a while back weren't accidental.”

“You got that right,” Arizona said. “No such thing as an accident where this bunch is concerned.”

“Plans to do
what
?” Lillian demanded.

Arizona rocked back and forth in her boots and looked grim. “Pretty clear they're gonna transfer the bodies of those extraterrestrials they've got in deep freeze in Area 51 along with the remains of their spaceship and all that alien technology right here to Eclipse Bay.”

Gabe got into the passenger side of Lillian's car and closed the door. “Makes sense when you think about it.”

“What makes sense?” Lillian turned the key in the ignition and checked the rearview mirror.

“Transferring those frozen aliens and their UFO equipment here. Who'd ever think to look for them in Eclipse Bay?”

“I
knew
it, you were enjoying yourself back there, weren't you? You were actually encouraging A.Z. in her idiotic conspiracy theories.”

“Not like anything I said would have
discouraged
her. Everyone knows she lives in her own parallel universe.”

“Doesn't it worry you that she's glommed onto the Heralds?” Lillian snapped the car's gearshift into reverse and backed out of the parking space. “It was one thing when she was the lone conspiracy theorist in town. But now she's got a bunch of enthusiastic assistants.”

“You're right,” Gabe intoned darkly. “I don't like the sound of this.”

“Oh, for pity's sake.” She turned the wheel and drove out of the parking lot. “You're determined to make a joke out of it, aren't you?”

“Look at it from my point of view.”

“What is that?”

“Pondering the possibility that some secret gov'mint agency is getting ready to transfer dead space aliens and their technology to Eclipse Bay makes an interesting change.”

“Change from what?”

“From thinking about that sixth date you owe me.”

“Hmm.” She concentrated on the curving sweep of Bayview Drive. “Hadn't thought of that. Dare I hope that you might sign up with A.Z.'s happy little band of conspiracy buffs and forget about trying to make me fulfill the terms of that contract you signed with Private Arrangements?”

“Well, no. Thing is, I never forget about getting what I paid for.”

She gripped the wheel. “Gabe, I told you, I'd refund your money.”

“It's not the money.”

“Hah. With you, it's the money. You've made that very clear from the start. I've never known anyone as paranoid about being married for his money as you are.”

“I am not paranoid.”

“The heck you aren't. On this particular subject, you're as bad as A.Z. is when it comes to secret government conspiracies.”

He settled deeper into the seat and looked out over the gray waters of the bay.

“I'm not that bad,” he said.

The dry, sardonic amusement that had infused his voice a moment ago was gone now. She shot him a quick glance, trying to read the shift in his mood. But his head was turned away from her. She could discern nothing from the hard angles of his profile.

She turned off the main road a short time later and went down the narrow, rutted lane that led to the old Buckley place. The weathered cottage was hunkered down on a windswept bluff overlooking a rocky stretch of beach. It looked as if it had not been lived in for a long time. The trees grew right up to the edge of the tiny yard. The blinds in the windows were yellowed with age. The porch listed a little to the right. The whole structure was badly in need of a coat of paint.

The only sign of life was Gabe's gleaming Jaguar parked in the drive.

She brought her compact to a halt in front of the sagging porch.

“Thanks for the lift into town.” Gabe stirred and unfastened his seat belt.

“You're welcome.”

He opened the car door and paused, gazing straight ahead through the windshield.

“You really think I'm a full-blown paranoid?” he asked quietly.

This was not good. No doubt about it, Gabe was sinking deeper into a very strange mood.

“Let's just say I think you're a little overly concerned about the issue of being married for your money,” she said gently.

“Overly concerned.”

“That's how I would characterize it, yes.”

“And you're not.”

“Not what?”

“Paranoid. About being married because of your connection to Harte Investments.”

She took a deep breath. “I won't say that I don't think about the possibility once in a while. As I told you, I have dated a few men who gave me some cause for concern. But I try to employ my common sense in the matter. I don't obsess on the idea that every man I meet is only interested in me because of my family's company.”

“Can't help noticing that you still haven't married, though.”

She felt her jaw tense. “The fact that I'm still single has nothing to do with being secretly paranoid about being married for my inheritance.”

“So, why are you still single?”

She frowned. “Why do you care?”

“Sorry. None of my business.” He pushed the door open and got out. “See you later.”

“Gabe?”

“Yeah?” He paused and leaned slightly to look at her.

“Are you, you know, okay?”

“Sure. I'm swell.”

“What are you going to do today?”

“Don't know. Haven't decided. Maybe take another walk on the beach. Check my e-mail. Do some research.” He paused. “What are
you
going to do?”

“Paint. That's why I came here.”

“Right.” He made to close the door.

She hesitated, trying to resist the impulse that had just struck her. She failed.

“Gabe, wait a second.”

“What now?”

This was stupid, she thought. Just because Hannah was married to Rafe, it did not follow that she herself had to assume any responsibility for members of the Madison family. Gabe was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. If she had any sense she would keep her mouth shut.

But she could not get past the feeling that something was not as it should be with Gabe. The way he had tried to amuse himself with Arizona's conspiracy theories and now this swing to another, darker mood did not seem right. He was definitely not in a good place.

Burnout was a form of depression, she reminded herself.

“What about dinner?” she asked before she could give herself any more time to think.

“What about it?”

“I'm going to drive back into town later this afternoon to do some serious grocery shopping. If you don't have any plans for tonight, I could pick up something and bring it over here. We can fix it together.”

“I'm no gourmet chef like Rafe,” he warned.

“Few people can cook as well as Rafe, but I can find my way around a kitchen. What about it? You interested? Or do you have other plans?”

“One thing I do not have is other plans,” he said. “By the way, if you're going to the grocery store, could you pick up some peanut butter?”

“I suppose so.”

“Make it chunky style. See you for dinner.”

He closed the car door with a solid-sounding
kerchunk
, went up the steps and disappeared into the lonely-looking house before she could figure out how to climb back out of the hole she had just dug for herself.

He heard the sound of a car's engine in the driveway just as the early winter twilight descended. A gut-deep sense of pleasurable anticipation rippled through him. He powered down the laptop computer, closed the lid and got to his feet.

He peered out the window, checking the weather. He could almost feel the weight of the heavy clouds moving in off the ocean. The storm would hit later tonight.

Perfect timing.

He crossed the threadbare carpet, opened the front door and went out onto the porch. The little rush of excitement faded at the sight of the vehicle coming toward him. It was a late-model Mercedes. Not Lillian's Honda.

The Mercedes halted in front of the steps. The door on the driver's side opened. An attractive, athletic-looking woman with stylishly cut honey-brown hair got out. She wore a pair of expensively tailored trousers and a pale silk shirt. Silver gleamed discreetly in her ears. A designer scarf in a subdued mauve print framed her long neck.

Marilyn Thornley hadn't changed much since she had been Marilyn Caldwell, he thought. If anything, she had become more striking and more self-confident with the years. There was an invisible aura of authority and importance about her. When she walked into a room, you knew it.

She saw him watching her from the porch and gave him a glowing smile.

He did not take the smile personally. Marilyn always glowed like this whenever they occasionally encountered each other at one of the social events they both were obliged to attend. As Rafe had reminded him, he had a lot of what politicians loved most. Money. Marilyn had been a tireless fund-raiser for Trevor Thornley for years. Now she was firing up her own campaign.

Under the circumstances, he was not real surprised to see her, he thought.

“Gabe.” She came around the front of the Mercedes with long, purposeful strides. “I heard you were in town for a while.”

She was moving more quickly now, coming up the steps, heading toward him.

Belatedly he realized her intention and took a step back. But he didn't move fast enough. She had her arms around his neck, her face tilted for a welcoming kiss before he could dodge. Reflexively, he turned his head at the last instant. Her lips grazed his jaw.

The mouth thing caught him off guard. It was the first time she'd pulled that stunt. But then, this was the first time he'd seen her since she and Thornley had announced their intention to divorce.

She released him, giving no indication that she had even noticed his small act of avoidance. Politicians had thick skins.

“You look wonderful,” she said.

“You're looking great yourself.”

She gave him an arch look. “You mean for a woman whose husband humiliated her by withdrawing from a senatorial campaign and who is in the midst of a nasty divorce?”

“You've had a busy year.”

“You can say that again. Talk about stress. Life's been a little rough lately.” She opened the front door of the house. “Come on, let's go inside. It's cold out here. Another storm's coming.”

He checked his watch. “I've got company scheduled to arrive at any minute.”

“Lillian Harte?”

Should have known,
he thought.

Marilyn gave a throaty laugh. “Don't look so surprised. It's all over town that you walked into Incandescent Body bakery with her first thing this morning.”

“It wasn't first thing.”

“How serious is it? You two sleeping together?”

The ease with which she asked such a personal question was a forcible reminder of just how personal their own relationship had once been. He found himself wanting to protect Lillian from some vague menace that he could not quite define. Or maybe it was just the residual effect of Mitchell's notion of early-childhood education kicking in. Madison men did not kiss and tell. Mitchell had drummed that basic principle of proper masculine behavior into Rafe and Gabe early in life.

Besides, he had nothing to kiss and tell about, Gabe reminded himself.

“No,” he said. “We just happened to come out here to the coast at the same time. Found ourselves at loose ends today. We both wanted some company for breakfast. No big deal.”

Marilyn winked. “Don't worry, I won't cramp your style. I just wanted to say hello to an old friend.”

She swept through the door of the cottage.

He glanced once more back along the drive. There was no sign of Lillian's car. Reluctantly he followed Marilyn into the small house.

“Good lord, couldn't you find a better rental?” Marilyn surveyed the dilapidated interior with a grimace. “Not exactly your style, is it?”

“Until Rafe and Hannah get Dreamscape open there isn't a lot of high-end rental housing available around Eclipse Bay. You know that as well as I do. It was either here or my grandfather's house.” He allowed the door to close slowly behind him. “Knew that wouldn't work so I picked this place. It's got everything I need.”

“Like what?”

“Privacy.”

“Okay, I get the point. You've got a hot date with Lillian Harte and I'm in the way.” She settled on the arm of the shabby sofa with a regal grace. “I won't stay long, I promise. I need to talk to you, Gabe.”

He did not sit down. He didn't want to encourage her. Instead, he propped one shoulder against the wall and folded his arms. “What's this all about, Marilyn?”

“Do I have to have a special reason? You and I go back a long way. We have a history.”

“History was never my best subject. I was a business major in college, remember?”

“I hear you signed up with Lillian's matchmaking agency.”

“Who told you that?”