Lethal Legacy (3 page)

“She was...” Cam's head drooped and he bit his lip.

“Was what? Don't hold out on me, Cam. I need to know everything, no matter how hard this
is for you."

He expelled a long sigh. “I saw her not too long ago with a man."

“Who was he? Did you know him?"

“No. I mean, I don't know. I never saw his face."

“Where did you see them? What were they doing?"

“On the street. I followed her one day. She'd been acting so strange. It looked as if
they were arguing.” He jumped to his feet. “Dammit, Amy, what's the point of going into
all this? Nobody's going to believe me."

“Let my father and me be the ones to worry about that. Did you ask Mai about the man you
saw her with?"

“She wouldn't tell me anything. Not his name or what they'd been talking about or what he
meant to her. Nothing. All she did was cry."

Amy started to close her notebook, then changed her mind. “Did Mai say anything to you
before she died?"

“Only two words.” Cam slumped down on the chair. “Sounded like, ‘My garden.'”

“That mean anything to you?"

His face softened. “Mai loved her topiary garden. Her father started it when she was a
child. And even when he had to labor fourteen hours a day to keep his business going, he
still found time to work on the animals he created for her."

He traced a scratch in the counter top with his fingernail. “Funny thing though, after
she moved back home, she wouldn't go near the garden. One day, she even went into
hysterics when I tried to coax her inside."

Amy finished her notes and stood up. “I'm going to wander through town and ask some
questions. Got any ideas who I should talk to?"

He shook his head. “When we were going together, Mai used to visit with practically
everyone we met. Since her father died, she's scarcely seen anyone. Lately, she even
refused to go into town for groceries."

Amy slipped her notebook into her purse. “I'll do some checking and get back to you in a
few days. Is bail being arranged?"

“What money we have is tied up. I'm stuck here."

“Hang in there, Cam. I'll do everything I can to help you.” She gave him a thumbs-up sign
and left.

The next two hours proved to be an exercise in frustration. Questions she addressed to
shop owners and people on the street produced nothing but shrugs and impassive looks.
Finally she gave up and started home.

She had crossed the Wasku River before she took any notice of the blue pickup truck
behind her. After about ten miles had passed, she saw that the vehicle was still the
same distance behind her. Smiling at herself for being paranoid, she slowed down. The
truck kept the same amount of space between them. When she sped up, so did the other
driver. She decided to get serious. Doing sixty around curves that weren't safe at
thirty-five, she tried to shake him. No way would she let him follow her home.

When she and her father set up their business, they discovered that being forensic
investigators had a down side. People they helped convict sometimes sought revenge. Now,
they met clients at places other than the office. They maintained a post office box for
their mail and kept their address out of the phone book.

She zoomed down a straight stretch of highway. The station wagon's tires drilling
asphalt, she whipped onto a graveled side road and barreled down a winding lane hemmed
by tall fir trees. Gravel spitting, she made a hard left at the intersection. When she
reached a farmhouse, she turned up the rutted driveway and stopped among screening
evergreens. Her pulse thundering in her ears, she waited.

Minutes later, a blue pickup flashed by.

The following day, Amy left the specialist's office in a rosy daze.
Twins! Now she'd have two of Nathan's children instead of only one, a double blessing,
since they would be the only reminder she'd have of him.

Three months ago, Nathan had married a woman of his own race. He'd given Amy plenty of
warning. Told her of his impending wedding. Spoken of his white mother's untimely death
and the judgment his grief-stricken father had made: white women were weak, Indian women
are strong. His father had drummed his convictions into Nathan, along with the
admonishment not to dilute his Native American bloodline any further.

She pictured Nathan's firm, resolute face and couldn't help loving him, despite the pain
he'd caused her. With a sigh, she rested her head against the wall of the elevator, and
wondered if Nathan was still so sure he'd done the right thing.

When she exited the building and glimpsed the weak but welcome January sun, her mood
lightened. The news about the twins called for a celebration.

Strolling up Seattle's Fifth Avenue, she entered the plushly carpeted lobby of the
Maxfield Hotel. On her way to the dining room, she passed a reader board. In letters so
small she had to squint to read them, the management welcomed members of “The Resort
Owner's Association.” She smiled and hoped the convention participants had better
eyesight than she did, or they'd never know where to meet.

Whiffs of opulent perfumes and a murmur of genteel voices surrounded her as she moved
through the foyer. After checking her coat, a silver haired maître d' hurried up to her.
“Is madam alone?"

“Yes,” she said, taking note of how his black suit and snowy white shirt complemented the
elegant mauve and sea foam green decor. She flashed her warmest smile. “Is that a
problem?”

“Oh, no ma'am. Please follow me.” He escorted her to a table, bowed and returned to his
station.

Pleased that her new outfit's full, navy-blue jacket and billowy pink blouse cleverly
concealed her gravid state, she settled herself on the mauve velvet chair. Picking up
the gilt menu, she beamed at the other diners and silently announced,
I'm going to be
the mother of twins.

"Amy!"

The menu fell from her hands. She must be hallucinating. Although she often carried on
long internal conversations with Nathan, this was the first time she'd imagined him
speaking to her. She glanced right and left, saw no one she recognized, and sank back in
her chair.

But then the voice came again. “Amy...? Amy, is that...?"

The sound of the familiar deep voice drawing out the syllables of her name speeded her
pulse. Finally, she caught sight of him, and when she did, everyone and everything else
faded into the background. Garbed in a dark gray pinstripe suit, he could have passed
for a successful banker, if it weren't for his black, shoulder-length hair.

She watched him approach, noting the reaction of the men as their female companions took
in the sight of Nathan, his tall, lithe form, his high cheekbones, the slight curve of
his nose, his beautiful mouth.

Oblivious to their stares, he moved through the crowd, wearing a look of bemused
wonderment.

When he reached her table, he stared down at her and shook his head. “This is
unbelievable. You're really here."

His soft tone as he spaced each word in his usual deliberate fashion sent a shiver
through her. Never in her wildest imaginings had she envisioned a meeting such as
this.

Her pulse thundering in her ears, she stared at him . “Nathan! What are
you
doing
in Seattle?” she gasped.

“Attending a resort owner's conference."

Understanding dawned on her. “Yes, I saw the sign outside.” She eased the white
tablecloth closer to her abdomen, hoping her dress concealed her pregnancy. “Is the
lodge finished then?"

“Yes,” Nathan answered. He rested his hand on the chair opposite her and smiled. “Are you
eating alone?"

She nodded and drew in a breath that didn't seem to fill her lungs. “Would you like to
join me?"

Without taking his gaze from her face, he pulled out the chair. As he lowered himself
into it, a waitress appeared. “My name is Nathan Blackthorn,” he informed the woman. He
took a room key from his jacket pocket. “Will you put our lunch on my room tab,
please?"

“Would you like a menu, Mr. Blackthorn?"

Nathan shook his head. “I'll have whatever my companion is having."

Amy snatched up the menu. Smoked salmon croquettes, the least expensive entrée on the
page, cost fifteen dollars. She gave her order and waited until the waitress moved out
of earshot before whispering, “Nathan, I can't let you treat me. The prices here are sky
high."

He narrowed his eyes, gave a careful look around, and leaned toward her. “Shh, I'm
masquerading as a big-time resort owner.” He broke into a grin and then laughed.
“Believe me, I can afford it."

Amy remembered the faded jeans and chambray shirts he'd worn when she'd first met him in
Idaho. “So it's all happening for you then."

“Yep.” He chuckled, then seemed surprised the sound had come from him. “We have a good
snow pack and the ski lifts are running full bore. Believe it or not, The Wahiliye is
booked up until spring thaw.” He smiled at her puzzled expression. “Wahiliye means Eagle
Place. Do you like it?"

Smiling, she nodded and tried to pronounce the name. “It doesn't sound half as nice when
I say it."

A mischievous look came into his eyes. “Want some lessons?"

She raised an eyebrow, but ignored the question. “You've only had the lodge four months.
How did you manage to get it up and running so fast?"

He broke into a laugh and his eyes sparkled. “Luck, fourteen-hour days, and lots of help.
I called a friend in Bavaria who used to own a resort. He flew in, liked the, area, and
decided to stay.” He shook his head. “Mammoth job, Amy."

“Well, I guess. I'm amazed you're already operational."

“I wouldn't be if not for Franz,” he said as the waitress returned with their lunch.
Nathan spread his napkin over his lap and picked up his fork. “It's really wonderful
though. Native Americans make up the majority of our work force. I opened a skill center
to train them."

Amy tasted a spicy salmon croquette and hoped the rich meal wouldn't upset her stomach.
“How did old Rock Springs react to that?"

He swallowed a forkful of salmon and smiled. “Actually, the community's been extremely
welcoming. Course, there's a lot of revenue involved."

“Amazing how quickly some people forget their prejudices in the face of money. I'm glad
it's working out,” she said as she selected a scallop-edged slice of cucumber from the
artistic nest of vegetables surrounding the two croquettes.

“How's your life going?” Nathan asked after a moment.

The question jarred her out of her reverie.
Great, just great. You're married to
another woman and I'm carrying your twins.
She pursed her lips and wobbled her
hand. “So so."

He lay down his fork. “Apparently you're happy."

She stiffened. Had she given herself away? She picked up a tiny carrot stick, bit off a
piece, chewed, and tried to swallow. “Oh?"

Nathan pushed his plate aside and concentrated on restoring his napkin to its former
pleated state. “I was on my way to the coffee shop,” he gestured toward the mezzanine,
“when I heard the man in front of me say, ‘that's what I call a pretty woman.' I glanced
over the rail and there you were.” He slowly raised his gaze to meet hers. “He didn't
even come close, Amy."

The softness in his eyes undid her. “Didn't come,” she hesitated, “close?"

He smiled. “You look absolutely beautiful."

Much to her distress, her eyes filmed over. She ducked her head, blinked rapidly, and
stretched her eyes wide to contain the moisture. When she thought it safe, she smiled
across at him. “Thanks. A woman my age needs an occasional boost."

“Say,” Nathan asked, “are you in love?"

She stayed silent for a long moment, selecting and discarding answers. “Being in love's
not the only cause of happiness, Nathan."

Nathan smiled. “No.” he said, his gaze moving over her face. “Not the only one.” His
scrutiny sharpened. “You've gained weight. That's good.” He plucked a stray shred of
lettuce from the tablecloth and deposited it on his abandoned plate, before he again met
her eyes. “I've been worried about you."

Her throat tightened. She hoped she could keep her voice steady. “No need. I'm a tough
old bird."

He lifted an eyebrow and smiled. “Sure you are. Poison couldn't kill you and bullets
bounce right off your skin.” Abruptly, his attention turned to a corner of the room,
where a clock chimed softly. With disappointment in his eyes, he pushed back his chair
and got to his feet. “I have to go. My meeting starts in a few minutes."

She laced her fingers together to keep her hands from trembling. When she spoke again,
her voice sounded tight and unnatural to her ears. “Nice seeing you again. Thanks for
lunch."

Nathan ran his thumb along the welting of the velvet chair. “Could we ... have
dinner?"

Amy stared down at her clenched hands. Much as she wanted to be with him, she knew dinner
together would only compound the pain she felt over losing him. “I have to get back to
Ursa Bay. I'm working on a case."

“I see...” He shifted his feet. “Well...” He sighed deeply. “It was nice talking to you,
Amy."

“Yes, very nice.” She spoke slowly in an effort to keep her emotions under control.
“T-take care."

He smiled sadly. “You too.” He started across the room, hesitated, and retraced his
steps. “If you should ever need me, for anything, call me.” He handed her his business
card and strode out of me room.

After watching him leave, Amy waited for the trembling to stop before picking up her
purse and preparing to leave.

As she started to rise, the skin prickled at the back of her neck. She settled back in
her chair. Someone was watching her, she could feel it. She surveyed the room, then
finally looked up. Nathan stood at the third floor railing, gazing down at her, a
strange, unreadable expression playing across his face.