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“I have a lot to do,” Herb said, going to his truck and rummaging through the rusted toolbox in back.
Colin had been trying to pin his grandfather down these past few days, but somehow Herb always managed to avoid a serious conversation. Maybe now that they were stuck on this mountain together, Herb would have to talk.
“Lillian’s worried about you,” Colin said.
“What’s she got to do with anything?”
“Knock it off, Herb,” Colin said mildly. “I know you and Lillian are seeing each other.”
Herb shrugged. “She’s the one who wants to keep it a secret. She thinks it’d be a big scandal, a fifty-nine-year-old youngster like her having a fling with the seventy-six-year-old mayor of Sobriety.”
Colin knew that Herb didn’t mind mentioning his age because he was still fit enough to scramble through mine tunnels—and obviously still fit enough to have a fling.
“Okay, she wants it to be a secret,” Colin said. “Which means she must have been pretty upset to call me long-distance and spill the beans about being your girlfriend. Not that I have the story straight yet. Lillian’s been a little obscure. Something about you running around town at midnight in a sheet—”
Herb chuckled. “Hell, if you want to know what happened, why don’t you just come right out and ask? Lillian and I were down at the mining museum late one night, having a good time so to speak. When Rose Bradshaw almost walked in on us, I tried to make my escape like a gentleman. Is it my fault Rose caught an eyeful of me in that sheet and started spreading rumors that she’d seen a ghost? Good old Rose. Serves her right for being too vain to wear her bifocals.”
A jay flapped by, making a racket as it landed in a nearby tree. Colin realized the absurdity of the conversation. “Look,” he said, “it’s not that night Lillian’s so worried about. It’s what came after... namely, your half-baked scheme to make people think the museum really is haunted.”
“Nothing half-baked about it,” Herb said selfrighteously. “I planned the whole thing out. Made sure Rose had another sighting of her ghost... spread a few rumors of my own. Town’s getting a kick out of it, and tourism’s already up—exactly what we need. The way I see it, I’m only doing my duty as mayor. I’m supposed to encourage what’s good for business, aren’t I? Well, seems a ghost is good for business.”
The whole thing was ridiculous, but Colin had promised Lillian he’d have this talk with Herb. He couldn’t very well stop now. “Okay, so you’re having a little fun. But if it comes out you’re behind the hoax, you’ll be the town laughingstock, to use Lillian’s term. It’ll ruin your career as mayor.”
“No one’ll find out,” Herb said confidently. “Lillian worries too much. Never thought you did, though. Are you telling me you flew all the way out from California for this?”
It was more complicated than that. Sure, Lillian’s phone call had reminded him he was overdue for a visit to his grandfather. But it had also given Colin an excuse to take some time off work and get out of California for a while. The old restlessness had driven him—a dissatisfaction that came upon him every couple of years or so, telling him it was time for a change...time to raise the stakes, time to push himself and find a challenge more difficult than the last.
“Herb,” Colin said now, “I thought being mayor meant a lot to you. Why mess with it?”
Herb got his stubborn look. “This town needs some stirring up. People like a ghost story. And if it’s good for business, it’s worth the risk. Maybe it’ll even be good for morale. Things just haven’t been that great around here since...” When he fell silent Colin knew Herb probably wasn’t thinking about the town anymore. No doubt he was thinking instead of the son he had lost some twenty-five years ago. Thomas McIntyre...Colin’s father.
Herb gripped the side of the truck bed, staring off into the distance. The sadness and regret in his expression were unmistakable. He was thinking about his son, all right. Thomas, the Vietnam War hero who’d died tragically young in an automobile accident. Colin didn’t think Herb had ever recovered from that loss. Maybe nobody in the family had.
Thomas was the real ghost haunting the McIntyres.
IT COULD HIT ALEX at the most unexpected times.
Take right now, for instance. She was driving along the streets of Sobriety, Idaho, when just ahead she saw a young couple stopped in the middle of the sidewalk—the man speaking earnestly, the woman with her arms crossed, a resistant expression on her face.
They might just as well have been Alex and Jonathan. Only, Alex would have been the one talking so earnestly, Jonathan the one resisting. Their marriage had been like that throughout—Alex playing suitor to her husband’s emotions, trying to draw them out. And Jonathan hoarding his feelings, as if they were some rare coinage and he a collector. Except, all along Alex had believed Jonathan needed to be close to her. If only either of them had known how to make it happen...
The sense of failure was so strong this time that she had to pull over to the curb for a moment. She sat there in her rental car, staring out the windshield. The couple on the sidewalk passed, the woman with her arms still crossed, striding just ahead of the man. Alex’s mouth twisted in a wry smile. A man and a woman out of step. That was how she and Jonathan had been...always out of step.
Now, after eight years of marriage, it was almost over—the divorce almost final. Eight years gone, with nothing left but inadequacy and heartbreak. Alex felt as though there was a soreness inside her that would never heal. She’d loved Jonathan... seemingly desperately at times. And surely he’d loved her. So how was it that they’d both failed so utterly?
Alex laughed humorlessly. The irony was too painful. Dr. Alexandra Robbins, psychologist... mender of other people’s emotional blights, yet totally unable to mend her own. At least she had one consolation—no one was likely to recognize her here in the northern reaches of Idaho. Unlike Chicago. After appearing on a few local talk shows last year, she’d suddenly had complete strangers coming up to her, asking for advice. What would those people say if they knew the disaster of her personal life?
She restarted the car and pulled away from the curb. These past few difficult months, one thing alone had kept her going—her research. It had given her an excuse to stay late at the office instead of going home to an empty house. It had kept her thoughts on rescuers... instead of the marriage she hadn’t been able to save.
But then she’d received the video of Colin McIntyre, and suddenly her research was no longer an uncomplicated refuge from the realities of life. Every time she watched that video something disturbing happened to her. She’d see the image of flames burning orange-red on the screen, and her heart would pound uncomfortably. Then the camera would swing down, focusing on Colin’s face...grim, angry, soot-covered. Alex would stare into the clear, startling blue of his eyes, and her heart would pound all the more, an unfamiliar anxiety washing over her.
It didn’t make any sense at all. Why would an image on a television screen affect her that way? Alex had learned that Colin belonged to an elite emergency services team in California, trained in mountain search-and-rescue, helicopter evac, earthquake relief—in short, just about any type of rescue required. She was convinced he’d give her study the spark of life it needed. Yet something warned her to stay away from him. Something dark and confusing, and almost frightening...
“What is it?” she whispered. “What’s wrong with me?”
She hated unanswered questions. Maybe that was why, at this very minute, she was on her way to find Colin McIntyre.
After turning down another street, she parked in front of a quaint old house built of honey-colored stone, with a green-shingle roof that looked like thatch in need of mowing. Alex got out of her car and went up the walk. Learning that Colin’s grandfather lived here hadn’t been all that difficult after Alex discovered the citizens of Sobriety liked to chat about one another. That was why it had been so easy to find Colin at Maggie’s Diner earlier today. Now she climbed the steps of the porch and lifted the old-fashioned brass knocker. After a moment the door swung open, and a shaggy white terrier came shooting out.
“Oh, hell,” said a gravelly voice from inside the house. “Grab him, will you? He knows I want to give him his medicine. Won’t let me near.”
An elderly man appeared at the door, and Alex obligingly scooped up the little dog. It squirmed in her arms but then peered at her curiously.
“Hey, you’re adorable, aren’t you?” she murmured.
“He already knows that,” said the man. “Makes him think he can get away with murder.”
Still cradling the dog, Alex examined the old man, who had shaggy white hair of his own. He was unmistakably Colin’s grandfather—the clear, intense blue eyes were exactly the same. So, too, was the straightforward, no-nonsense manner.
“Bring him along, will you. He answers to Dusty,” said Herb McIntyre, obviously not concemed about other introductions.
Alex followed him down a hall and into a spacious kitchen with porcelain sinks, checkerboard tile and an honest-to-goodness wood-burning stove.
“Sit down,” said Herb.
Alex sat the dog in her lap. Herb approached with a pill in hand. Dusty buried his head stubbornly.
“Maybe you should disguise the pill,” Alex said. “You know, hide it in some food.”
“Tried that,” said Herb. “Too smart—he knows. Just eats around it. Now, think you can hold his mouth open while I pop it in?”
“Well...” Alex began doubtfully.
And just then Colin McIntyre appeared. He was tall, as she’d thought, and seemed to fill the doorway. Right now he was gazing at her with something she could only call disfavor.
“So,” he said. “You and Herb have met.”
“Of course we have,” said the old man. “From the look of her, she’s that pretty psychologist Denise told me about, the one you had breakfast with this morning.”
“In case you hadn’t noticed,” Colin told Alex, “news travels fast in Sobriety.”
She nodded, unable to say anything at the moment.
“Have to get this damn medicine down somehow,” Herb said. “Vet’s orders.”
“Maybe he just needs a little distraction,” Colin suggested.
He pulled up a chair next to Alex. Their knees brushed as he petted the little terrier. Odd that he had such powerfully built hands, yet they could be so gentle...
Dusty was enjoying all the attention, and he relaxed enough for a pink tongue to loll out. Herb popped the pill in, and Colin held the dog’s jaw shut, forcing him to swallow. Now Dusty got an offended look and hopped down from Alex’s lap.
“Done,” said Herb.
A silence descended. Herb glanced from Colin to Alex. “Well,” he said. “Guess you want me out of here. From what Denise says, you two have things to talk about. Come on, boy.” He left the kitchen, the little dog trotting after him.
Alex and Colin were still sitting knee to knee. She pushed her chair back awkwardly.
“Mr. McIntyre—”
“Colin, remember?”
“Right. Colin.” She felt foolish, didn’t know why, and that just made her feel more out of sorts.
He stood, took a mug from the cabinet and set it on the table. Then he opened a tin, pulled out a tea bag and filled a kettle with water. He placed it on a gas oven that looked too modern next to the lumbering wood-burning stove.
“Funny, but you don’t strike me as the domestic type,” she said.
“I can boil water. Don’t expect much else.” He turned his chair around and straddled it, resting his arms along the back.
“You remembered that I drink tea,” she said, feeling more foolish than ever.
“Sometimes I’m observant,” he said. “Take right now, for instance. You’ve tracked me down, Alex Robbins, but you’re still wondering if you even want to talk to me.”
“Of course I want to talk to you,” she said. “Why else would I be here—”
“You tell me,” he said.
She stared into his eyes, and her pulse did something erratic. She reminded herself how important her research was, the one thing giving meaning and shape to her life these days.
“I’ve been thinking,” she said, “about that phone conversation I had with your boss the other day. He said some pretty interesting things... about that apartment fire, for instance. Apparently you were more than a little reckless in the process of rescuing that little boy. So reckless that both you and your partner almost lost your lives.”
She knew she was trying to goad Colin, unsettle him somehow. But all he did was gaze back at her impassively. The kettle whistled and he went to turn off the burner. After splashing some water over the tea bag in Alex’s mug, he sat down again.
“Don’t you wonder about it yourself?” she asked. “Why you need to risk your life.”
“I do my job,” he said. “That’s all.”
Alex shook her head. “It’s never that simple.”
“Guess it’s not,” he said. “Look at you, Alex. You keep saying you want to study me...but what you’d really like to do is catch the next plane back to Chicago and never see me again.”
She stared at him. “What makes you think—”
“Like I said, Alex—I’m observant.” He looked at her speculatively. “Have to admit I’m curious. What’s making you stick around here, doing something you don’t want to do?”
How neatly he’d turned the conversation from himself. Worst of all, how perceptive he was. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to feel this strange unease.
“Might as well drink your tea,” he said.
When she picked up the mug, her fingers trembled just the slightest. She set it back down quickly. What was happening to her?
She didn’t know. But whatever it was, it had something to do with Colin McIntyre. And that scared her most of all.
CHAPTER TWO
IF YOU WERE COMING to northern Idaho by plane, the Silver Lake airport was the closest you could get to Sobriety. Not that the airport was anything to shout about—commuter flights and twin engines were usually all that landed here. The fact that Colin’s fifteen-year-old son was arriving by charter would probably cause a commotion.
Colin stood at the window of the small airport building, staring out at the tarmac. The last time he’d seen his son was a month ago, and as usual the encounter hadn’t gone well. His ex-wife said he was just trying too hard with Sean, trying to make every visit an event. But when you were divorced and you only got to see your kid every so often...you had to make it an event, didn’t you?
Colin had an image of the way things should be when you had a fifteen-year-old son. The teenage years were supposed to be the special years, the best time to be a dad—throwing a football around in the park, hockey games, basketball tickets to the Lakers, fishing trips and backpacking through the Sierras. Trouble was, Sean didn’t seem to like doing any of those things with his father. In fact, he didn’t seem to like his father much at all.
Colin paced restlessly at the window. Sure, he’d put his time in when Sean was young. He’d done his share of diapers and midnight feedings, school plays, parent-teacher conferences. But for a while now Sean had been old enough for the good stuff—those special years. Only, the good stuff didn’t seem to be good enough for Sean. What was wrong with the kid?
Of course, there’d been a new development this past year: Sean’s landing a part on that TV show. It had complicated things big time. His son, the actor. He still couldn’t get used to the idea. In all fairness, he knew his ex-wife couldn’t get used to the idea, either. Beth hadn’t gone looking to make Sean a child star. She’d just been catering a party in L.A., and Sean had been helping her out. One of the guests had turned out to be a producer. He’d been intrigued with Sean, said the boy had potential. Next thing anybody knew, Sean was reading for a part. Next thing after that, he was in a TV series. Fairy tale come true...or nightmare. Because now, according to Beth, Sean was out of control. Beth was fed up with him, and Sean was being shipped out to Idaho for Colin to “set him straight.”
A speck appeared in the sky, grew larger, and soon his son’s charter came in for a landing. Colin watched from the window a moment longer, then realized he should be out there with a greeting. He was halfway across the tarmac when he saw Sean emerge from the plane. Taller, it seemed, than a month ago, and a little on the lanky side. The dark glasses he had on gave him a too-sophisticated look.
Colin raised his hand. Scan didn’t wave back. Instead he went down the steps and, without another glance in Colin’s direction, disappeared into a limousine waiting a short distance off. Then the limo drove away.
At first Colin thought it was just a misunderstanding. He even began to jog after the car. But then he realized what a damn fool he must look like, sprinting across the tarmac and waving his arms at a rapidly vanishing limousine. This was no misunderstanding. Sean had, for all intents and purposes, ditched him.
A few moments later Colin was in his Jeep. His son had a good start on him, and by the time he reached the highway he could barely see the limo way up the road. At least it was headed toward Sobriety. Colin pressed on the gas. Eventually he was right on the limo’s tail. He couldn’t see inside it, though, the windows were that tinted. What did he think he was going to do next—start honking, force the limo off the road? And then give his son a big welcome hug?
He followed the limo all the way into Sobriety, staring at the tinted glass that wouldn’t let him see in. And he couldn’t help noting that the dark barrier between his son and him symbolized their relationship precisely.
Question was...how did he get Sean to open up to him?
IT WAS ALEX’S SECOND visit to Herbie McIntyre’s house. As she used the old-fashioned brass knocker, she half expected to see Dusty the terrier come bouncing out. Instead, when the door opened, she was confronted by a teenage boy. He looked familiar, and no wonder. He was so much a younger version of Colin—the same dark hair, same intent blue eyes, maybe the same stubborn demeanor.
“Hi,” the boy said with interest.
“You’re late, Alex.”
Colin appeared behind the boy, and Alex was struck by the fact that the two were even dressed alike—khaki shorts and a Dodgers T-shirt for the man, faded cutoffs and a Packers T-shirt for the boy.
“Thought maybe you’d decided not to come,” Colin said quickly.
“Actually I’m right on time,” she told him, not seeing the need for that brief amusement in Colin’s eyes. Colin hadn’t argued about her coming over today, but he still hadn’t agreed to be her “guinea pig.”
“This is my son, Sean,” he said. “Sean—Dr. Alex Robbins.”
The boy gave Colin a disgusted glance and wandered back inside the house. Colin gazed after him with a slight frown. It seemed that the McIntyre males were at odds.
“I didn’t know you had a son,” Alex said.
“Unfortunately Sean doesn’t appear to know it, either,” Colin said dryly.
“Anything you want to talk about?”
