he’d said.
True to form, Billy came back with his usual spikey
attitude. “Oh, yeah? Well, maybe I’ll be shaking a set of wheels on the dance
floor. Yesterday, my daughter and I were at the open house at Casey’s school. I
went snooping to get a look at this new ballroom instructor everybody was
talking about, and before I knew it, she had me out on the floor learning some
moves. Would you believe they have wheelchair ballroom dancing? And she asked
me to be her partner.”
While Miles teased Billy about it, Parker retreated into his
thoughts. Two guesses who the new teacher was.
“By the way, Parker,” Billy said, “this lady is smoking hot.
If I were you, I’d ask my sister for an intro.”
Chapter Eleven
They rounded the island’s southeastern corner. Parker slowed
up. And for good reason. A white mix of foam and spray exploded into the air as
waves broke against a chain of mean-looking boulders that jutted out from the
beach a hundred yards into the Sound.
His fishing boat was an old one he’d refurbished. A
twenty-two foot Robalo. No cabin or anything. Just a shiny white hull, a couple
bucket seats up front and a bench across the back where he kept fishing
supplies.
Tanya sat next to him, the wind making her hair fly about.
She’d dressed in sneakers, tight jeans and a snug jersey. And looked sexy as
hell. Sitting this close to her wasn’t easy. Especially when she kept so
silent.
Was she pissed about him showing up at the house sale with
Alix Nicole? Or maybe she was still half-asleep? For years he’d awakened
wishing Tanya were in bed with him and wondering what she’d be like in the
early morning.
He took the boat in closer and coasted toward the small dock
before switching off the engine. He glanced at Tanya. “You all right?”
She shot a testy look at him. “Of course. Why shouldn’t I
be?”
“You barely grunted two words the whole trip.”
“So?”
“Just wondered if you were upset over something.”
“What would I be upset over?”
If this was any indication of her mood, today was going to
be an absolute joy. “I don’t know. You tell me.” He didn’t bother waiting for
the answer.
Parker hopped from the side of the boat onto the dock. He
got down on one knee and tightened the line around the piling, his pale blue
windbreaker wet from the spray and clinging to his frame.
Tanya passed him the duffle bag with tools, the metal
detector, two shovels and pickaxe. Setting things down, he reached his hand out
for her as she hoisted herself onto the dock. They divvied up the gear and
marched across the sand toward dense stands of trees, mostly oak and pitch
pine.
Salt air and the sound of waves blended with a chorus of
songbirds and forest scents. Peaceful and exhilarating. “Let’s do this,” Parker
said, trying for a game mood.
But after two hours of trudging through dense grasses and
rocky soil, unable to decide which place seemed to match the instructions on
the map, frustrations grew. “Don’t these flies and mosquitoes ever let up?”
Tanya complained.
“They wouldn’t be quite as bad if we’d gotten here earlier.
But you needed your beauty sleep.”
“Don’t start.”
“You’re the one who’s been cranky all morning.” Parker
pulled the map from his backpack. “Something’s off. And I think it’s us.” He
held the paper out at an angle so Tanya could share a glimpse.
“I don’t get it,” she said, gulping a swig from her water
bottle. “We’ve been following the streambed the whole time.”
“Except eighty years ago when your uncle was alive it wasn’t
a dried up bed but a stream with running water.”
“Running. Not running. What’s the difference? The bed marks
out the same place.”
“Maybe not. Land changes over time. Streams can change
course.”
“Yeah. So you said.” Tanya slumped to the ground and sat
cross-legged. “I need a break anyway.”
He sat on the ground next to her and couldn’t help thinking
of when
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
John O'Riley
Brenda Sinclair
Christopher George
Stephen Lloyd Jones
Karl Iagnemma
Celya Bowers
Jill Gregory
Aria Cunningham