to go out of town. Can you take care of the place?”
“Sure, where you going?”
“Just a quick getaway.”
“Sounds great. You know I’m kinda miffed. You never mentioned your darling boyfriend.”
She felt a stir of alarm. “That’s because I don’t have one.”
“Care to explain the good-looking cop who stopped by? He was in plainclothes, of course, but he showed me a badge.”
Jackie froze, unable to speak.
Patti continued. “Handsome fella. How can you resist an ex-Navy man? Just the thought of dating a sailor gives me a charge.”
“I don’t….”
“He told me that you decided to break things off because of his dangerous job and all that. He wanted to come patch things up. He wondered if you’d left town, maybe gone to Maryland.”
“Maryland?” The lights flickered before her eyes. He knows I have family in Maryland? Jackie forced a cheerful tone. “He sure has put a lot of thought into it, hasn’t he?”
“I guess so. Anyway, I gotta go.”
“Can you take care of my things until I get back?”
“Okay, but you’re going to have an empty fridge by that time. Bye.”
Jackie squeezed the phone between her clammy palms.
The stranger knew her father was in Maryland. He knew where she lived here in San Francisco. The cop, if he really was a cop, was probably out right now checking all the places she frequented. Dr. Reynolds had set things in motion with alarming speed. She could feel nothing but cold, blind panic.
An image of Roman rose in her mind, the rock solid strength that had never failed her except for the one awful moment in Alaska that had changed everything. She thought of his laughter and sense of adventure, which had been a balm for her as long as she could remember. That part of your life is dead, Jackie. She blinked the memory back into the past where it belonged.
In a fog she joined the end of the nearest ticket line. For the first time, she considered where she could go. She just needed time, time to think things through, a safe place to figure out a plan. Not in Maryland—she could never risk involving her father. He’d be safe as long as she stayed far away until things were settled.
The line snaked its way along until Jackie found herself at the front. The efficient woman behind the desk looked at her. “Where to?”
“I…” Speech failed her. What place would be safe until she could climb out of the mess she’d gotten herself into?
“What is your destination, ma’am?”
She would fly to the farthest corner she could think of, the place that held her most precious memories and the echoes of her most terrible nightmare. Jackie’s mouth formed the word, but her mind did not believe it.
“Alaska.”
Roman Carter drove the rattletrap van with Wayne’s Aviation emblazoned on the side to the small airport on the edge of town. The day was clear, the roads newly plowed of snow. He felt an unusual surge of optimism. Maybe the tourists would start to come again, in spite of the economy. If the flight load picked up, he might be able to make progress toward owning his own plane.
He pulled up at the airstrip that cut its way through the tiny town of Foster and headed toward the two people in the shuttle-waiting area, a heavyset, dark-haired man with a mustache, and a small figure, bundled into a coat that wasn’t warm enough with a crumpled baseball hat pulled down low over the brim.
“Hello, folks. I understand you need a ride to the Delucchi Lodge.”
The heavyset man nodded and extended a hand. “Byron Lloyd.”
“Roman Carter. Good to meet you.” Roman noticed a price tag sticking out from the neck of the man’s jacket and hid a smile.
The man followed Roman’s look and detached the price tag with a chuckle. “Luggage got lost somewhere. All I have is my duffel bag—it’s a good thing I carry it everywhere. Had to buy this jacket at the airport, and it cost me a good chunk of change.”
Roman turned to the other figure, wondering at first if the person was hard of hearing. After a long moment, she lifted her chin so he got a good view of her face.
“We’ve already met,” she said.
He blinked in shock. Jackie Swann stood before him, strands of her copper hair trailing from underneath her hat, amber eyes looking at him with a mixture of surprise and anger. He couldn’t speak.
Jackie cleared her throat and straightened her small frame. “I didn’t know you worked for the Delucchis.”
He forced his mouth to start moving. “I don’t. I work for Wayne Fisk. I fly people to the lodge.” The fierce desire to ask why she was here burned in him. Why would she come back? He bit down on the words, forcibly stilling the barrage of feelings that whipped through him like a savage Alaskan storm. He moved to take her small bag.
She grabbed it before he could. “I’ll carry it.”
“Fine.” The two followed him out to the shuttle. Byron Lloyd filled the strained silence by peppering Roman with questions.
“I’m a freelance writer, you see. Covering this Winterfest deal. A festival to celebrate winter. Clever marketing. How many people are you expecting?”
“Hard to say. Not as many travelers these days.”
“Am I going to get cell phone coverage and Internet at the lodge?”
“Internet, yes. No cell unless you have a satellite phone.”
They arrived at the airstrip and loaded the plane. Roman hated to do it, but he asked Jackie to sit in the front to balance the weight properly. She reluctantly agreed. He offered an arm as she climbed up into the plane, but she ignored it.
He ducked into the office to check in with Wayne once more before he flew out.
Wayne looked up from his top-of-the-line computer and gave Roman a close look. “What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“It’s nothing.” He walked to the plane feeling that Wayne was right. The ghost of his past, of his sins, of his longings, had come back to dredge up the horror he’d tried so hard to put behind him. Looking at Jackie’s delicate profile as she stared out the window, he wondered.
Why are you here?
TWO
Jackie stared out the window at the blinding white below. She felt it inside too—a stark, flat feeling, as though her heart was as frozen and untouchable as the tundra. Why hadn’t she seen it coming? Roman had always been interested in flying. He loved the outdoors. It was a logical leap that he would still be working in Alaska, but she never suspected he would be so closely connected to Delucchi Lodge. Not after what had happened, not after two long years.
Her stomach knotted and she kept her gaze as far away from Roman as possible. Dark hair, longish, falling into his face. A shadow of stubble on his strong chin, dimples when he’d smiled at Byron Lloyd, and the eyes, the familiar hazel eyes, self-assured, confident, cocky. In the two years they’d been apart, nothing had changed. He was the same Roman.
She could hear her father’s angry voice in her mind.
He killed your brother. I will never forgive him. Never.
They had had only one tortured conversation after the accident. It was the only time she’d seen Roman completely vulnerable, unable to even form a coherent sentence, his then twenty-three-year-old face twisted in agony. She closed her eyes at the awful memory.
Squeezing her hands together she forced