Marital Privilege. Ann Peterson Voss

had come.

      She forced herself to keep her eyes on the car. She couldn’t allow herself to glance at Alec, to look one last time at the intense gray of his eyes, the gentle hook of his nose, the full lips she’d once relished kissing. It wouldn’t get her anywhere. It would only make the moment more bitter. Only remind her of what she’d once thought she’d had with him. What she’d never really had at all.

      The car wound past the first parking lot and toward the shelter.

      “There’s a cabin up near Minoqua. On Lake Tomahawk. 1342 Brinberry Road.” She could feel his gaze on her, sense the question in his eyes. “It was my dad’s fishing and hunting cabin. The one in pictures of me as a kid. Before he died, he sold it to his former partner. No one uses it until summer, so it should be empty this time of year. The key is hanging under the edge of the siding, near the door.”

      He nodded. “Thanks.”

      The car slowed near a bank of trees.

      Drawing a deep breath of resolve, Laura offered her gun to Alec, grip first.

      Alec met it with a flat palm, pushing the weapon back to her. “Keep it.”

      “I won’t be able to keep it. Not in police custody.” She looked up at him. But he was watching the car. She followed his gaze.

      The car had come to a complete stop. Now it backed into a small, gravel service path concealed by trees on one side, and the park shelter on the other. A beam of sunlight penetrated the windshield, shining like a spotlight on the occupants.

      Laura narrowed her eyes, straining to see. The driver looked young, not familiar. But the passenger—

      She let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and stared at the cut and bloodied face of the man who had dragged her from her bed. The man who had said he’d killed Sally.

      Sergei Komorov.

      “Do you still think the Beaver Falls Police Department will protect you?” Alec said, his voice as low and ominous as a rumble of thunder.

      Her mind spun. She didn’t know what to think anymore. All she knew was that there would be no officers whisking her and her baby to safety. There was no safety anymore.

      For any of them.

      Chapter Five

      Evening shadows slid into the forest as Laura ran her hand under the edge of the cabin’s siding. Except for their time at the park, she’d spent all day in the van. And even though her belly was awkwardly in the way, it felt good to bend and stretch out her hamstrings. Her fingers brushed rough wood and swiped through webs and sticky egg sacks left by last year’s crop of spiders. She shivered, but kept groping until her fingers hit a protruding nail. She slid her fingers down the nail, gripped the key and slipped it free. At least the key’s hiding spot hadn’t changed. Pushing herself to her feet, she circled to the door.

      Other than the crackle of sticks under Alec’s feet as he walked around the cabin’s perimeter, the forest was silent. In summer, the song of frogs along the lakeshore and the chirp of crickets filled the dusk, finally giving way to the haunting calls of loons late into the night. But in April the lake was just waking up from winter, and only the birds broke their silence.

      She slipped the key into the lock. Rusty tumblers ground and scraped as the dead bolt slid open. Alec had said he wanted to collect firewood to ward off the north woods chill before he joined her in the cabin. But Laura knew his real motivation for exploring the forest surrounding the cabin had more to do with security than warmth. It was just as well. She hadn’t set foot in the cabin since her father had become sick. And with the uncertain way she felt about Alec, she’d rather confront the house and her memories alone.

      She turned the knob and pushed. Hinges creaked as it swung wide. Picking up the bags of groceries, clothing and bandages for Alec’s arm Alec had bought at a Wal-Mart on the way out of Beaver Falls, she stepped onto the worn white-and-yellow-patterned linoleum she remembered from childhood.

      Her mother’s deep-gold curtains had been replaced with a cheery yellow-and-red check, but the rest of the kitchen appeared untouched. Leave it to Frank to keep the same decor. He probably couldn’t bring himself to change anything his former partner had picked out unless he was forced.

      Laura breathed in the faint scent of mildew and mothballs. Even that hadn’t changed. She remembered stashing mothballs around the cabin before winter to keep the mice out. Apparently, that strategy still worked.

      Setting the bags on the kitchen counter, she pulled out the maternity clothing, undergarments and shoes Alec had bought, and stepped through the archway leading into the cabin’s only other room. This room, too, was just as she remembered. Sure there were a few new sticks of furniture: a pleather recliner, a sofa bed near the wood-burning stove. But the ancient couch still dominated the room that doubled as gathering area and bedroom, its orange stripes as vibrantly loud as ever. The Bengal tiger of couches, her dad used to call it.