Becki clutched the sheets to her chest like some old-time romance heroine and stared at the windows. “Marcus?”
One movement and the door slammed shut. Two steps and he had the narrow gap in the curtains snapped closed. He rotated toward her, anger in his eyes, body gone tight with tension. “We had a visitor. I’m calling Ted to inform him that next time, the cops get involved.”
Her stomach fell. “You think it was reporters?”
Marcus grimaced, pacing back to sit on the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his hips. “I don’t usually have neighbours coming over on a Saturday morning to borrow cups of sugar, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“No, I understand how they get.” She had far-too-clear memories of being hounded by reporters. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Nothing you did.” Marcus stroked her leg under the sheet, looking her over carefully. She tried not to show how out of whack she was, but it must have been apparent because he sighed. With a pat to her thigh, he changed topics. “Come on, I’ll get breakfast.”
Her nerves still tingled with her almost-orgasm, but he was right. Slipping back into sex wasn’t going to work. “Frustration is not my cup of tea. Just to be clear.”
Marcus’s smile twitched. “Mine, either, but we can finish this later. Hit the shower.”
By the time she stepped back into the bedroom, wrapped in a towel, clean clothes were waiting for her on the bed. She dressed quickly, the comfortable familiar clothing helping to set her a little more at ease.
Whatever was going to happen today, she would survive it. She was strong, capable. No matter how confused, she could do this. Having Marcus to help her . . . Maybe she shouldn’t have felt as much comfort at the thought that he’d promised to be there for her, but right now she wasn’t about to wonder why.
He had breakfast laid on the table, the curtains opened to the view. Becki walked to the glass and peered out on the grey and cold.
“There’s snow again,” she complained. “Haven’t we had enough?”
On the deck a clear line of footprints led to the windows, then disappeared around the corner toward the bedroom.
Marcus stepped beside her and hugged her briefly. “Our Peeping Tom. I made a few calls.”
Becki nodded, then deliberately turned her back on the mountains, choosing a chair at the table where the only thing she saw was Marcus seated across from her.
Which wasn’t a bad view, to be honest.
Fighting the numbness inside, Becki pushed herself forward. She’d been here before, ready to fall apart, and sheer determination had rescued her. One day at a time.
She had to get through this day, and that meant getting through this hour. “Tell me what you’ve already done, and what’s next.”
Marcus went through the list of people he’d been in contact with while she’d been showering and dressing. It was short but made it clear he wasn’t messing around. The newspaper and the RCMP were both on the list. Every point he mentioned, she nodded, eating her breakfast with more appetite than he’d have been able to muster in the same conditions.
When he reached the end, he leaned back in his chair and examined her carefully. “Good so far?”
“About what I’d have done, although you have all the contacts here in Banff to do it quicker. Thank you.” Becki pulled over the notepad she’d been jotting down notes on. “I need to call Alisha and thank the team for their support. The news must have been a terrible shock for them as well—I’m grateful they stood up for me.”
“You’ve made a good impression on them, Becki,” Marcus assured her. “You’re not just Rebecca James, some unknown superstar, anymore. You’re obviously considered part of the team.”
That conjured her first full smile of the day. “Thanks. Still, I want to let them know it means the world.”
“Monday will be soon enough—there’s no training this weekend.” Something occurred to him. “Hmm, the fact that it’s the weekend might make it more difficult to reach anyone in Yellowstone. I assume you have contacts?”
She nodded.
“If the authorities need to get hold of you, they will, e-mail or phone. If you want to make contact first, that’s fine as well.” Marcus hesitated, but had to ask. “Did you want to return to Yellowstone for Dane? A memorial or something?”
She clutched her fork a little tighter but shook her head. “We already had a funeral, and there’s not anyone who wants to do it all over.”
And after more than eight months, he didn’t want Becki to have to deal with the body. “Family who might want him buried somewhere in particular?”
“No. It’s too bad they found him, in a way.” Becki lifted her gaze to his. “And I know I can say this to you, because you’ll get it. I’m not talking about the trouble this means to me—them finding his body. It’s just, things were done, and now they’re not. Even your question about a memorial. Dane wasn’t close with his adoptive parents. He’d gotten in contact with his birth mother for the first time a couple of months earlier, but nothing more seemed to come of it. It’s sad he’s gone, but being buried on the mountainside was what he would have wanted if he’d had the choice.”
She shivered, and her eyes grew wide.
“Becki?”
“Thought I’d remembered something.” She stared across the table and sighed. “It’s gone. I’m not sure what it was, but you need to know—last night I dreamed about the accident again.”
“Figured you would.”
“I remembered the next part after that scene when things repeated all the time. Dane fell and I got yanked upward. I rigged new lines to haul him up, but they failed. I got dragged nearly off the cliff—” Becki shivered hard enough her body shook. She lifted her tired gaze to meet his, sorrow and fear overwhelming her. “And that’s where it ended. I had my knife ready, Marcus. And I was being pulled toward the ledge.”
He didn’t snap out the first thing that came to mind, because if he did, she’d probably wave his assurances away. Instead, he took a step back. “For the record? I understand what you meant about Dane and the mountain.”
She nodded, small jerky motions. “Thanks.”
The doorbell rang, and she shot to her feet.
Marcus waved her down. “I’ll get it.”
He cautiously opened the door a crack. What he found on his doorstep made his temper flare. “You’re not welcome here, Ted.”
The other man shrugged. “Had to try. I’m not the only one looking for information. Of course, if I get a story then the others will probably back off a little more. No promises, but it might work. If Ms. James wants to talk?” The reporter raised his voice at the end.
Marcus crowded forward. “Get off my property.”
The man stared over Marcus’s shoulder. “Sure. No problem.”
Marcus didn’t believe that for a second. This intrusion was only the first attempt. He knew it. Ted knew it.
When he turned to face Becki, he could tell from her expression she knew it as well.
“They won’t go away because you told them to,” she warned. “They never did when I was in Yellowstone.”
He paced to her side. “We’ll do what we can to help. All of us will. Maybe there will be some huge political scandal in the next few days, and they’ll all scurry off to bother someone else.”
Becki folded her arms over her chest, fingers cupping her upper arms as she rubbed. “I hate this. I hate not knowing. I hate being poked.” She stared into his eyes, concern creasing her face. “If they go by rote, we’ll be trapped in your house or swarmed every time we leave. I’m sorry.”
Marcus slipped his fingers around her neck and pulled her against his chest. “Now that’s one of those ‘Don’t be stupid and apologize for things you didn’t cause’ statements.”