“Any more than to sentiment?”
He nodded. “You have a strange effect on me, Eve. I don’t believe it has anything to do with the fact that you’re my daughter.” He paused. “That caused you to stiffen, didn’t it? You don’t like me saying that. You’re closing your eyes to the possibility. But someday, if we both stay alive, you’re going to have to ask me a few questions, too. Because you’re an honest woman and can’t hide from the truth for very long.”
“And would you tell me the truth?”
“If it suited me.” He met her eyes. “I think … maybe I would. We’ll have to see, won’t we?” He turned away and started to smother the fire. “Get going. You’re on borrowed time. Doane will be on the hunt soon.”
“I’m going.” But Eve lingered a moment longer, her gaze on Zander. The fire was casting a halo of light on his white hair, and he was moving with the athletic power and vitality of a young man. These hours they had spent together had been strange and bewildering and filled with emotions she had tried to smother. She couldn’t believe him, and she had no desire to accept anything he said to her. But one thing she had to accept was that Zander had said he would let her go, and he had kept his word.
Zander glanced up at her. “Now don’t get maudlin. I prefer you spitting cold little ice darts at me.”
“Maudlin? Bullshit.” She turned back to the woods. But she found she couldn’t leave it like that. Not with Doane hovering and threatening both of them and so forming a united bond between them that might be unwelcome but was unquestionable.
“Take care,” she muttered as she strode hurriedly into the woods.
* * *
ZANDER CHUCKLED AS HE watched Eve disappear from view.
Those last two words had been difficult for her. He could understand. They would have been impossible for him.
Or would they?
He thought about it. He was surprised he was even considering the question. Yet had he not done almost the same thing when warning her to stay away from the ghost town until he could distract Doane?
Good God, it had seemed entirely natural to offer her the protection of his experience if not his actual physical aid.
Forget it. He had taken what he wanted from her during those hours. He had satisfied his curiosity.
But had she also taken something from him during those hours?
Get to work.
When he had decided not to use Eve as bait, he had known that the game would be harder and more hazardous. He had put a plan in place, and now it must be executed. Doane was an expert in tracking, and he would know soon that there was someone else out here with whom to contend. He might know even now.
Zander could feel a tiny jolt of excitement at the thought. For years he had not felt more than the cool, logical, mathematical appreciation for a puzzle about to be solved. Was it because Eve was involved in this puzzle that it was different?
Take her out of the equation as he’d intended. Why go to the trouble of releasing her and sending her on her way if Doane was going to recapture her? It would be a failure for Zander if that happened. He detested failure.
He strode back to the trail where he’d taken Eve down and knocked her unconscious. He erased all signs of that encounter. Then he backtracked her trail, carefully obscuring her footprints by smoothing the ground and artfully dragging vegetation over them. Finally, he found two clear footprints of Eve’s. These would do nicely.
Zander reached into his pack and pulled out the small container of instamold modeling compound. He broke the seal and immediately spread it into the footprints, knowing it would harden almost instantly once in contact with the air. It wasn’t ideal; a silicone-based material would be a much better match for Eve’s shoe prints when leaving a false trail, but that would have taken far too long to harden.
After a couple minutes, he pulled out his casts. They would do. He could leave an occasional print in the frost-hardened mud. Just enough to keep Doane on the trail. It would not be foolproof but good enough to withstand scrutiny in the darkness.
Then he took the collar of Eve’s shirt and ripped it into tiny shreds. Large enough pieces for Doane to occasionally catch sight of the material on a bush or tree.
He was back at the fire and erased all signs of himself but kept Eve’s impressions clear. He put out the fire and faded into the forest.
It wouldn’t take long to erase the direction of Eve’s footprints as she’d left the campfire. Then he’d double back and start a new trail for her in the opposite direction that would go deep in the valley and totally away from the log cabin and the road leading to the ghost town.
It would have been easier for him to just go the same route as Eve and try to set a trap along the trail. He had carefully refused to ask himself why he hadn’t done it instead of leading Doane completely away from Eve. Perhaps it was a question of the excitement that was gripping him at the thought of confronting Doane at last. It didn’t matter what the reason. The decision was made.
He started moving, masking his own footprints, laying the Eve trail. He ticked all the boxes that a skilled tracker would be looking for: the occasional stone disturbed and turned muddy side up, vegetation broken and twisted in direction of movement, dew droplets brushed from leaves. He pulled scraps of Eve’s clothing over the thorny branches, careful to leave only a few threads at a time. Mustn’t overdo it.
Come on, Doane. Eve was good for an amateur, but you have no idea how much better I am. You’ll get such an exciting surprise when you find me waiting for you instead of Eve.
Come and get me …
Gwinnett Hospital
“SHOULDN’T YOU BE BACK in bed?” Caleb’s brows rose as he strolled into Jane’s hospital room and saw her in a chair with the bed table lowered so that she could draw up over her lap. “I know that Trevor has full control of the nursing staff around here, but your orders are for bed rest.”
“I’m resting, that’s good enough.” She didn’t look up from the computer. “And Trevor does not have full control around here. He’s just persuasive.”
“Whatever.” He leaned against the bed. “Where is he, by the way? I left him to watch over you last night, and the sacrifice was for nothing?”
“He went to the Georgia-Pacific head forestry office in South Georgia to look at their maps and talk to a few of their forestry experts. He’s hoping to nudge a few memories.” She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands. The glare of the computer screen had been bothering her for the past hour. She knew she should take a break, but the sense of urgency wouldn’t permit it. “He said he knew a supervisor there.”
“Male or female?” Caleb murmured.
“It doesn’t matter. Stop it, Caleb.”
“I just wanted to judge the possibilities of success.” His gaze was narrowed on her face. “Are your eyes hurting?”
“Just tired.”
“Do you want me to make it go away?”
She looked at him. “What?”
“We all have our own talents. I can’t woo the birds from the trees like Trevor, but I bet I could make any ache in your body vanish … or begin.” He smiled. “I’m particularly interested in your response now that I’ve donated blood to you, and you have my blood coursing through your veins. Don’t you want to experiment? There are all kinds of stories in my family history about instances of cross—”
“Stories or myths?” Jane interrupted dryly.
“If we experimented, we’d know.” He reached forward and gently put his hand over her eyes. “But this doesn’t require any experimentation. This is easy.”
Warmth.
A healing rush of blood.
Revitalization.
Soothing rivers of sensation …
“Easy?” She took his hand away from her face. “I’ve no desire to experiment, easy or not, Caleb.”
“I know. You’re very stubborn. Everything has to be completely normal and reasonable.” He added lightly, “That’s why I had to sneak that one in. But your eyes are better now, aren’t they?”