Page 77 of The Other Lady Vanishes

She was feeling better now, she concluded. Not exactly normal—she was no longer sure how normal felt—but she was definitely calmer and more clearheaded.

The chicken stew had been hot and filling. The corn bread had been perfect—a lovely golden brown with a crispy crust on the bottom and the sides, courtesy of the cast-iron skillet in which it had been baked. There was a fire going in the brick fireplace. She and Jake were relaxing in a couple of wooden rocking chairs positioned in front of the hearth. The light from the lantern on the small table cast a warm glow over the one-room cabin.

Best of all she was not alone.

It occurred to her that she should not allow herself to get too comfortable with Jake’s companionship. He would not stick around forever. Nevertheless, she was sure that he would remain at her side until theyfigured out what in the world was going on. He did not doubt her story, and for now that was the most important thing. They were partners, at least for a while, bound together by a web of murder, drugs, and blackmail.

Jake lounged back in his rocker and propped his feet on a hassock. He contemplated the flames in the fireplace.

“Best guess,” he said, “is that the bastard ended up doing what we were planning to do if the fog got heavier—pulled off the highway and is now sleeping in his car. It will be interesting to see what he does when he finds out that we’re still alive.”

“Maybe he’ll panic and run,” Adelaide said.

“I think we have to assume that he’ll head for Burning Cove. That seems to be the center of this spider’s web.”

Adelaide tightened her grip on the arms of her rocking chair. “Because I’m there?”

“Yes.” Jake met her eyes. “And because I’m there, too.”

“Partners,” she said.

“Yes.”

The single word was diamond hard.

A short time later Jake turned down the lantern and banked the fire. He cracked one window partially open for ventilation and then he looked at the two narrow cots.

“Which one do you want?” he asked.

The cots were identical, as far as she could tell. There was one positioned against the wall on each side of the cabin.

“The one on the left,” she said.

She waited for him to suggest that they hang a couple of blankets between the cots for privacy purposes.

“It’s all yours,” he said.

He unfastened his shirt and draped it over the back of one of the chairs. His snug-fitting undershirt revealed the strong line of his shoulders and back. He must have sensed that she was staring because he gave her an inquiring look.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

She flushed and quickly averted her gaze.

“No, of course not,” she said.

She winced. Her voice sounded strained and unnaturally high.

It wasn’t the first time she had seen him shirtless, she reminded herself. She wondered if he would strip off the undershirt, as well. She could not decide if she was relieved or disappointed when he left the garment firmly tucked into the waistband of his trousers.

He picked up the wool blanket at the foot of his cot and unfolded it with a short snap.

“Don’t hesitate to wake me if you hear or see anything that makes you uneasy,” he said.

“I won’t,” she croaked.

He settled down on his side, politely turning his face to the wall to give her some privacy.

She perched on the edge of her cot and contemplated the outline of his lean, nicely muscled body under the blanket for a moment.

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