Free A Dark Lure by Loreth Anne White Page B

. . . I’m okay. Just give me a minute.”
    Do not let the flashbacks back in. You cannot allow them to take over again . . .
    Blood flowed back into her head. She felt her cheeks warm. Slowly, she put her head upright and forced a smile. “I’m sorry about that. I must be coming down with a bug or something. Felt dizzy for a minute.”
    “Can I get you a glass of water? Some juice?” Concern filled his dark narrow eyes.
    “No. Thanks. I just wanted to say thank you for those blueberries you left outside my door this morning.”
    Jason glanced at the basket of berries on the table. “I didn’t leave those.”
    Something inside her went still.
    “Maybe Nella did?” Her voice came out tight.
    “I don’t know.” His brow furrowed deeper as he regarded her. “Is it important? I can try and find her and ask—she’s probably out feeding the chickens or watching Brannigan with the horses.”
    “Oh, no thanks.” She forced a light laugh that didn’t come out so light.
    “I did bring up a couple of trays from Clinton, so she might have.”
    “Tell her I said thanks, will you? I’ll just grab a coffee and an apple for Spirit and get out of your hair.”
    Feeling Jason’s eyes on her, she poured another big mug of coffee from the pot on the counter, snagged an apple from the bowl on the table, and made her way to the office off the guest living room.
    Ace was already in the office, sleeping in his basket in a puddle of yellow sunshine. She checked e-mail for any new reservations that might have come via the website. There were none.
    Apart from the late drop-ins, this was likely the end of the guests for the season.
    She listened to voice mail and scanned the dining reservations book to see how many would be coming for meals over the weekend.
    Before heading out, she checked the daily weather report. Surprise rippled through her. There was a big storm in the short-term forecast. Precipitation was expected in the form of snow, which could start falling by Monday afternoon. Up to two feet was predicted. It looked as though winter would be arriving early this year, right on the back of the long weekend. She’d have to warn guests. There was no plow service out here—a big dump would render the dirt roads impassable. They could be cut off for days.
    Grabbing the campsite reservations book, credit card processor, and the cash pouch from the safe, she whistled for Ace and headed out the door. She helped Ace up into the cab and drove over to the stables where Brannigan, the groom, routinely chopped, bundled, and stacked wood for the campsite.
    After checking on Spirit and feeding her the apple, Olivia do nned her gloves, dropped the tailgate, and started tossing wood bundles into the bed of her truck. Working up a sweat, she wiped her brow with the back of her sleeve. This was good. She felt more solid already. The sun was climbing and temperatures warming fast. Whatever had assailed her earlier this morning—it was over. Done.
    When she arrived at the campground she saw there were new occupants in two of the sites. The first site had a gray Ford truck parked across the entrance. Olivia left Ace in her vehicle, rounded the Ford truck, and headed down a small path to where a camper, which had been jacked off the truck, was positioned closer to the shore. Next to the camper a generator chugged away, powering a small freezer. There was no one here. She was about to go back up to the entrance and jot down the Ford’s plate number when she caught sight of blood streaking down the side of the freezer. She froze.
    A buzzing started in her ears.
    Blackness mushroomed through her mind, swallowing her vision down to tiny pinpricks of light. And suddenly she could smell him . He was behind her, his hot breath whispering against her cheek, into her ear.
    Gamos , Sarah. It’s a marriage . . . we are conjoined . . .
    Olivia swung around, heart jackhammering.
    The lodgepole pines towered above. Branches black against the