Free The Summer Hideaway by Susan Wiggs Page A

this place. Damn, it’s nice here.”
    “I woke up this morning thinking I landed in the middle of a…” She paused. He’d think she’d lost it if she mentioned the enchanted world. “Special place.” Far in the distance, a floatplane landed, skimming like a dragonfly across the surface of the lake.
    “Coming from where I do,” he said, “I tend to forget there are places like this in the world.”
    A retired federal marshal with a troubled past, he lived alone in a tattered but quiet neighborhood of Newark. He was on disability and had dedicated his life to looking after people like Claire—witnesses who were hiding or running from something too big to cope with on their own. He had been an expert in identity reassignment and redocumentation, and when she’d gone to him in desperation, he’d given her a comprehensive security suite. This included a name borrowed from a deceased person, a new personal history and legitimate documentation. All new paper on her was official—birth certificate, driver’s license, social security card. Thanks to Mel, she had been reborn and given a chance at a new life.
    Although she’d known him for years, she didn’t really know him. He was absolutely committed to helping people caught in the shadow world of anonymity. It was probably what made him tick. She had once asked him why he bothered with people like her. He said he’d been in charge of protecting a family of witnesses, and they’d all been killed.
    Claire had stopped asking after that. She didn’t want to know more. If she got too close to him, he’d be in danger from the same monster who had sent her into hiding.
    “Are you staying at the resort?” she asked.
    “Right. Do you know what this place charges per night?” He shook his head. “I got a day use pass.”
    “So where are you staying?”
    “There’s a conservation department campground not far from here. It’s called Woodland Valley.”
    She frowned. “You’re camping?”
    “I’m camping.”
    “Like, in a tent, with a sleeping bag?”
    “Yeah, like that.”
    She tried to picture him in the tent staked out in the wilderness. “So, um, how is that working out for you?”
    “I didn’t come all this way to get laughed at.”
    She caught a note of apprehension in his tone. “What?”
    “I got a bit of news. You’re not going to like it.”
    She braced herself. “Just tell me.”
    “The Jordans applied to be foster parents once again.”
    Despite the heat of the day, she felt a curdled chill that took her breath away. Her throat went dry; she had to swallow several times before she could bring herself to speak. “For God’s sake, two murders and a third kid missing, all of which happened on their watch—that doesn’t stand in their way?” she demanded. “No way will Social Services approve them.”
    Mel was quiet. Too quiet, for too long.
    “Right?” she demanded.
    He stared out at the water. “I talked to about a half-dozen people at Social Services.”
    “And?”
    “Apparently they dismissed me as a crackpot.”
    “That was risky,” she said, “you pointing the finger at Vance Jordan. I’m the one who needs to blow the whistle on him, not you.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized the decision was already made. It had been percolating for a long time, the need to end her self-exile. Coming to a place like this had only firmed her resolve. “It’s time, Mel. Past time. I can’t do this anymore. I’m done waiting.”
    “Claire—Clarissa. He’s got too many friends all along the chain of command, and the ones who aren’t his friends are scared of him. Exposing yourself now won’t accomplish anything.”
    There was a good chance he was right, but the thought of Jordan with another foster child made her stomach churn. “I’ll figure out something,” she said. “On my own.”
    “You want to talk about risk—”
    “That’s why I want you to stay out of it. Look, I’m doing this for myself,