Free Against the Wild by Kat Martin Page B

to Caleb, getting ready for the chicken salad sandwiches Winnie was serving for lunch. Lane was so engrossed in her conversation, she didn’t see him.
    â€œI heard them last night,” she was saying. “When I went out in the hall, there was no one there. But Dylan heard them, too.”
    Irritation slid through him. “I told you last night it was only the wind.”
    Lane turned as he walked toward the table. “I know that’s what you said. I’m not sure I believe it.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œBecause Caleb said the last owner heard footsteps, too. And there were other things. It was the reason he sold the lodge.”
    â€œJeff Fenton sold the lodge because his wife didn’t like living in Alaska.” Just like Mariah. He understood that only too well. He turned a hard look on his friend. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t encourage her. We’ve got enough problems already.”
    â€œSorry.”
    â€œI heard crying the other night,” Lane said. “It sounded like a child, but it wasn’t Emily. I checked.”
    Worry trickled through him. “You’re sure it wasn’t her?” But she rarely cried and not at all in the last few years.
    â€œIt wasn’t her, but she heard it, too.”
    He didn’t ask how Lane knew. She seemed to understand his daughter in a way he was no longer able. “Until we get the place sealed up, the wind is going to make strange noises. That’s all it is.”
    â€œI want to find out what happened here. People gossip about it. Once we know, we can deal with it.”
    â€œIf something happened, it was a long time ago and it doesn’t mean the lodge is haunted.”
    Silence fell over the table. None of them had ever said the word out loud.
    â€œFine,” he grumbled. “How do you suggest we find out what happened—assuming something actually did?”
    Lane gazed up at him excitedly. “We could start by looking at county records. We find out the names of the owners through the years, then look at newspaper accounts, see if there’s anything there.”
    â€œIt’s a borough,” he said darkly. “The borough of Waterside.”
    â€œWhen are you going there next?”
    â€œI don’t know for sure.”
    â€œHow about today?” She grinned. “It’s only fifteen minutes away.”
    He couldn’t stay mad at her. Not when she looked so damned cute. “Fine. If it isn’t raining, we’ll go this afternoon.”
    Just then, Emily walked into the kitchen and conversation came to a halt. Since Dylan was sick of hearing about ghosts and sounds in the night, he was damned glad for the moments of silence.

    It rained all day. A downpour that hammered against the windows and beat down on the heavy slate roof. Transfixed, Lane watched the deluge that churned the smooth water in the bay into whitecaps and left the sky a leaden gray.
    In L.A., the weather was always the same. Sunny, sunny, sunny. It was wonderful, but occasionally boring. For a while, she stood in the great hall staring out the windows, watching the shifting clouds, the heavy mist hanging over the ocean, the endless buckets of rain.
    Emily came in and stood beside her for a while, neither of them speaking, just watching the storm.
    â€œIt’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Lane finally said, not expecting an answer. She was surprised when Emily reached over and took hold of her hand.
    They stood like that for another few minutes before, by unspoken agreement, they wandered back to what they’d been doing, Emily returning to her studies with Mrs. Henry while Lane went back to the office to check on her e-mail.
    Being able to connect on the Internet had made working at the lodge far easier than she had expected. She was able to stay in touch with her friend and partner, Haley Brodie, and keep an eye on Modern Design.
    Having been best friends in college at the