Green Fire (21 page)

"Sometimes I think you have a one-track mind." She followed him to the Jeep and climbed in beside him.

"Two tracks," he corrected with a grin as he turned the key in the Jeep's ignition.

"Food and sex?"

"I like to keep life simple."

He guided the Jeep out onto the narrow road that led toward the town of Reed Lake. Rani liked his driving. He brought to it the same competent, relaxed skill he brought to his gardening. She studied him out of the corner of her eye as he maneuvered the vehicle along the twisting, wind-ing road. There were so many things she still didn't know about the man. How was it possible that he had so easily captured her heart when she had guarded it so carefully for so long?

"What are you thinking?" Flint demanded, shifting gears for a curve.

Rani moved restlessly in the seat and glanced out the window. "That it looks as though it's going to rain this evening." It was only a small lie, after all. And it did look as though a storm were brewing. The sky had been gray and overcast all day. Now the clouds seemed heavier, and the wind was definitely chilly. She should have brought along a jacket.

Flint found a space in front of the Reed Lake Post Office and followed Rani inside. Mrs. Hobson looked at both of them with interest as she handed over Rani's small stack of mail.

"Not much today, I'm afraid. How are things going out at the Anderson place?" the older woman inquired cheerfully. She looked from one to the other, obviously trying to determine just what was happening at the Anderson place.

"Fine, thank you." Rani flipped through the letters, ignoring the woman's curiosity. Mrs. Hobson wasn't going to rest until she had established the facts of the situation. Let her guess, Rani thought. It'll give her something to do. She wondered if she and Flint were providing the chief source of entertainment and speculation for the folks of Reed Lake these days. There wasn't all that much to do in the town.

Mrs. Hobson was persistent, however. She smiled brightly up at Flint. "That's a nice ring, Rani has. Did you give it to her?"

"No." Flint's total lack of interest was barely concealed behind a semblance of politeness. "It's a family ring."

"Oh, I see." Mrs. Hobson's obvious satisfaction made Rani smile. The woman had been fishing to find out just how scandalous the situation was at the Anderson place. Now she knew the ring was not a symbol of an engagement. That would make whatever was going on that much more interesting. "It's a lovely stone," Mrs. Hobson observed.

"Thank you." Rani picked up her mail.

"Not real, is it? I mean, an emerald that large… ?"

Rani chuckled. "No, it's not real. Nicely cut glass."

Mrs. Hobson frowned thoughtfully, her interest switching from gossip to something of a more professional nature. "Glass? Mind if I take a closer look? I wouldn't have guessed it was glass. Perhaps another sort of green gem. There are plenty of green-colored stones besides emeralds, you know. Few of them have such good color, though."

Rani shrugged and slipped the ring off her finger. She handed it over the counter. Mrs. Hobson whipped out the jeweler's loupe, which she kept next to her collection of quartz. She popped it onto her glasses over her right eye and peered down at the object in her hand. "Hmmm."

"What do you think, Mrs. Hobson?" Rani asked indulgently.

There was a long silence while Mrs. Hobson studied the ring. At last she looked up, frowning in concentration. "You're quite sure this isn't an emerald?"

Rani's pulse suddenly picked up speed. Behind her she could feel Flint's almost palpable alertness. "I was told it was paste."

"Well, I'm no expert," Mrs. Hobson said, "but I can tell you for certain this isn't glass."

"Perhaps another sort of green stone?" Rani suggested carefully.

"If I had to take a bet," Mrs Hobson said casually, "I'd say it was a genuine emerald."

Rani realized she had forgotten to breathe for a few seconds. Flint was silent. Slowly Rani extended her hand and took back the ring. "Good heavens, Mrs. Hobson. If you really think there's a possibility it's genuine, perhaps I'd better get it reappraised."

"Wouldn't hurt. Unless you're quite sure of the facts," Mrs. Hobson said with a quick nod.

"No, I'm not absolutely positive of the facts. As Flint said, it's a family ring and everyone just assumed it was fake."

"I could be wrong, of course," Mrs. Hobson remarked. "After all, my specialty is quartz. But it might be a good idea to have a real jeweler take a look at it."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hobson. I believe I'll do that." Rani turned blindly and nearly collided with Flint. He reached out to steady her, his gaze intent.

"We still have to stop by the grocery store," he reminded her. "Good-bye, Mrs. Hobson." He guided Rani outside where the smell of rain was now in the ah. "Don't look so shocked," he drawled. "If the ring is real, it would explain a lot of things."

"It doesn't explain why Charles Dewhurst told me it was paste."

"No," Flint said thoughtfully. "It doesn't."

They stopped at the grocery store to allow Rani to collect frozen ravioli and the makings for a cheese sauce. It was starting to sprinkle by the time they returned to the Jeep. Rani sat on the passenger side, studying the ring on her hand.

"I don't see any green fire," she complained.

"What green fire?" Flint swung the Jeep back onto the road.

"Dewhurst said that in a true emerald the inner light was quite striking. He said it was like looking into green fire."

"Maybe a gem expert sees things in stones the rest of us don't," Flint suggested dryly. "Or maybe he lied."

"Yes. Maybe he lied." Rani turned her head. "But why would he do that, Flint?"

"I don't know."

"If he'd been after the emerald he could have stolen it when I gave the ring to him to be valued."

"How? As soon as you discovered the loss you would have known exactly who'd stolen it. How long did he have Ambrose's collection?"

"Not long. Just for one afternoon."

Flint thought about it. "He wouldn't have had time to duplicate the emerald. No, he didn't have any choice except to give the ring back to you."

"Why tell me it was a fake?" she demanded. Then she came up with an answer to her own question. "Unless he didn't want me to think it was valuable. That way if I should happen to 'lose' it, I wouldn't make too big a fuss."

"Yeah, An interesting notion."

"Flint, I've got news for you. I don't find it interesting at all. I find it scary."

"You're not the only one," he responded grimly as he swung the Jeep around a curve.

"What do we do now?" Rani asked.

"I think we'd better see about getting the police involved. I'm not sure what they can do. There still isn't much to go on, but maybe they'll have some ideas. We're sure as hell going to get that ring off your hand and into a safe-deposit box."

The rain was beginning to fall in earnest by the time Flint pulled the Jeep into the driveway of the front cottage. "Wait here until I get the front door open or you'll get soaked waiting on the porch," he said, reaching into the back seat for one of the bags of groceries. "I've got to do something about that leaking porch roof."

Hoisting the bag in one hand, Flint hurried up the steps of the porch, flipped through the keys on his chain and shoved the appropriate one into the lock.

He stopped dead on the threshold, realizing that the key had found no resistance. The door was already unlocked.

The next thing he noticed was that Zipp wasn't waiting impatiently on the other side of the door. The third thing he noticed was the odd silence in the cottage. Everything felt wrong.

"Stay where you are, Rani," he called very casually. "I'll bring an umbrella."

She had one leg out of the Jeep and was waiting with a grocery bag in her arms to make the dash for the house. "It's all right, Flint, I don't mind getting a little wet."

"I said, stay there." This time he put enough command into the words to make her blink. Setting the bag down on the porch, he loped down the short flight of steps and over to the Jeep. When he grabbed her arm, she looked up at him in astonishment. She was opening her mouth to protest the high handed action, but he already had her out of the Jeep.

"Flint, the groceries!" The bag fell from her arm, falling onto the wet, graveled drive. A can of tuna fish rolled under the wheel of the Jeep. "What in the world? What do you think you're doing?"

Flint ignored the confused demands. He was already running, dragging her along with him into the shelter of the surrounding woods. "Don't argue. Just move, Rani."

He sent up a silent prayer of thanks when she closed her mouth and obeyed. Flint didn't slow until they were into a stand of old fir. Huge branches cascaded to the ground like the skirts of formal ball gowns. He sought temporary ref-uge behind one grand dame. Rani was panting as he brought her to a halt. She looked questioningly up at him, her eyes wide with a silent demand for answers. The rain was pelting down heavily. Both of them were already quite wet. There was no sound from the direction of the cottage.

"Zipp didn't come to the door," Flint said starkly.

"So what? He often doesn't come to the door when there are strangers around—" She broke off, looking shaken as the full implications came home to her, "Oh, my God. I see what you mean. But, Flint, he might be outside or something."

"In this rain? You know cats and rain. Besides, I realized when I put the key in the lock that the door was already open."

"I remember you locking it," she whispered. "Do you think someone's been inside the cottage?"

"I think there's a possibility that someone has not only searched it, but that he's still in there. That's why Zipp is in hiding somewhere."

She stiffened under his hand. "I've heard you're not supposed to walk in on burglars. They tend to panic and get violent. But, Flint, by now whoever's in there must know we're gone. Why hasn't he come out? Where's his car? Maybe he's already left."

"I have a feeling he's still in there." Flint could barely see the corner of the porch when he peered through the branches of the old fir. "Stay here, Rani. I'm going back to have a look."

"The hell you are," she retorted. "We're both getting out of here."

He felt a stab of amusement at the sharpness of her tone. "You're cute when you're giving orders. I like to think it's because you care."

"Flint, I'm not joking. We have to get out of here and get the sheriff if you think there's a chance someone's in the house."

"I want to make a try for something that, like an idiot, I left behind."

"What? The groceries? Don't be ridiculous, Flint."

"Not the groceries. The gun. It's in the Jeep."

"Oh, my God. Flint, I don't think that's a good idea."

He glanced at her, debating how much to tell her. There wasn't time to go into details, and if he told her what he suspected she would only be more alarmed than she already was. How could he explain that he didn't think whoever was in the cottage would allow them to casually walk back to Reed Lake to get help?

"I'll be right back, Rani. Don't move."

She tightened her lips but said nothing. Flint patted her hand a little awkwardly and then slipped out from the cover of the huge fir. Hugging the shelter of the trees, he approached the house from an oblique angle. He tried to avoid coming into full view of anyone who might have been watching from a window.

But the last few yards between himself and the Jeep were devoid of any cover. He had to choose between making a dash for the driver's side or giving up the project altogether. Silently Flint crouched close to the ground, studying the quiet house and wondering if he was the victim of an overactive imagination. There was no movement from within. It was the unnatural stillness that bothered him the most. It was a waiting kind of stillness.

A hunter's stillness.

Flint made his decision. He ran for the Jeep, heading for the cover of the driver's side. The rifle shot cracked overhead just as he broke cover. Whirling in midair, Flint threw himself back into the trees, hitting the ground hard.

So much for the heroic dash to the Jeep. There was no way he could cross that open ground without getting shot. Accepting the inevitable, he picked himself up and ran back to where he had left Rani. Behind him he thought he heard the front door of the cottage open.

Flint saw a splash of color before he saw Rani and groaned silently as he realized her bright coral shirt was as vivid as a beacon. She was waiting with anxious eyes as he came through the low-hanging branches. He paused only long enough to grab her arm and start running again.

Rani felt his fingers close around her upper arm and staggered awkwardly to her feet. "No gun?"

"No gun."

"I heard that rifle shot. It wasn't just a hunter's shot, was it?"

"It was a hunter, all right, but not the usual kind. Get that shirt off, Rani."

She glanced down at herself. "But, Flint…"

"You can see it for yards. Don't you have any neutral colors in your wardrobe?
⁵
'

"No."

"Get it off."

She fumbled frantically with the buttons as she ran. "Where are we going? The road?"

"Too obvious. If there was more traffic we might stand a chance of getting someone's attention, but I haven't heard a single car go by since we got back here. Let me have the shirt."

Mutely she tugged it off, vividly conscious of the lacy scrap of her bra. The rain was cold as it hit her bare skin. Flint took the bright shirt from her hand just as they topped a small rise and started down toward a tiny meadow filled with ancient, twisted manzanita shrubs.

They slowed, sticking to the edge of the meadow as they circled it. On the far side Flint stopped.

"What now?" Rani asked, glancing anxiously back through the woods. She could see nothing. Between the heavy rain and the thick stands of fir and pine, visibility was severely impaired. One could be grateful. "Do you think he's following us?"

"It's what I would do if I were in his shoes." Flint was arranging the coral shirt in the branches of a fir.