Retribution

She shook her head, sending frizzy blond corkscrew curls dancing around a chubby face that was always wreathed in smiles. “I’ve only been here a couple of months.”

“What brought you here?” He probed his shoulder, feeling as if he’d just come through a war.

“Funny story. I had no idea of leaving the big city. But a friend of mine from University Hospital opened her new clinic and I drove up for the open house, without realizing that she had space to lease. I took one look at this quaint little place and decided I had to give small-town living a try. Within two months I’d given up my apartment in Lansing, found a place to live just a block away from here, overlooking the water and signed a lease on this suite.”

“Can you make a living here?”

She laughed. “I’ll say. Not only does my friend give me plenty of referrals, but my old friends at University Hospital keep sending me more than I can handle.” Marcella shook her head. “Strange how these things happen. I’m working more hours than ever, and yet I’m letting go of all the stress I once had working in a big city. I recently went through a painful divorce, vowed I’d never put myself through the marriage game again, and now I’m engaged to the pharmacist who works in suite Twelve-A. Go figure. And all because of my friendship with Dr. Emily Brennan-Cooper.”

Adam’s hand paused in the act of turning the door handle. “Brennan-Cooper? Does she have a sister named Sidney?”

“Yeah. The artist. You know her?”

“We met. She mentioned a sister who owned a gift shop. I didn’t realize there were more.”

“I can see that you’re not spending enough time in town. Everywhere you turn, you’ll find a Brennan. Let’s see.” She thought a minute. “Far as I know, she has a mother, three sisters, prominent grandparents. Her grandmother was a teacher here for thirty or forty years. Her grandfather is retired Judge Frank Brennan. Her father was the town doctor before he died, and now my pal Emily has stepped in and taken over his practice. Besides which, the pretty doc is married to Jason Cooper.”

“The bestselling author?”

“Yep.” Marcella’s smile grew. “Her mother owns her own real-estate firm and handles most of the mansions over on Historic Scenic Drive. Her sister Hannah owns Hannah’s Garden and Landscape, and her sister Courtney is the one who owns Treasures, a fancy gift shop in town.” She paused a beat, as though considering how to ask a delicate question, before deciding to simply plow ahead. “How did you happen to settle on Devil’s Cove?”

He merely shrugged. “One place is as good as another when it’s just a temporary port, Marcella. Thanks.” He winced as he touched his shoulder. “I think.”

She was staring after him with a puzzled grin as he pulled the door shut. He was certainly living up to his reputation as the town’s new mystery man. Though he’d managed to find out all about her within a minute or so, she knew no more about him now than when he’d arrived for his first session.

She gave a toss of her curls. “Sooner or later I’ll find out about you, Adam Morgan.”

She loved a good mystery.

Adam handed his prescription refill to the girl behind the counter. He was mulling over the shelves of pain relievers, wondering if he needed something for sleep, when he caught the sudden flash of red hair peddling past his line of vision.

Curious, he moved to the window of the drugstore and watched as Sidney propped her bicycle against the wall of the building across the street and walked inside.

He couldn’t help admiring the view of her backside in slim, snug denims before she disappeared through the doorway.

A short time later, noting which way Sidney was going, he tucked his prescription into his pocket and headed in the opposite direction, toward The Pier, which had come highly recommended.

If he felt a twinge of guilt at his deliberate attempt to ignore her, he pushed it aside. After all, it was for her own good.

“Sidney.” Her grandmother stood framed in the doorway as Sidney lowered the kickstand of her bike and raced up the front steps of the Willows.

“Hi, Bert.” Sidney gave her grandmother a warm hug before stepping past her. “Mmm. Something smells wonderful.”

“Trudy is baking pies.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“No special reason. She just said she always feels like baking pies in the fall.”

“I’m sure Poppie will be happy to eat them.”

The older woman winced. “That’s what I’m afraid of. Which is why you’ll have to take a few home with you.”

“I’ll take one. That’s all the room I can manage with my bike’s basket.”

“If I had my way you’d take all of them.”

They walked arm in arm along the cool tiled hallway. When they stepped into the cozy, sun-drenched kitchen, Sidney was surprised to see her sisters Hannah and Emily at the table, enjoying slices of freshly baked pie and steaming cups of tea.

“I didn’t know you’d be here.” With a laugh Sidney danced across the floor to hug each of her sisters. “Where’s Courtney?”

“At her shop. She said she’d be by later to enjoy some of Trudy’s pie.”

The housekeeper looked up from the stove. Her white hair, damp from the heat of the oven, was curled like cotton balls around a face that crinkled into a smile at the sight of another of her girls. “Don’t you look fresh.” She gave Sidney an approving glance before accepting a kiss on the cheek. “Living out in the wilderness seems to agree with you.”

“It’s not exactly the wilderness, Trudy.” Sidney accepted a slice of pie on a crystal plate and settled herself at the table beside her grandmother. “I’ve got electricity, heat, light and even the Internet. What more could a girl ask?”

“Neighbors,” the housekeeper said in her trademark raspy voice. “Your family would feel a whole lot better if you could count on someone nearby in times of trouble.”

Sidney glanced around the table. “It just so happens I do have a neighbor.”

Hannah’s head came up. “The mystery man in the lighthouse?”

Sidney seemed puzzled. “You’ve heard of him?”

“Only that someone’s living there. Have you actually met him?”

At Sidney’s quick nod, her two sisters looked intrigued.

Hannah’s pie was forgotten. “What’s his name?”

“Adam Morgan.”

Emily took a sip of tea. “What does he look like?”

Sidney shrugged. “Tall. Rugged. It’s hard to tell what he’d look like without that beard.”

Hannah grinned. “He has a beard?”

“He does. And hair that really needs a trim. It brushes his collar.”

“Dark hair or light?” Hannah demanded.

“Dark. Like his eyes.” Sidney’s voice lowered. “His eyes are…I don’t know. Penetrating, I guess. He has a way of looking at me that makes me uncomfortable.”

“In what way?” Alarmed, Trudy picked up a wooden spoon and held it in a threatening gesture.

“Not in a bad way, Trudy. He just seems intense. As though trying to read my mind while guarding his own.”

“A mystery man.” Hannah sighed. “There’s nothing quite like an air of mystery to get a girl’s interest.”

“I’m not interested.” Sidney looked around the table at the sly grins being exchanged between her sisters. “He’s abrupt and distant, and besides, I’ve only seen him once, and that was more than a week ago.”

“What was more than a week ago?” At the booming voice of her grandfather, Sidney pushed away from the table.

“Poppie.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on his cheek. “Oh, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, my darling. When are you going to move back home?”

“Sorry. I’ve left you for good. I’m having way too much fun in my own place.”

He chose to ignore that. “I see Bert and Trudy conspired to have you join your sisters in eating as much pie as possible, in order to save me from indulging in too many calories.”

“Guilty.” Sidney joined in the laughter.

“Now tell me what happened more than a week ago?”

Before Sidney could answer, Hannah said, “She met the mystery man who’s living in the lighthouse.”

“And is he a werewolf, as some in town have claimed?”

At Sidney’s puzzled look he threw back his head and roared. “You can’t believe all the rumors floating around about the man. That he only comes out after dark. That he’s in the Federal Witness Protection Plan, and is starting a new life. That he’s a former CIA agent hoping to write a book. So…” The Judge helped himself to a bite of Sidney’s pie before releasing the fork when he caught a threatening look from his wife. “What do you know about the man?”

“His name is Adam Morgan. He’s a photographer with World News Network, and he’s living in the lighthouse while he assembles some photographs for the historical society’s almanac.”

Hannah turned to their grandmother. “You’re a member of the historical society, Bert. Why didn’t you tell us?”

The older woman shrugged. “It was all handled very discreetly. We were told only that the man in question came highly recommended by his employer, that he won a Pulitzer for one of his war photographs…”

“He won a Pulitzer?” Sidney’s eyes went wide. “Are you sure?”

Bert nodded. “As I said, he came highly recommended. We wouldn’t allow just anyone to live in one of our historic treasures.”

“A prize-winning photographer.” The Judge poured himself a cup of tea. “Living practically next door to our Sidney.” He sipped and glanced around the table with that impish grin they had all come to recognize. “Now, isn’t that interesting?”

Sidney could feel her cheeks coloring as she deposited her plate and cup in the dishwasher. “I need to get back before dark.”

“I could drive you,” Emily offered. “I have a couple of evening appointments at the clinic.”

“It’s too far out of your way. I can manage.”

As Sidney started toward the door, Trudy stopped her with a pie, neatly wrapped in foil.

“Thanks, Trudy.” She kissed the housekeeper’s cheek, then circled the table kissing her family goodbye. “See you at Sunday brunch.”

Hannah’s eyes twinkled with teasing laughter. “If you happen to run into that mystery man, you could always entice him into your cabin with Trudy’s pie.”

While the others laughed, the Judge huffed out a breath. “As if any of the Brennan women need pie to snag a man’s interest.”

“Good one, Poppie. I can always count on you to stand up for me.” Laughing along with the others, Sidney blew her grandfather a kiss before walking out the door.

Chapter 3

Sidney waved at old friends and neighbors as she pedaled her bike through the dusk-shadowed streets of town. Once she’d left Devil’s Cove behind, she found herself deep in thought over what little she’d learned about Adam Morgan.

Her mystery man wasn’t just a photojournalist, but an award-winning one, as well. Not that she was too surprised. There was an intensity about him that suggested that whatever he attempted, he would do well.

She’d always admired that in a man. Hadn’t it been what had first attracted her to Curt? She’d fallen in love with his work before ever meeting him.

It pleased her to know that she could think of Curt now without tears. At first, every time she spoke his name, or saw a flash of his face in her memory, she’d been battered by grief. Now, each year that passed made the loss more tolerable. She would always love him. He’d been her first love, and the bond between them had been so special, so tender, she knew nothing would ever erase those happy memories from her mind. But she’d moved on. It had helped to come back to Devil’s Cove. She’d needed family and friends around her, and the comfort of familiar childhood haunts. It had helped, too, to carve out her own space. Her own life, apart from Curt’s. Apart even from that of her own very talented, very driven family.

There had been a few men since Curt, but none who merited more than a passing interest. She knew her family watched and waited, clucking like hens over the fact that she was still alone, but the fact was she liked her life as it was. She had her career. She had Picasso and Toulouse for company. And she had her dreams. Maybe that wasn’t enough for some, but it was certainly enough for her. For now.

At a gust of icy wind Sidney ducked her head and pulled up the collar of her jacket. Legs pumping, she began to pedal faster, suddenly eager for the warmth of her cabin. She should have started home sooner, before the sun had disappeared behind the clouds, leaving the gathering darkness and its attendant chill nipping at her heels like the hounds of winter.

Adam cranked up the volume on Bruce Springsteen and turned the Jeep off the highway and onto the dirt road that snaked through the forest. The Lake Michigan perch and the cheesecake at The Pier were as good as promised, and he was feeling mellow, despite the curious stares he’d had to endure from the locals while he ate.

That was the trouble with a small town, he thought. Every new face was a source of speculation. Still, it could work to his advantage, as well. Another new face would spark just as much interest, and would have the authorities moving quickly to investigate. The team assigned to the car bombing was already on high alert to his new location, and had promised to move in at the first sign that security had been breached.

To keep his visits into town to a minimum, he’d loaded up with supplies from the grocery store. His backseat was piled high with bags and boxes. He’d stocked up on film, as well, and was determined to get a darkroom equipped as quickly as possible. That would cut down on his visits to Devil’s Cove even more.

He was actually looking forward to living the life of a recluse for the winter. It would be a new experience for him. The very nature of his business made it necessary to move easily in crowds of people. One of the first things he’d mastered was the ability to blend in. Whether he was photographing soldiers at war, children in a jungle clearing, or women haggling at an open-air market, he made certain that no one took any notice of him. That was what gave him the opportunity to move freely among strangers, snapping pictures without making his subjects appear self-conscious. No matter where he was, no matter the faces of those around him, Adam had the uncanny ability to become one of them.

He was thinking about the children he’d met at an orphanage in Afghanistan as he rounded a curve in the road. For an instant there was a flash of color that barely registered in his brain as he hit the brakes with such force, the Jeep fishtailed and turned a full circle. The dirt spewing from his wheels rose up in a cloud of dust that obliterated everything. Before the vehicle had even come to a stop he hit the door and scrambled out, struggling to see through the curtain of dust to where Sidney was lying in a tangle of bike and arms and legs.

Nerves had him swearing viciously as he dropped to his knees. “Don’t move. Don’t you even think of moving. Where does it hurt?” His voice was gruff with self-loathing. “Sorry. I was going too fast. I never even saw you.”

“I’m…okay.” Sidney started to sit up and was startled when his hands closed roughly over her upper arms.

“I told you not to move.” His face was thrust nose-to-nose with hers. His hot breath stung her cheek. “Something could be broken.”

“I think I’d know if I’d broken any bones.” She tried to evade his touch, gingerly lifting a hand to her head. “I’m just a bit dizzy.”

“Hold still. It might be a concussion.”

She shook her head and waited until his face came into sharper focus. “I think I just had the wind knocked out of me.”

She saw him take in a long, deep breath. All the while his eyes never left hers. “You’re sure? You’re not bleeding? Nothing’s broken?”

“Not as far as I can tell.”

“Think you can stand?”

She nodded and he wrapped his arms around her, helping her gently to her feet. In that instant she felt a rush of heat so intense, she could do nothing more than stand quietly, sucking in several deep breaths.

“Any dizziness?”

“I’m…” She struggled to find her voice. “I’m fine.”

“I’m driving you home.”

She started to turn back. “My bike…”

“I’ll put it in the back of my Jeep.” He walked with her to his car and held the passenger door open, practically lifting her off her feet until she was settled inside.

After stowing her bike in the back, he climbed into the driver’s side.

He turned to study her and she felt again that quick sizzle of heat along her spine. “You okay?”

She nodded, afraid to trust her voice.

They drove the entire distance in silence. When he pulled up to her cabin, he turned off the ignition and turned to her. “I’m really sorry about this.”

“No harm done.”

“You may think so now. By tomorrow you’ll be cussing me out. A spill that hard, I doubt you’ll get away without a few cuts and scratches.”

She managed a weak smile. “Nothing I won’t survive.”

He walked around and held the door open, then eased her out of the Jeep and put an arm around her shoulders as she walked toward the cabin. This time, though she steeled herself against feeling anything at his touch, she couldn’t deny the reaction. Despite the cold she was sweating.

The minute she unlocked the door, Picasso and Toulouse raced out and began dancing around her feet.

“They act like they just got set free from prison.”

She managed a quick laugh. “That’s probably what they’re thinking. They whine every time they’re left alone.”

Adam paused by the door. “Where do you store your bike?”

“In the shed in back.” She handed him her keys.

He returned to the Jeep and lifted her bike out, examining it for damage before heading toward the shed. Minutes later he found her kneeling in front of the fireplace, struggling to coax a fire on the hearth.

Crossing the room he handed her the keys. “Your bike doesn’t seem any the worse for wear. But if you should find any damage, I’d like to pay for it.”

She looked up at him, and for the first time he noticed the bruise beginning to bloom on her cheek.

He swore again, causing her to arch an eyebrow in surprise. “Sorry.” He put his hands under her elbows and nearly lifted her off her feet as he propelled her toward an overstuffed chair. “Sit here. I’ll see to the fire.”

“What’s wrong?”

He touched a finger to the spot. Just a touch, but he saw her wince in pain. “You didn’t get as lucky as you’d hoped. That’s a nasty bruise.”

She lifted her hand and probed. “I don’t remember hitting the ground. But I may have bumped the handlebars. Or maybe a rock on the ground.”

“Whatever you hit, if it moves up just a little, you’re going to have a dandy shiner by morning.” Feeling another round of guilt, he tended to the fire. When it was blazing, he made his way to the kitchen and put the kettle on the stove.

A short time later he handed her a cup of tea. “Drink this.”

“Thanks.” She sipped. “Did you make one for yourself?”

“I don’t deserve one.” Besides, what he really wanted right about now was a good stiff drink. “Got any whiskey?”

“Sorry, no. But there’s some wine in the cupboard.” Seeing him hesitate, she added, “If you’d like to open the bottle, I’ll have some.”

“Right.” He rummaged around and found the wine and a corkscrew, and filled two glasses.

After handing her one, he perched on the edge of the hearth and studied her pale face. “You sure you’re all right?”

She nodded. “I’m fine. Really.” She paused. “Did you happen to find a pumpkin pie in the basket of my bike?”

He shook his head. “The basket was empty.”

She sighed. “I guess that means the raccoons will feast on Trudy’s pumpkin pie tonight.”

He started to stand. “I could go back and look for it.”

“Leave it, Adam. I’m sure it’s nothing but a soggy mess by now, anyway.”

Adam frowned as another layer of guilt rolled over him. “Would you like something to eat?”

“No thanks. I couldn’t eat a thing.”

Feeling suddenly weary, Sidney set her glass beside her cup on the end table and leaned back, closing her eyes. “I think I’ll just clean up now and get ready for bed.”

He knew she was politely asking him to leave. But guilt held him back. “Maybe I should stay.”

She gave him a weak smile. “What could you possibly do that I can’t do for myself?”

“Wake you through the night and see if you can focus your eyes. If you can’t, I’ll know you’ve suffered a concussion and I can call a doctor.”

“That’s very kind of you. But my sister Emily is a doctor, and if I’m suffering any ill effects in the morning, I’ll be sure to call her.” She got slowly to her feet and stood a moment, waiting until the room stopped spinning.

Seeing the way she was holding on to the back of her chair, Adam took a step toward her.

She lifted a hand to stop him. She didn’t think she could bear another round of the weakness his touch seemed to cause. “Please. I’m fine now.”

“You don’t look fine. You look…” Like a piece of fragile crystal, he thought miserably. Or like a tiny bird, its wing broken, hopping just out of reach, refusing to allow itself to be caught by the very one who could most help.

She misread his silence. “I’m sure I’ll look much better after I’ve had a shower. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

Hearing the edge to her tone, he set aside his empty glass and wrote on a slip of paper before passing it to her. “This is the number of my cell phone. It’s always with me. If you should need me for any reason tonight, just call.”

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