Page 26 of Dead Girl Running

Some chuckles.

“It’s too windy for umbrellas, but if you need a poncho, I have them. One size fits all!” Birdie raised the yellow plastic over her head. “But first, Kellen has some hors d’oeuvres to sustain you until you get to the resort. Help yourselves to one on the way out the door, and don’t worry—we have more in the van.”

The promise of treats got the group moving in a hurry. Everyone took one, descended the steps, gasped at the lash of the wind and rain and headed for the van.

Out of the corner of her mouth, Birdie asked, “Are those two old enough to be married?”

Kellen knew exactly what she meant.

Justin and Julia held hands and smiled at each other. When the ladies from Alaska asked about their love story, the two of them gushed that they’d met as freshmen at Wenatchee Valley College, dated until they both graduated, and gotten married in January because it was the cheapest time of the year.

The pilot unloaded the luggage onto a cart and pushed it toward the back of the van; when Birdie started to lift the suitcases, Justin leaped forward and took over. Nice kid. Julia waited patiently, then the newlyweds crawled into the back of the van and snuggled and kissed.

“The Shivering Sherlocks ladies are a hoot,” Kellen said to Birdie.

They were. Tammy White seemed to be in charge; she herded them toward the seats, consulted her clipboard and told them their room numbers and who their roommates would be. When she was done, the other ladies saluted, laughed and teased her, then talked over each other in rapidly increasing volume. Debbie had no-nonsense iron gray hair, Candy had dyed hers a soft blond, but they were obviously twins. The ladies helped themselves to the hors d’oeuvres and pried into Kellen’s and Birdie’s backgrounds.

Nils Brooks came down the steps late, holding his computer case to his chest like a child he needed to protect. He ducked to get into the van, smacked his head, backed away and took off his rain-smeared glasses. He slipped them into his pocket.

Kellen caught a glimpse of his eyes. Brown, with thick black lashes.

Kellen took a long step back. She knew him.Didn’t she?

“He’s anauthor,” Mrs. White told Birdie and Kellen, as if that explained everything.

Kellen watched from behind as he climbed into the seat in the back corner and scrunched away from the newlyweds. Those eyes… She remembered those eyes. But his face… No. She didn’t remember him at all.

“He can write in my book anytime,” Birdie quietly told Kellen.

Startled, Kellen raised her brows at Birdie.

“I’m a widow,” Birdie said. “There’s nothing wrong with my vision.”

Kellen could hardly argue with that. He was nice to look at. And those eyes… “He’s not what I expected. On the phone, he sounded impatient. The way he questioned me about the area—he thought he was the shitz.Thatman has a dimple.”

“More than one, I’d imagine.”

“I’m talking about the one in his chin.” With everybody seated, Kellen got into the driver’s seat.

Birdie lowered the jump seat, faced the guests and picked up the second box of hors d’oeuvres.

“Hey, folks!” The pilot stuck his head in the van, startling everyone. “It’s getting dark. The weather’s closing in. I’ve got ice on the wings and I’m not going to chance taking my plane out. Mind if I stay at the resort until it clears?”

CHAD GRIFFIN:

MALE, 40S, PILOT, ACCOMPLISHED WOMANIZER (IN HIS OWN MIND). EATS TOO MUCH, DRINKS TOO MUCH, DRAMATIZES HIS (UNLIKELY) MILITARY BACKGROUND. SHIFTLESS, LAZY, IRRITATING TO RESORT STAFF, BARNACLE-LIKE (DIFFICULT TO REMOVE).

Still, Kellen had no choice, so she said, “Of course, Chad, come on in.”

He flung in his carry-on, slid into the passenger’s seat and turned to face the group behind him. “You’re not rid of me yet.”

The women laughed and assured him they didn’t mind.

As they made the trip to the resort, Birdie gave them a brief history of the area, the Di Luca family’s vision for this place where the land met the sea and sky and what they could expect in the way of activities. All the while she passed more hors d’oeuvres.

The newlyweds fell on them with enthusiasm: they were teenagers, this was free food—and they were going to need the energy.

The drive took twenty minutes, and as Kellen turned onto the sweeping driveway toward the portico, she saw something white near the drive under a row of rhododendrons. She knew what it was; one of the coyotes must have dragged a bone away from the carcass out on the grasses to gnaw on in peace.