Page 24 of Out of Time (Undaunted Courage #3)

THIRTEEN

“ THE LORD IS MY SHEPHERD; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul.”

As Natalie read the twenty-third psalm, Cara looked out over the lake, where Brad sat in Micah’s boat, the biodegradable box of ashes resting on the seat beside him.

No one else had attended the simple ceremony.

No other human, anyway.

But on the far side of the lake, two deer stood unmoving, watching the proceedings.

High above, a hawk circled, riding the wind currents.

Closer by, tucked among the scrubby brush at the edge of the water, three raccoons huddled together.

Rabbits, squirrels, and chipmunks were also in attendance, all strangely motionless as Natalie finished the psalm and closed the book.

“And now we commend you to God, Micah Reeves, with gratitude for your service and your kindness. May your new life in the heavenly kingdom be filled with peace and love.”

At her signal, Brad set the box on the ripples and waited until it sank out of sight as the late-afternoon light gilded the lake.

While he rowed back, Cara bent down to Thumper’s cage, where it had rested beside her during the brief service. Since the vet had removed the splint and pronounced the bunny healed yesterday, Natalie had agreed it would be fitting to release it back to the wild at the end of the ceremony.

She opened the latch and lifted the door.

For a moment, the rabbit didn’t move. Then, inch by inch, it crept out of the cage. Sniffed the air. Hopped down to the lake. It paused there for a few seconds before disappearing in the tall grass and bounding toward the woods.

“I hope Micah is happy now. And healed.”

At Natalie’s tear-laced comment, Cara stood and placed an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sure he is. I think God has a special love for gentle spirits who appreciate and nurture his creation.”

“A beautiful sentiment, my dear.” Natalie patted her hand.

Brad reached the shore, jumped out of the boat, and secured it to the post on the tiny dock. On the far bank, the deer melted back into the shadows as the hawk dipped over the lake in a graceful arc and flew off.

It was almost as if the wild creatures had come to pay their respects to the man who’d lived among them.

A fanciful thought, perhaps, but oddly comforting.

“Thank you for doing that, Sheriff.” Natalie grasped Brad’s hand when he joined them. “Dinner is waiting at the house. You haven’t changed your mind about joining us, have you?”

“No, ma’am. And please call me Brad. I’m not here today on official business.”

“In that case, you must call me Natalie. I believe we’ve become friends over the past few weeks through unfortunate circumstances. But every cloud has a silver lining, as they say, and I would certainly put a new friend in that category. May I take your arm as we walk back to the golf cart?”

“At your service.” He crooked his elbow.

Cara followed them, claiming the rear-facing seat for the short drive back.

Once at the house, Natalie put them both to work helping her dish up the dinner, and she proved to be her usual adept conversationalist while they ate. She also entertained them with stories about her escapades during her years at the Sorbonne.

Only when dessert was served did the exchange return to the events of the day.

As Natalie sliced a lemon cake, the corners of her mouth rose in a melancholy smile.

“Micah had quite the sweet tooth, you know. I used to leave little bags of cookies and brownies and other treats for him on the back galérie whenever I got in a baking mood. And I made one of these cakes for him every Christmas. I thought it was fitting to serve it in his memory.” She gave them each a generous portion and retook her seat.

“You know, I’m still shocked by how he died.

I suppose we have to accept the coroner’s ruling, but it doesn’t feel right. ”

“How so, Natalie?”

At Brad’s question, Cara scrutinized him. His tone was relaxed, but she’d been around him enough to pick up an underlying gravity that suggested there was more to his query than simple chitchat.

“I can’t explain it.” Natalie cut off a bite of her cake with the edge of her fork, twin creases denting her forehead.

“Like I can’t explain the potholder in the trash or my dizzy spells.

It’s just that so many odd things happening close together seems rather too coincidental to me. I suppose that sounds paranoid.”

“Not to those of us in law enforcement. Suspicion is our middle name.” Brad’s lips quirked, but then he grew more serious.

“To tell you the truth, I’m not much of a believer in coincidence either.

That’s one of the reasons I revisited the scene the next day and also went over Micah’s boat with a fine-tooth comb. ”

Ah.

That would explain why it had been stowed in the open shed beside the cabin for several days, shrouded in plastic, instead of tied by the dock.

“Did you find anything helpful?” Cara picked up her coffee cup as she directed her question to him.

He shifted his attention to her at once, a white-hot sizzle of current arcing between them across the table. As it had been doing during the entire dinner.

This dining room was a virtual electrical storm.

Did Brad feel it as much as she did?

The intensity of his gaze suggested he did, but it was possible she was over—

At the sudden clearing of a throat from the head of the table, Cara glanced at their hostess. There was a speculative gleam in her eyes as she looked between her two guests.

“I’m curious about that myself.” Natalie ate a bite of cake, a twinkle in her irises.

Cara peeked at Brad over the rim of her cup as she took a sip.

The sudden flush on his face suggested he’d been as caught up in the storm as she had. “I’m sorry. I lost the thread of the conversation for a minute.”

“Cara asked if you’d found anything helpful on Micah’s boat.”

“Oh. Right.” He patted his mouth with his napkin. “No. I didn’t.”

“So where do you go from here?”

“Nowhere, I’m afraid, unless the tox screen provides new information or another piece of evidence turns up. You’re sure you didn’t see anyone on the premises Sunday morning?”

“No. I don’t go wandering about anymore. If Steven had been here, he might have spotted someone on one of his hikes, but he left Saturday night to deal with an urgent business matter back in St. Louis. The price of success, I suppose.”

“Well, I intend to keep my ear to the ground.”

“Hmm.” Natalie tapped a finger on the table. “You know, in some ways this reminds me of the mystery about Marie.”

Brad frowned. “Who?”

“A long-ago relative.” She gave him a quick recap of her tragic end. “Cara and I are hoping to find a clue in her journals about what happened. I don’t think my father ever believed her death was an accident.”

“Why haven’t I ever heard that story?”

“It happened long ago, and time moves on. People forget. It was eventually consigned to family lore.”

“Do you know if the death was investigated?”

“I expect it was, with whatever techniques were available in those days in this backwater part of the world. But I doubt they were very sophisticated. However, the journals may shed a ray of light on the matter.”

“If you find anything that might provide better closure on her case, please let me know. It’s never too late to set a record straight.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Would you like more coffee or cake?” Natalie encompassed both of them with the question.

“No, thank you. That was a delicious meal.” Brad set his napkin on the table.

“I couldn’t eat or drink another bite, either.” Cara smiled and stood. “I’ll handle cleanup, as usual.”

“ We’ll handle cleanup.” Brad rose too and picked up his plate.

“But you’re my guest.” Natalie grasped the cane beside her chair. “I never ask guests to do their own dishes.”

“You didn’t ask. I offered.” He rose and pulled out her chair. “Many hands and all that.”

Natalie stood and gave them both another once-over. “Well, if you insist, I’ll relent. To tell you the truth, I wouldn’t mind sitting in bed with my latest book and making this an early night.” She touched Brad’s arm. “You’ll walk Cara to her cottage before you leave?”

“That was my plan.”

“Excellent. Cara, I’ll see you in the morning at nine o’clock sharp. Good night to you both.”

They returned the sentiment, and as she disappeared down the hall, Cara began to clear the table. “Honestly, you don’t have to help with the dishes. That’s a bargain Natalie and I made. You’ve already given up a big part of your day to help her honor Micah’s wishes.”

“I didn’t mind. Besides, I not only got a fine meal in the bargain, I also got a chance to spend a few hours with you.”

The voltage in the room spiked again.

Whew.

“You know ... talk like that could turn a girl’s head.”

“I’m hoping it also touches her heart.”

O-kay.

His response to her question at the cottage about whether he wanted her to have more to do with him had obviously been sincere.

This wasn’t a man who played games in the relationship arena.

But much as she liked him, there were still barriers to serious involvement. And since he was being clear about his interest, she may as well put those on the table.

“I’d like to comment on that, but why don’t we clear the table and relocate to the kitchen first?

” She inclined her head toward the hallway.

Natalie wasn’t the type to eavesdrop, but voices could carry in this house.

And while it was apparent the woman had picked up on the chemistry between her dinner guests, a private conversation like the one she and Brad were about to have should remain private.

“Okay.” He began to gather up the dishes, faint puckers marring his brow. As if he was worried she was about to tell him to take a hike.

Not even close.

Men like Brad didn’t come along every day, and she’d be a fool to let logistical and personal challenges derail a budding romance—assuming they could be overcome.

They worked in silence until the dishwasher was loaded and humming away. Then Cara motioned toward the table. “Let’s sit.”

In silence, he crossed to a chair and pulled it out for her.

After she sat, he joined her, folding his hands on the table. “I’m thinking an apology may be in order. Maybe I read too much into what you asked me last Friday.”

“No, you didn’t. But there are challenges.”

“There always are in any relationship.”

“More in some than others.”

“What specific challenges are you thinking about in terms of us?”

Us.

What a beautiful and hopeful word.

But getting to an us would require work.

“Location, for one. My work is in Cape. Yours is here.”

“I can live anywhere in this county.”

“Even if you moved to the most southeastern part, the commute for me would still be crazy long.”

“There are other counties in Missouri that need sheriffs and deputies.”

She blinked.

“But ... this is your home.”

A shadow passed across his face. “It was my home. Now there’s nothing holding me here. Everyone in my family has relocated. Besides, geography would never trump love for me, if that’s where this leads.”

Wow.

Was this man for real?

“You mean you’d give up your career for a woman?”

“Not my career. But for the right woman, I’d change my job, if that’s what it took.” His voice was steady. Certain. Resolute.

Double wow.

“Can I say I’m impressed?”

“I’d be happier if you said you were interested.”

“I’m interested.” An understatement if ever there was one. “What I can’t figure out is why you are.”

He squinted at her. “Why wouldn’t I be? You’re beautiful and smart and caring. Not to mention accomplished, talented, and a great conversationalist. You seem to have your act together, and you have strong family ties, which says a lot. What’s not to like?”

She tried not to let his compliments go to her head.

But she couldn’t stop them from going straight to her heart.

Still, he needed to be aware of what he was getting into with her.

“Maybe the fact that I resemble a space alien?” She lifted her hair to expose the transmitting coil held in place on the side of her head by a magnet, along with the sound processor and microphone hooked behind her ear.

“I also don’t speak with a normal cadence.

Sometimes I can’t communicate well. All of that can be off-putting, and it makes socializing hard.

Most guys don’t want to deal with the extra effort dating me requires. ”

“Their loss.”

His comeback was quick, decisive—and heartening.

“I appreciate that more than I can say. But dealing with my issues can be wearing in the long run. The couple of men I dated for more than a handful of times eventually gave up.”

“I repeat. Their loss. For the record, I’m not the kind of guy who gives up on something—or someone—worth having.”

She didn’t doubt that. Not from what she’d seen of him so far.

But there was more to her story.

The question was, how much of it did she want to share?