Page 47 of Out of Time (Undaunted Courage #3)

TWENTY-SIX

SWEET HEAVEN.

Steven was sneaking out of the house at night.

As Natalie peeked through the canted shutters in her room, her stomach clenched. There, in the moonlight, a dark figure hugged the shadowed edge of the galérie, then hurried toward the woods around the perimeter of the backyard and disappeared into the ten o’clock gloom.

The subtle noise she’d heard in the house, like the soft opening and closing of a door, had to have been her cousin. If she hadn’t been wide awake and listening for it after his unexpected arrival on this Wednesday night, she would never have known he’d slipped out.

Unless ... was it possible the person prowling about wasn’t him? That the noise she’d heard hadn’t been a door opening but simply the creak of old boards in the house?

Best to check his room and confirm it was empty before jumping to conclusions.

Clutching her cane, she crossed to the door. Peeked into the dark hall.

All was quiet.

She made her way down to his door as fast as she could with her bad leg. Carefully twisted the knob and peeked in, sending a silent prayer heavenward that she’d find him asleep.

Her prayer went unanswered.

His bed was empty.

Breath hitching, she closed her eyes.

Oh, Lord, what am I supposed to do now?

Seconds ticked by, but when no answer came, she trudged back to her room. Closed the door. Sat on the edge of the bed and replayed the counsel Father Johnson had offered her after he’d slipped into the pew beside her at the back of the empty church after early Mass on Sunday.

The pastor had an uncanny ability to sense a troubled soul.

While she hadn’t provided specifics, she’d given him enough information to capture the gist of her moral dilemma.

Namely, what do you do if you suspect someone you’ve always trusted and loved may be involved in a questionable activity?

The priest’s advice had been sound for most such situations—verify your suspicions if possible, then bring your concerns forward and have a candid and compassionate conversation with that person.

If the person was engaged in anything criminal, however, the advice might not work as well. In such a case, a conversation like that could even be unsafe.

Except Steven would never do anything illegal. Nor was he dangerous. The two of them were family. He’d never hurt her. Her concern about danger was unfounded.

She set her cane aside and laid back on the bed. Pulled her grandmother’s quilt over her.

There was no need to stay awake and listen for his return. She had the answer to her question about whether he was leaving the house at night.

What she didn’t have was the answer to the more important question.

Why?

So come tomorrow, after she and Cara finished their morning session, she’d confront him.

It wouldn’t be easy. Nor would it be comfortable. It was obvious Steven didn’t want her to know what he was up to.

But this was her property, and his skulking about was nerve-racking.

If he hadn’t mentioned a lady friend in St. Louis, she’d almost wonder if the situation with Marie and Paul’s grandfather was being reenacted a century later.

That would be a stretch, though. Those sorts of illicit trysts were much more common these days, sad to say, and there were far more inviting places for a rendezvous than the top of a cliff on a chilly night.

No, romance had no role in Steven’s nocturnal forays.

Perhaps, though, she was getting worked up over nothing. It was possible he’d have a simple explanation for all his clandestine activity.

Yet as the minutes ticked into hours while she lay awake in her dark room, she couldn’t for the life of her think what that might be.

YES !

Despite the inky confines of the cave, lit only with his headlamp, the gloomy interior suddenly got brighter.

Because he felt something.

Something Mother Nature hadn’t put there.

Pulse surging, Steven withdrew his hand from the crevice in the wall of the small passageway, leaned down, and peered in.

His light illuminated the top of a dirty canvas bag tucked far back, behind a few rocks. So well camouflaged he’d almost missed it.

But lady luck had smiled on him.

This had to be the treasure he’d been seeking for months.

Fingers tingling, he pulled out the rocks and set them on the floor of the passage beside him. Then he carefully grasped the bag and eased it from its hiding place.

It wasn’t heavy—but jewels didn’t have to weigh a lot to be valuable.

He set the bag on a rock ledge beside him and squinted into the crevice again.

Wedged farther back was a parcel wrapped in cloth.

That had to be the two paintings, though the package was much smaller than he’d anticipated.

Didn’t matter. Stolen art was too identifiable and therefore worth far less on the black market. The jewels were his primary cash cow.

He pulled out the parcel, set it on the floor of the passageway, and removed his work gloves. After wiping his palms down his jeans, he picked up the soiled, sturdy bag again.

Fingers trembling, he untied the cord around the top ... held his breath ... and pulled the fabric apart to look inside.

The tension that had been his constant companion for months evaporated instantly, replaced by an elation verging on giddiness.

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!

He was holding a fortune in his hands.

Diamonds, emeralds, rubies, sapphires. They glinted in the light from his headlamp as he shifted the bag of bracelets, necklaces, earrings, broaches.

His money worries were over.

Grinning, he spread the contents onto the rock ledge beside him.

As he fingered the fortune displayed before him, the stones glittered in the light from his headlamp like the crown jewels.

Wow.

His grandfather’s list hadn’t begun to capture the breadth of his bounty.

Diamond necklace didn’t come close to describing the jewel-encrusted choker studded with a fortune in sparkling precious stones.

He picked up a diamond-rimmed ruby broach. Examined it under the light from his headlamp.

Gorgeous.

It was a shame he’d have to ruin all these antique pieces by pulling out the stones, but it would be safer to sell loose gems. Intact jewelry could be identified if the owner had listed it on any of the international databases for stolen collectibles.

And considering all the valuables soldiers on both sides had plundered during World War II, it was very possible the owner had contacted one of those databases and—

At a sudden graze on his cheek, Steven jerked. Ducked. Uttered an oath.

The bats were on the move.

Thank goodness he wouldn’t have to dodge the little devils again after tonight, or worry about getting bitten by a rabid winged mammal. He was done with caves for the rest of his life.

Another night marauder zipped by, and he ducked again.

He was out of here.

After hastily gathering up the jewels, he threw them back in the bag.

It hadn’t been fun, but all the hours he’d spent in this crypt-like subterranean cavity had ended up paying off. Big time.

And he’d never have to come down here again. Going forward, he’d be able to sleep through the night. The disposal of his treasure could be done during normal waking hours.

He closed the bag again and secured it in his backpack with his bottle of water, extra jacket, and the crowbar he kept on hand in case he had to wedge any rocks loose. Tucked the bulky, twenty-by-twenty parcel of paintings under his arm. Took off for the entrance at a fast trot.

It might be wise to stash the paintings in his car tomorrow while Natalie was taking her midday nap—in case she decided to venture into his room again. He could bury the jewels deep in his overnight bag.

And now that his work here was done, maybe he’d leave Friday morning instead of staying through the weekend. Claim a work issue required his presence back in St. Louis. Which was true.

He had a ton of work to do to turn his treasure into cash.

Energy pulsing through him, he picked up his pace as he wove through the maze of passageways toward the entrance.

Once outside, he removed his headlamp and shoved it into his backpack.

Touched the concealed carry holster he always wore on his treks into the woods.

With mountain lion and black bear sightings becoming more common in Missouri, it would be foolish to wander about without any protection.

The last thing he needed was an encounter with a wild animal.

He struck off down the path, keeping close tabs on his surroundings as the eerie hoot of an owl echoed through the treetops. Nighttime tramps in the forest were one more activity he wouldn’t miss going forward.

Why anyone would choose to live in this rustic, godforsaken place was beyond him.

On the plus side, he didn’t have to visit as often anymore. Once every few weeks should suffice. He could tell Natalie his romance was heating up. She’d understand. She always did.

He was her golden boy.

And maybe, if he stopped coming around as much, she’d get lonely and move to St. Louis. It would be far less bothersome to swing by to see her there, and if she was closer, he’d have more opportunities to convince her to let him handle her affairs.

As he approached the clearing behind the house, he paused.

A light was still on in the guest cottage, meaning Cara hadn’t gone to bed yet. Not surprising. He’d finished much earlier tonight than usual. Less than an hour into his search.

No worries, though. He’d stay in the shadows until he got to the house. And since the sheriff hadn’t managed to get his security cameras installed yet, he didn’t have to dodge that potential trap either.

Nor would he ever have to.

He continued toward the back door, hugging the edge of the woods as he fished his key out, relief washing over him.

His search was over. The treasure was in hand, and no one would ever be the wiser.

He was safe.

And he’d never have to use the second vial of suxamethonium chloride he’d pilfered at the vet hospital—just in case—while Chloe attended to the canine emergency that had interrupted their date last week.

NATALIE LOOKED WORSE TODAY than she had on Monday—which was saying a lot.

As Cara set her laptop on the worktable in the study Thursday morning, she eyed the deep, parallel channels on the woman’s forehead, her slight pallor, and the tremble in her fingers as she reached for her glasses.

Whatever was bothering her was getting worse.

And her distress was impossible to ignore.

“Good morning, Cara.” Natalie put on her glasses and picked up the journal. Opened it to the bookmarked page. “Ready to dive in?”

“Not quite.”

Natalie looked up. “What’s wrong?”

“I think I should ask you that question. You seem upset. Is Steven all right?”

A pained expression tightened the older woman’s features, suggesting the query had been on target.

Steven was the source of her concern.

After a brief hesitation, Natalie removed her glasses. “Did you know he came back last night?”

It wasn’t an answer to her question, but it was news.

“No. He must have arrived late.”

“About eight. He called thirty minutes out.”

“Was the unexpected visit an issue?”

“Of course not. He knows he’s always welcome here. And he can use the rest. He still gets headaches from his injury.”

“If you’re worried about his health, why don’t you see if you can convince him to go to the urgent care center in town? It’s possible he was hurt worse than everyone thought.”

“That’s not why I’m worried.”

At least Natalie had admitted she was concerned.

“So what’s going on?”

“I wish I knew. But I’m going to find out.” Her lips settled into a firm line, and she lifted her chin. “However, that can wait until we finish our work for the day. I cut our session short once this week and I don’t intend to do that again.”

“I understand if a personal issue has come up that has to be dealt with.”

“No. It’s not that urgent. And it may be much ado about nothing anyway. Now, where did we leave off?”

Since it was obvious Natalie wasn’t going to offer any more information about her problem with Steven, Cara transferred her attention to the screen and read the last sentence in the translation.

For the rest of their two-hour session, Natalie worked without a break, faltering only once when noise sounded from the hall around ten, indicating that Steven was up.

But she kept going until eleven o’clock sharp. Then she closed the journal, removed her glasses, and massaged the bridge of her nose.

“Another productive session.” Cara shut down her laptop. “At this rate, we’ll finish by Thanksgiving.”

“I’d say that’s a reasonable estimate. Not that I’m in a hurry to see you go, you know. I’ve enjoyed our collaboration.”

“I have too, although the term collaboration may be generous. I’ve been more like a scribe.”

“No, your knowledge of the culture has been very beneficial in helping me interpret fuzzy passages. I’ll stick with collaboration.” She rose and picked up the journal. Crossed the room toward the desk to deposit it. “I’ll see you at dinner, my dear. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

Cara stood, gathered up her laptop and tablet, and headed for the hall—but with worry about Natalie front and center in her mind, enjoying the rest of her day would be difficult.

Whatever was troubling the woman was serious.

But what could be wrong between her and Steven? As far as she’d been able to discern, the two of them had an excellent relationship. And they couldn’t have had a falling-out. He wouldn’t have come down here to recuperate from his injury if any rancor had developed between them.

She continued down the hall and into the kitchen, stopping as she passed the table to glance at the note on top, addressed to Natalie.

Hmm.

Steven must be feeling better if he’d been up to a walk to the lake.

As she stepped onto the galérie, she scanned the cloudless blue sky. Inhaled the crisp fall air.

What a glorious day for a hike around the property. The perfect way to clear her head after two hours of intense work with Natalie as they’d struggled to decipher several difficult passages.

And it should be safe to wander around with an able-bodied man in the vicinity.

In fact, perhaps she ought to seek Steven out. Alert him to Natalie’s distress and see if he offered any clues about its source.

At the very least, she could help set the stage for whatever discussion Natalie wanted to have with him. Encourage him to put her mind at ease. It would be such a shame if anything interfered with their relationship. Family was everything, after all, and they only had each other.

She picked up her pace toward the cottage.

Butting into other people’s business wasn’t her usual style, but surely Natalie and Steven wouldn’t mind if she was able to help them smooth out whatever turbulence had disrupted their placid relationship.

Besides, given all the stressful incidents she’d endured over the past few weeks, Natalie didn’t deserve any more turmoil.