Lethal Affair. Jean Pichon ThomasЧитать онлайн книгу.
obeyed his newest request, turning in her seat as much as the restraint of the belt would permit. Her view through the back window was considerably more accurate than what her outside mirror provided.
She waited a minute to report, “He’s sticking with us.”
“Coming up just ahead. Hang on.”
She did and learned why when, without slowing, Casey sharply and abruptly swung the Toyota into the side road he must have been watching for and found.
She was watching, as well. “The green demon turned, too,” she announced.
“Good.”
She understood now just what Casey was testing. He wanted to learn whether the green sedan only seemed to be following them or if this was a deliberate pursuit. Well, he’d evidently determined which was correct, but Brenna wasn’t certain it had been worth the risk.
She was even less certain of that when the Toyota bounced over a deep pothole, jolting her harshly. The road had obviously not been kept in repair. There’d been no reason to when the newer road was built. Worse than being in a rough condition with its broken pavement, it was narrow and without any guardrails. And now that they were fully in the forested highlands, with long drops over the side... Unnerving.
“Casey, this isn’t smart. The road is bad, and there’s nothing along it. If that guy tailing us is dangerous and should catch up with us out here in the middle of nowhere...”
“He won’t. I’ll lose him before that happens.”
“You’re awfully sure of yourself.”
He turned his head just long enough to favor her with one of his smug grins. “Hey, I’m an experienced FBI agent, remember? I know how to chase the bad guys and I know how to outrun them. Besides, that heap back there is in no shape to keep up with us. You’ll see.”
Maddening. He was maddening.
Moreover, Casey failed to ease his foot on the accelerator, and with the tortuous road growing more treacherous with every mile, she thought he might have realized that was imperative. He didn’t.
Brenna felt dizzy with all the rapid twists and turns. And when she found herself looking over the side into a deep gorge, and had a vision of the Toyota plunging into it, her giddiness morphed into absolute terror.
Casey’s only reaction to their perilous situation was a placid “Nice scenery up here, huh? I’d say they’re more mountains than highlands.”
“And I say I’m going to lose my breakfast if you don’t slow down.”
Much to her relief, he braked the car to, if not a crawl, at least a cautious speed. “Look,” he said.
“At what?”
“At what you were supposed to be on the lookout for. Your green demon is no longer behind us. He must have decided we weren’t worth it and headed back. Told you he’d give up.”
“Aren’t you the clever one? So, why are we stopping then?” she wondered when he pulled the Toyota over to the side and put the shift gear into Park. “The direct road can’t be much farther.”
He turned to face her. “Because I have some questions for you.”
“Such as?”
“Kind of funny, isn’t it, that some guy should turn up out of nowhere and decide to follow us?”
“Why should you imagine I would have an answer for that any more than you do?”
“I don’t know, Brenna. We had a pretty good view of him back at the store. It’s got me wondering whether you might have realized who he is.”
“What kind of question is that? Of course I don’t know who he is. Why on earth would I?”
“Maybe you saw him hanging around at the villa and recognized him from there. Could be Bradley is using thugs like him to keep tabs on you.”
“To an extent like this? That’s nuts, even if he did have a reason to have me watched, and I can’t imagine what that could possibly be. Why is it that you insist on connecting anything at all negative with Marcus?”
“Just trying to cover the possibilities.”
“Well, don’t. Can we please forget this and go on?”
“All right,” he said, shifting back into Drive, “let’s find your falls.”
She was ready to put the whole episode behind her. Wanted to do just that. Except Casey left her reluctantly remembering Julio last night outside the guesthouse.
* * *
A graveled parking area had been provided for visitors to the falls.
“Looks like we’ve got the place to ourselves,” Casey observed, pulling into the small, empty lot.
Brenna left her tote and purse in the car, taking only her camera with her. By the time Casey locked the Toyota and joined her, she had located a sign posted at the mouth of a trail, the arrow on it indicating the direction of the attraction.
“It can’t be far,” she said. “I can hear the sound of the water from here.”
The trail was wide enough to permit them to walk side by side. Although the ever-protective Casey offered no comment on this feature, Brenna knew it satisfied him to be able to keep her close. There was no point in objecting. He wouldn’t have listened.
A few hundred yards brought them through the forest to their destination. They suddenly found themselves in the open, standing on the lip of a ravine.
Casey spoke his approval in her ear. “It doesn’t disappoint, does it?”
She shook her head, marveling at the sight. She understood why it was called Braided Falls. There was no single stream of water tumbling over the ledge high above them on their right, but three distinctly separate ones. Several feet along their descent, the projecting rocks of the cliff face squeezed them together into one cascade. A little lower, and they separated again, then still lower joined once more, like strands of hair twined into a fat braid.
A pool at the bottom rimmed with moss and banks of ferns finally received the waters. From here they rushed through the ravine they had carved, their course taking them beneath a sturdy, hanging bridge that faced the falls.
“I’m going out on the bridge,” Brenna announced. “I should get some great shots from there.”
“I guess it wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t safe,” Casey agreed.
By the time he’d followed her to the center of the bridge, she was busy with her Nikon compact, adjusting it for color, sharpness and clarity. She was ready to record a series of photographs when she heard it.
“Listen!”
“What?” Casey questioned. “All I can hear is the roar of the falls.”
“Not that. It’s the sound of drums coming from somewhere off the other side of the bridge.”
“You’re imagining it.”
She shook her head in denial. “I don’t think so. There’s a path there. I’m going to follow it and see what I can learn about those drums. I don’t think they can be the usual steel ones. Could be really interesting.”
Before he could stop her, she was off the bridge and hurrying along the path.
“Brenna, come back here!” he yelled after her. “Damn it, now who’s being reckless?”
She ignored him, knowing he would catch up with her. He did, muttering, “You’re going to get into trouble with this appetite of yours for local color.”
“You should talk. You weren’t worried about trouble when you took us over that rotten road.”
“So we’re even.”