you...? That was Broarty’s way of letting you know what he would have done differently, had he been the type who actually did things instead of talk about them.
Both the soreness in Jack’s backside and the memory of the damp chill that had infiltrated his bones out in the woods were being massaged away by the swirling water. To rid his mind of the image of the pink, piggish face of Marcus Broarty, he closed his eyes and thought instead of Robynn. He missed her terribly whenever he was away, though just the mental picture of her beautiful face brought a smile to his lips.
“Must be awfully good, whatever you’re thinking,” a voice near him said, and Jack opened his eyes.
He saw a woman standing at the edge of the Jacuzzi across from him. She was young—about twenty-eight, he guessed—tanned, blonde, and form-fitted into a satiny blue one-piece. The woman’s freckles were completely disarming. So were her eyes, which were a rich green color. “Sorry,” she said, flashing a perfect smile, “I didn’t mean to startle you. Mind if I join you?”
“No, not at all.”
The woman stepped into the Jacuzzi, her tanned legs melting into the water. “Wow, this is warm.”
“It takes a few seconds to get used to it, but once you do, you won’t want to leave. At least I don’t. I may spend the night in here.”
“I could tell you were having a good time from your expression when I walked up.”
Jack smiled. “Well, it was also because I was thinking about my daughter. She’s back in L.A.”
“What’s her name?”
“Robynn, and I’m Jack. Jack Hayden.” He extended a wet hand to her and she shook it.
“I’m Dani Lindstrom.”
“Danny? Like Danny Glover?”
“D-A-N-I. It’s short for Danica. So, Jack Hayden, what brings you all the way up here from L.A.?”
“Work. I’m a structural engineer and building inspector, and I had to come up to check out an old ghost town a little south of here.”
“Around here? Really? You’re not talking about Glenowen, are you?”
Glenowen, California, was a small, quasi-Victorian village several miles down the highway. “No, this one is called Wood City. It’s the ruins of a company town that was built in the thirties to service a lumber mill that they never got around to opening. I guess if you’ve never heard of the place you’re not from this area, either.”
“I’m from San Diego,” she said. “But I travel a lot. I’m a freelance DJ.”
“For parties?”
“No, on the radio, for smaller towns, mostly. I do vacation gigs, or go in if someone leaves a station altogether and they’re suddenly stuck for a DJ. I stay as long as they need me, and then go onto the next gig. It’s a little like being a temp, but instead of typing or filing, I play songs and talk.”
For the first time Jack became conscious of her voice, which was low and pleasing, and had the promise of sounding sexy as hell. “How does one even get into that kind of work?” he asked.
“Are you really interested or just being polite?”
“I’m interested. It sounds like an unusual job.”
Dani Lindstrom stretched out her legs and leaned back against the rim of the Jacuzzi, so that her breasts appeared to float on the water like twin buoys. Jack tried not to leer. “It’s not that fascinating a story,” she said. “I got an internship at a station when I was in college, and decided I liked radio, except for the politics that always seems to come with it. It’s show biz, so you’re dealing with egos and people who were fixated on their career trajectory, and I have a kind of allergy to that sort of thing. I had just about decided that radio wasn’t for me after all when a little station asked if I’d fill in for a few weeks, and I realized that was it. The regular staff wasn’t threatened by my temporary presence, so I started advertising in radio journals as a professional replacement, then an agent contacted me, and here I am.”
“So you just travel around the country going from station to station?”
“Pretty much. I’m ready to spin whatever they need, classical, country, rock, anything.”
“You must know an awful lot about all music.”
She smiled. “I learned early on that if you read the liner notes in the CD, you can become an instant expert.”
“I don’t think I could take all that travel,” Jack said.
“Oh, I enjoy it. It was Perry had the problem.”
“Boyfriend?”
“Husband.”
“Ah. I can see where constant travel could be hard on a marriage.”
“Not as hard as being married to a total jerk. My marriage was the biggest mistake of my life, but now it’s over, as of last Wednesday. That’s why I’m here. I’m taking two weeks off to celebrate.” She sat up and leaned closer to him, her green eyes shining, and for the first time Jack realized that Dani Lindstrom was not wearing make-up of any kind, nor did she need any to look stunning. “But I’d rather hear more about this ghost town of yours. Where is it?”
“You know where the highway goes to two-lane and seems to be cut through the forest just south of here, before you get to Glenowen?”
“No, but I’ll take your word for it.”
“The remnant of an old access road is right there. Follow it in for a mile or so and you eventually come to Wood City, or what’s left of it. It’s largely ruins. There was one thing that happened that was kind of scary, though.”
Dani slid closer, so close that her hand could have easily touched Jack’s arm. “What?” she asked.
He told her about the exposed mural fragment in the building, and she listened raptly. After he was finished, she said: “I’d love to see that.”
“There’s not much to see, and it’s in a filthy, dilapidated old building. I’d be a little nervous about bringing someone else in there. Besides, you can’t drive all the way in because of the foliage, and once you get out it’s an uphill, difficult hike to the city.”
“Sounds like fun to me.”
Jack shook his head. “Okay, look at it this way. The guy I report to is the type who gives idiots a bad name. If I took you to the site and you got injured, he would fire me immediately for reckless negligence and then sue you for trespassing. I’m sorry, Dani, I just can’t take the risk.”
“Then what about the pictures? You said you took pictures while you were up there. Can I at least see those?”
“You’re really interested in this, aren’t you?”
“You were really interested in my story. I want to see the pictures. Are they in your room?”
“Yes,
