left her to talk to police by herself. The nickname “doll” came from the way his parents said he used to like to play with her as much as his little sister liked playing with her dolls. She smiled sadly at the memory. Preston had called her “doll” to get her on the Jet Ski, but not because he wanted to rekindle their friendship.
She focused on Shaw. “That’s fine, Officer. I’m not planning to talk to Caleb anymore anyway.”
“What? Why not?” Caleb held his hands out as a different cop motioned him away. “Is there another man in your life?”
No. Just the shadow of a man. “Goodbye, Caleb.” Preston or no Preston, her main regret with the lawyer was that she hadn’t said goodbye sooner.
Shaw led her toward the police car next to her totaled vehicle. Debris had smashed into it, and the heat had melted everything from her purse to her computer to her luggage. She’d need to go shopping, but could she even get money out of her bank without a license and debit card? Maybe Dad could wire her some cash for the rest of the weekend. She’d hole up at the lodge, waiting for Preston to show up again.
Or had she been knocked unconscious by the blast from the explosion and dreamed the whole Preston thing? That would actually make more sense than his sudden appearance after four years.
“What’s your relationship with Mr. Brooks?”
Blech. Holly didn’t want to even think about Caleb. Had he been cheating on her the whole time? “We were supposed to get married this weekend, but I found time-stamped pictures of him with someone else in my mailbox last week.”
Officer Shaw scribbled notes. “You don’t suspect Mr. Brooks set the bomb?”
She leaned back against the seat. “No. He obviously lacks morals, but he’s not stupid.”
The policeman gave her a hard look.
She shrugged. “We’re defense attorneys. If he’d planted a bomb, he would have made sure he had an alibi far away from here.”
Shaw scratched his head with the back of his pencil. “We will check out his alibi. You really think Ms. Amador would go to such lengths?”
Up until twelve days ago, Holly hadn’t even known the woman existed. “I don’t know.” She thought back to Preston’s suggestions that a former client might be after her. Would he have considered Denise a suspect had he known of Holly’s broken engagement? It didn’t matter now. The police were looking into it. She told Shaw about the blue Jeep before asking for a ride to Cedar Glen.
* * *
The resort had been remodeled since Preston’s last visit. It was a nice change, though it made him sad how easily life went on without him. Holly probably wouldn’t need him around for long, either. Hopefully, she’d kept her word and hadn’t mentioned him to authorities.
She arrived a couple hours later in khaki shorts and a ruffled, baby blue tank top, carrying a shopping bag. Her parents must have wired her some money.
He waited until she’d checked into Cottage 19 before scanning the surroundings and knocking on her door. It would have been safer for her to be in the main lodge, but the place always booked up months in advance.
“Who is it?”
“Preston.” Saying his own name sounded strange. He usually gave a different alias everywhere he went.
The door swung open. “So you are real. I thought maybe I’d imagined the whole thing.” Holly left him at the door and sat on the brown leather sofa in front of a stone fireplace. She clicked the television remote to turn down the volume of the local news, which was covering the bombing she’d just escaped.
Preston closed the door and looked from the on-screen reporter standing in front of the charred cabin remains to the woman whose great-grandparents had built it. “How are you doing?”
“Numb right now. My attorney brain is trying to make sense of all this, but the pieces don’t fit together.” She gave a wry smile. “Mom and Dad offered to drive up, but I told them you are taking good care of me.”
His shoulders sagged until he registered her small smile. “No, you didn’t.”
Her smile disappeared. “I wanted to. I hate secrets.”
“So do I.” His secret was what kept him from taking her to The Rustic Lounge to enjoy a good meal and talking until midnight, the way they used to. “How did it go with the cops?”
The corners of her mouth curved down. “I might as well tell you about my cancelled engagement.” She looked away. “My former fiancé—your old JAG friend Caleb Brooks—was at the cabin. Said he wanted to work it out with me. Police seemed to suspect him at first, but now they are looking into the other woman. I personally think she’s more likely.”
Preston clamped his jaw shut. He could get himself in trouble here if he wasn’t careful. “I’d like to look into other possibilities.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “You mean like check into which of my former clients have been released from jail recently and that kind of thing?”
“Yes.” She’d be a good investigator with her experience in law and the research that went into it. Unfortunately, that was what gave her the idea she could help find his saboteur. He’d disappear before she ever got the chance to try.
She scooted over. “Are you going to sit down?”
He’d been planning to keep his distance. His mission was to find the person after her so she could return to her life safely. Nothing else. Which meant they had work to do.
“How about we go to the business office and use their computers for our research?”
She frowned. “You don’t have a computer or phone?”
He shook his head. “I go to the library for research since I can’t pay for internet or cellular service without a credit card.”
Holly blinked. “Of course.”
And hers would have been destroyed in the bomb blast. He tilted his head toward the door. “Come on.”
Preston led her across the commons area with its picnic tables, fire pits and swimming pool, toward another small cottage structure that housed a few game tables in one room and computers in the other. Two kids swatted a Ping-Pong ball back and forth and didn’t even notice them as they entered the smaller interior room.
Holly sank into a chair and ran an internet search on Operation Desert Hope before he could stop her. The black-and-white image of a burning helicopter took his breath away. It came to life in his memory with the roar of fire, the heat of flames, the smell of sulfur and the taste of acid in his throat. Shouts. Sirens. The realization he’d let his team down. Not to mention the failed recovery of hostages whose families counted on him to bring them home safely. Then there was Sergeant Beatty warning Preston to lie low until he discovered exactly what had happened.
Preston had failed them all.
“Holly.” He pushed through the past to get back to the woman in the room with him. “We are investigating the bomb at your cabin, remember?”
She
