idealistic college graduate he’d been then. Seventeen years filled with covering man’s inhumanities to man. A lifetime of seeing things that no one should ever have to know even existed, let alone deal with. He swallowed at the metallic taste of hopelessness that coated his mouth.
Maybe it was time for a long vacation away from it all. And this place did have its compensations. An image of Cassie’s bright face popped into his mind.
“You did remember to use cash, didn’t you?” Harry demanded.
“Yes, Harry,” Dan said soothingly. “I know all about tracing people through their credit-card purchases. And your contact was waiting at the airport in Portsmouth with the rental car just like you said he’d be.”
“You be careful, you hear?” Harry thundered. “Get yourself killed and, by God, you’re fired!”
Dan unexpectedly laughed. “I think firing me under those circumstances would come under the heading of the absolute, final straw. Call the minute you hear anything. Goodbye, Harry,” he said and then hung up.
“Goodbye, Harry,” Dan repeated as he got to his feet and walked over to the window. “Goodbye, New York. Goodbye, murder and mayhem.” He took a deep breath of the salt-laden air drifting through the sheer white curtains. “And hello possibilities.”
A smile unconsciously lifted his lips. The most intriguing possibility he’d seen so far was meeting him downstairs in—he glanced at his watch—right about now. He hurried toward the door, his movements awkward in his haste. She might think he’d changed his mind and not wait for him if he were late.
He found her sitting in a gorgeous vintage car in front of the inn.
“Where did you get a Packard in mint condition?” Dan asked reverently as he slowly circled the car, admiring it from every angle.
“My aunt bought it back in 1939.”
“And she still has it?”
Cassie grinned at him. “It still works.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting your aunt,” he said as he got into the passenger seat.
Cassie shifted gears and accelerated down the steep driveway with the casualness of long practice. “Forget it,” she said, having no trouble interpreting the covetous gleam in his eye. “My father has been trying to get his hands on this car for as long as I can remember, with absolutely no success. Although she did threaten to sell it to a collector in Portsmouth last year when they raised her collision rates again. What does your insurance company charge for vintage cars?”
Dan blinked. “What?”
“You said you were in insurance. What do you charge?”
“Um, we don’t handle car insurance. We mostly do large commercial buildings and the like,” he answered, improvising hastily. He should have claimed to be an author, he realized with the wisdom of hindsight. Something that didn’t have a body of knowledge that he should know.
“I see,” Cassie murmured, wondering whether to believe him or not. He could be telling the truth. Large commercial buildings did have insurance, so someone had to sell it to them. And it was possible that he wouldn’t know much about the rest of the industry. So why did she have the nagging feeling that she was being lied to? And what would be his purpose? He didn’t even know her. Maybe he was just an inept insurance man, she decided, glancing at him sideways as she turned onto the rugged coast road.
He was surreptitiously rubbing his palm over his right thigh, as if trying to massage a pain that was bone deep. A pain that he refused to give in to. Instead, he’d come with her. She would have expected a man with that kind of dogged determination to be a very knowledgeable insurance agent who knew all the ins and outs of the business.
But then, she didn’t really know him, she reminded herself. Despite the inexplicable sense of recognition she’d felt when she’d first seen him, she didn’t really know him. But perhaps she would by the time her vacation was over. The possibility lent a happy sense of anticipation to her thoughts.
The ride into Levington took only twenty minutes, despite the abysmal condition of the road.
“My God, don’t they ever fix the potholes?” Dan gasped as she swerved perilously near the side of the road to avoid a particularly bad one. He peered out the window, his eyes widening as he calculated the sheer drop off the cliff to the shore below. “You were right to be concerned about insurance,” he muttered. “Sooner or later you’re going to need it. Or your survivors will.”
“It’s not that bad. No one’s ever tumbled off that drop yet. At least, not sober they haven’t,” she amended. “One can’t eliminate all of the dangers in life.”
“No.” The curtly spoken word held a bitterness out of all proportion to her casual comment. “And that, I take it, is the town of Levington?” Dan gestured toward the buildings that had came into view.
“Uh-huh. We’ll stop by the newspaper office first.” Cassie decided to start her rumors of ghost sightings there.
“Newspaper?” Dan frowned as she parked in front of a small, redbrick building, trying to decide what the chances of his being recognized by the staff were. Slim, he finally concluded. He had never used a picture with his stories and they’d be highly unlikely to connect Dan Travis who walked in off the street with Leland Travis, Pulitzer Prize winner. Besides, for him to suddenly refuse to go into the newspaper office would be bound to make Cassie suspicious of him. Something he didn’t want to do.
“It’s a pretty good little paper, even if it is only a weekly.” Cassie climbed out of the car. “Ed Veach has run it for as long as I can remember.”
“It must be nice to publish a weekly.” Dan looked around curiously as he followed her into the building. “Just local news, with a minimum of carnage.”
Cassie shot him a curious glance, wondering at the wistful tone in his voice, but before she could think of a way to phrase a question, she caught sight of Ed coming out of the storeroom in the back and hurried over to him.
“Ed, I have something I want to talk to you about,” she said.
He eyed her suspiciously. “Whatever good cause you’re selling raffle tickets for, I don’t want any.”
“I’m not selling anything,” she told him.
Ed opened his eyes in mock surprise. “Will wonders never cease! You’ve actually come to buy some advertising?”
“No, not that either. Ed, this is Dan Travis, who’s a guest at the inn. Dan, this cynic is Ed Veach.”
Ed automatically shook the hand Dan held out. He stared intently into Dan’s face for a long, puzzled moment, and then his mouth fell open. “Say, aren’t you—”
“I’m Dan Travis, an insurance agent from New York City.”
Cassie blinked, taken aback at the tone of Dan’s voice. It had gone from casual pleasantness to... She peered uncertainly at him. For a moment he had sounded capable of... Of what? She scoffed at her imagination.
“Certainly, certainly. My mistake. Insurance, you say?” Ed continued
