joyriding with one of the young farmhands working on the property this summer.
“Mel?” A man’s voice boomed over the roar of the engines. “You out here? Mel Fiske, you hear me?”
“Great,” she muttered. It was option C. The riders were out looking for her. As the farm’s resident EMT-paramedic, she knew there could be a legitimate medical reason for the men to be searching for her. Minor accidents were fairly common with farm work. And some folks neglected their water intake and tried to do too much, easily overheating in Missouri’s summer heat. But she really didn’t want to be discovered. Not here at her father’s boat. Not when her aunt had asked her to leave the past alone, since stirring up memories of Henry’s brother’s drowning upset her uncle when he needed to be focusing on important business matters. Finding her here would certainly upset someone.
Like a swarm of bees buzzing toward a fragrant bed of flowers, the ATVs were making their way down through the trees, coming closer. Melanie glanced up at the crystal blue sky and realized the sun had shifted to the west. She’d been gone for more than two hours. No wonder Henry had sent his number-one guard dog to search for her.
It wasn’t as if she could outrun a motorized four-wheeler. She glanced around at the dirt and rocks leading down to the shoulder-high reeds and grasses growing along the shoreline. She couldn’t outswim the men searching for her, either. Her gaze landed on the sun-bleached wood dock jutting into the water several feet beyond the reeds. Or could she?
Melanie unzipped her jeans and crawled out of them. After tucking the watch safely inside the pocket with the mysterious steel ring, she stripped down to her white cotton panties and support bra and sprang to her feet. With a little bit of acting and a whole lot of bravado, she raced onto the listing dock and dove into the lake.
The surface water was warm with the summer’s blistering heat, but she purposely swam down to the murky haze of deeper water to cool her skin and soak her hair so that it would seem she’d been out in the water for some time, oblivious to ATVs, shouting voices and family who wanted her to account for all her time.
She didn’t have to outswim anybody. She just had to make up a good cover story to explain why she’d gone for a dip in her underwear instead of her sensible one-piece suit. Melanie was several yards out by the time she kicked to the surface.
As she’d suspected, she saw two men idling their ATVs on the shore near the footing of the dock. The bigger man, the farm’s foreman and security chief, who thought shaving his head hid his receding hairline, glared at her with dark eyes. He waved aside the other man, telling him to move on. “Radio in that she’s okay. Then get on over to the fishing dock to make sure it’s ready for that group from Chicago tomorrow.”
The other man nodded. He pulled the walkie-talkie from his belt and called into the main house to report, “We found her, boss,” before revving the engine and riding away. Meanwhile, Melanie pushed her heavy wet hair off her face and began a leisurely breast stroke to the end of the dock.
Silas Danvers watched her approach. “What are you doing out here?”
It wasn’t a friendly question. As usual, Silas was on edge about something or someone. But, then, when wasn’t the short-tempered brute ticked off about something?
Melanie opted for a bimbo-esque response he seemed to find so attractive in her cousin. She treaded water at the edge of the dock, even though she could probably stretch up on her tiptoes and stand with her head above the water. “It’s a hundred degrees out here. What do you think I’m doing?”
She was getting good at lying. Maybe it was a family trait she’d inherited from her uncle.
“Why can’t you just take a bath like a normal woman? Get your ass out of the water,” he ordered. “You’re out of cell range here.”
Melanie stopped moving and curled her toes into the mud beneath her, feeling a twinge of guilt. “Is there an emergency?”
“No, but Daryl’s been trying to get a hold of you. He’s got a question about those medical supplies you asked him to pick up in town. No sense him making two trips just because you decided to go skinny-dipping.”
Melanie nodded and paddled to the tarnished copper ladder at the edge of the dock. “Okay. I’ll get out as soon as you leave.”
“You got nothin’ I ain’t seen before.” Well, he hadn’t seen hers, and she wasn’t about to show him. Still, she had a feeling that Silas’s reluctance to turn the ATV around and ride away had less to do with her being nearly naked and more to do with his egoistic need to make sure his orders were followed. “Don’t keep Daryl waiting.”
Melanie held on to the ladder until he had gunned the engine and disappeared through the line of trees at the top of the hill. Victory. Albeit a small one. Once his shiny bald head had vanished over the rise, Melanie wasted no time climbing out of the water and hurrying back to her pile of clothes and newly acquired treasure. She was dressed from T-shirt to toes and wringing out her hair in a matter of minutes. Despite the humidity, the air was hot enough that her clothes would dry off soon enough, although her hair would kink up into the kind of snarling mess that only Raggedy Ann fans could appreciate. Funny how she’d grown up without being noticed—she’d always been a little too plump, a little too freckled, a little too into her books to turn heads. Now she was counting on that same anonymity to allow her to return to the farm without drawing any more attention to herself.
Pulling her phone from her lace-up work boot, she verified that she was, indeed, far enough out in the hills, away from the cell tower on the farm, that she had no service. So Silas hadn’t lied about his reason for tracking her down. She’d give Daryl a call as soon as she was in range, and then, even though an internet connection was spottier than cell reception in this part of the state, she’d try to get online and research some images to see if she could identify the object she’d found inside her father’s boat.
Putting off her amateur sleuthing for the time being, Melanie cut across to one of the many paths she and her father had explored when he’d been alive. She followed a dry creek bed around the base of the next hill and climbed toward the county road that bordered the north edge of the property.
As she’d hoped, she was able to get cell reception there, and she contacted her friend Daryl to go over the list of items she needed to restock her medical supplies. But it was taking so long to connect to the internet that she reached the main homestead and had to slip her phone into her hip pocket so that no one would see her trying to contact the outside world.
As the trees gave way to land cleared for farming, buildings, gravel roads and a parking lot, Melanie headed to the two-bedroom cottage she called home. But, instead of finding everyone going about their work for the day, she saw that a crowd had gathered near the front porch of her uncle’s two-story white house. She could hear the tones of an argument, although she couldn’t make out the words. Suddenly the crowd oohed and gasped as if cheering a hit in a softball game, and Melanie stopped. “What the heck?”
She changed course and headed to the main house, looking for a gap where she could get a clear view of whatever they were watching.
She spotted Silas near the bottom of the porch steps, slowly circling to his left, eyeing his unlucky target. What a surprise, discovering him in the vicinity of angry words. It was a fight, another stupid fight because somebody had ticked off Silas. More than likely, her cousin had turned him down for another date, and his opponent was merely the outlet for his wrath. Typically, her uncle didn’t allow the tourists visiting the bakery and craft shop to see any kind of dissension in the ranks of the people who lived
