Doranna Durgin - Survival Instinct

This was one opportunity that Karin would make come through. Look out, Longsford.

When the taxi arrived she directed it to her new destination, the Embassy Suites in Old Town. Maia Brenner checked into a room on the first floor at the end of the hall. Easy to come and go unseen. The place had everything she needed-the fridge, the microwave, the coffeemaker, a complimentary breakfast.

And the phones. She hadn’t had a chance to check in with Amy Lynn since leaving home the second time. Later she’d get herself a prepaid cell phone, but for now she’d eat the hotel long-distance charges. She flopped onto the suite’s sofa and pulled the phone close, dialing Amy Lynn’s number from memory.

“Be there,” she said to the phone after it rang three times. “Just be there.”

She was composing a voice-mail message in her head when the phone was snatched up, fumbled, and finally made it to someone’s ear. Amy Lynn’s breathless voice said, “Hello?”

“Thought I was going to miss you,” Karin told her.

“Ellen! Thank goodness. Are you okay?”

The question surprised her. She’d been okay when she left; Amy Lynn hadn’t known a thing about the night on the cliff. “I’m fine,” she said. “Is everything okay there?”

Amy Lynn hastened to reassure her with the understanding of a woman who also owned a bevy of farm animals. “The animals are fine,” she said. “Agatha’s milk is wonderful-you really should have me start it on cheese.”

“Drink it or sell it,” Karin said. No need to think twice about that one. Amy Lynn might think Karin was off wrapping up old business from before her move with plans to return imminently, but Karin herself no longer assumed she could pick up where she’d left off. “What about Dewey?”

“He’s fine.” Amy Lynn had caught her breath; her voice sounded more casual. “I adore him, as ever.”

Good thing. Karin knew he’d have a good home if she couldn’t get back to him. But she suddenly missed him, a great big unexpected wave of longing for a canine friend who’d at first been wary of her but now watched over her as if he’d always been hers, his tail wagging at every glance she gave him.

It wasn’t enough to deter her from what she’d first heard in her friend’s voice. “Something’s up,” she said. “Out with it.”

“Never could hide anything from you,” Amy Lynn grumbled. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on. First you leave, then you’re back and you’ve hurt your wrist, and then you’re off again. And I saw that car in your driveway.”

They’d had this talk before. The one where Karin made it clear that “Ellen” would gently decline to talk about the past she was trying to leave behind. “Amy Lynn-”

“Okay, okay. I’m not asking. I’m just telling you I’m not blind. Anyhow, this morning I went in to water plants and your answering machine had a message. I checked it-I thought it might be important.”

Sudden dread replaced the lingering homesickness. “Who was it?”

“Really weird, that’s what it was. Some guy named Gregg. Said he’d had some inquiries about you, and the attention would be a problem for him, and if it didn’t stop he’d come out to talk about it in person.”

Karin’s hand clenched on the phone. Cree-ap. Rumsey.

Longsford must have dug into Ellen’s past, probably even while they were dating. Might even have been why he stayed with her. Not only was she a nonconfrontational and unwitting ally in his disgusting personal pursuits, he probably felt he had the means to control her if she got out of hand. He probably didn’t realize that Ellen was the only one with nothing hanging over her head.

And now Longsford was looking for Ellen, so he’d gone to Rumsey. Karin could only imagine Rumsey’s rage-no con man wanted a spotlight shining his way. And the man was perfectly capable of turning down a finder’s fee if it meant he might gain that unwanted attention in the local community, just as he was perfectly capable of showing up at Ellen’s farm if he thought it would put an end to the inquiries.

“Ellen?” Amy Lynn sounded worried again. “Does the message mean anything to you? Do you know who it was?”

She kept her voice casual. “Just a strange little man from too many years ago,” she said. “No telling what got into his head. Don’t worry about it. He lives on the West Coast. There’s no chance he’ll just show up at your place.”

“Hmm,” Amy Lynn said. Then she offered, “That was my unconvinced noise. But the animals are all fine and the weather here is perfect. You’re gonna be sorry you missed it.”

“I’m already sorry I’m missing it,” Karin told her, somewhat more fervently than she’d planned. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. No doubt after I miss most of the spring planting.” She glanced at her watch and winced. The day would get away from her if she wasn’t careful. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll check in again as soon as I can. I should have a cell number for you the next time.”

“Alrighty. You’re gonna owe me for this one, you know.”

“Already do,” Karin said. “Tell your hubby ‘hey’ for me.”

“Will do. And Ellen…whatever’s going on, be careful, okay?”

“Nothing like that,” Karin said, putting the breeze back in her voice. “But I will.”

But when she hung up the phone she found herself staring at it balefully, as if it was at fault.

Rumsey, back in her life. Rumsey, the man who’d rigged those felony charges against her. Rumsey, the single person who could take one look at her and know exactly who she was.

Crap.

She changed into one of the suit outfits-the short skirt, barely there camisole and tailored jacket. It was a lean combination and it made her legs look impossibly long; the unusual chocolate brown shade brought out her contact-colored eyes. From her room she called a limo service and hired them for the day on Hunter’s credit card, requesting a luxury sedan and a driver who knew how to keep appearances.

She had the limo pick her up at a nearby flower shop, where she acquired several small daisies that she tucked into her hair above her ear. Put-together and yet confidently carefree, that was Maia Brenner. She leaned forward to hand the driver one of her Yellow Pages. “I need to visit some printers.”

“All of them?” he said in doubt. He was as advertised-trim and neatly dressed, one of those spare men who would never flesh out, his hair silvered at the edges of its conservative cut, his tie precisely knotted and his currently wrinkled brow holding just the right amount of deference for the question.

“That depends on how fast we find the right printer,” she said. “I’m looking for someone with high standards and creative, impeccable work on invitations and announcements.”

He gave a decisive nod. “That’s better, then. I can narrow that down for you.”

“That would be wonderful,” she said, using her warm Maia voice. “Also, I’ll need a driver frequently during my visits here. Would it be all right to ask for you?”

“It would be a pleasure, ma’am. You can ask for Bill Chantrey.” He put aside the Yellow Pages, checked his side view mirror and pulled smoothly into traffic.

“Please, Bill-may I call you Bill?-I’d feel much better if you called me Maia.”

“Miss Maia,” Bill allowed in a broad Coastal accent, unwittingly becoming part of her deliberate trail through town. Before she was done, she’d have him convinced she was throwing her own party, complete with the implication that the occasion would offer a select group of people an opportunity of some sort.

If Longsford checked her out-and he should-he’d learn just what she wanted him to. Maia Brenner was in town to do business, and if Longsford wanted in on it, he’d get the distinct impression he’d have to move fast.