Carla Neggers - Cold Ridge

But he had the worst taste, and when Carine scooted into the half bath, she wasn't that surprised to be greeted by a tropical oasis of parrots, frogs and palm trees. The design was garish and out of place, but neither would bother Gus-or Stump, his big part-black Lab, part-everything-else dog, who'd tried to follow her in.

When she returned to the kitchen, her uncle was stirring a bubbling pot of stew on the stove. He grinned over his shoulder at her. "Bathroom makes you think you're in the rain forest, doesn't it? I thought it'd be good during March and April, when you're sure you'll slit your throat if you see another snowflake."

"I wouldn't mind being in the rain forest right now," Carine said, smiling as she hugged him. "I've missed you, Uncle Gus."

He'd driven down to Boston a few times to visit her and Antonia, but it wasn't his favorite trip, especially if it didn't involve Celtics, Bruins or Red Sox tickets. Antonia barely knew which team played what sport. Now she was married to a senator-Hank Callahan was Manny's friend, too, a tidbit the media hadn't sunk their teeth into since Louis's murder but no doubt would. Carine expected it was only a matter of time.

Ty had retreated to add wood to the fire, obviously giving uncle and niece a chance to reconnect. Gus nodded in the direction of the front room. "How're you doing with him?"

"Okay. I thought about shoving him into traffic and being done with him, but-Gus, yesterday was so awful-"

"I know, honey. I'm sorry you had to go through that." He set his wooden spoon on the counter. "Being back up here'll help you get your bearings, even with North around."

"I hope you're right." She leaned over his bubbling pot. "Gus, what's that in the stew? The green stuff?"

"Christ, you sound like you did when you were six, always sticking your nose in my cooking." He picked up his spoon again, stirring gently. "It's okra. You know, that stuff they eat down south. I thought I'd toss some in, see if I liked it."

"I'm not sure okra's supposed to be in beef stew."

"It is now. Set the table, okay?"

They ate in the kitchen. The okra wasn't a big hit with Ty, who left it on the side of his plate and said it looked like something out of a swamp. They'd pulled through a fast-food place on their way to New Hampshire, but Carine hadn't eaten much. She ate two plates of Gus's stew, and after dinner, she brought a stack of Oreos out by the fire. She sat on the floor, her knees up, and when Gus and Ty joined her, she told them everything that had happened to her over the past day and a half, start to finish. About her lunch and how she hadn't thought about photographing wild turkeys, about Louis Sanborn asking her if she wanted a ride and the toddler chasing the pigeons on the Commonwealth Avenue mall-and finding Louis dead, what she saw and heard, how she'd run out of the house and straight into Manny Carrera.

She left nothing out, except for launching into bed with Tyler North. He knew, she knew and Gus didn't need to know.

When she finished, her uncle got up and put another log on the fire. "I want you to hear me out on one thing, Carine." He stared into the fire, not at her, and its flames reflected on his lined, lean face. "Don't try to pretend you didn't see a man you know dead in a pool of his own blood."

"Gus, please-"

"Don't fight it. Don't hide from it." He shifted his gaze, glancing down at her. "Give it time. You'll learn to live with the memory."

"I don't have any other choice."

"That's just it. You do have a choice."

He brought in more wood while she and Ty did the dishes. Carine washed, dipping her hands into the hot, sudsy water, trying to stay focused on the simple chore, the routines that reminded her of normalcy. She and her sister and brother used to take turns doing the dishes. In his various home improvements, Gus had never seen the need to buy a dishwasher.

She rinsed a handful of silverware under hot water and set it in the dish strainer. "You've seen dead men," she said. "Men you knew."

"Yes," Ty said.

"What do you do?"

He lifted out the silverware into a threadbare towel. "Focus on the job I'm there to do."

"That must be when all the years of training pay off. Do you think Manny misses the work?"

Ty opened a drawer and sorted the dry silverware into their appropriate slots. "I think Manny's eaten up inside."

After they finished the dishes, Carine put on her barn coat, noticing her reflection in the window. She didn't look as raw-nerved and traumatized as she had earlier, but she was exhausted. "It'll be good to sleep in my own bed tonight."

"Sorry, toots." Ty shook his head, shrugging on his brown leather jacket. "You don't have a guest room, and I'm not sleeping on your couch. Been there, done that. I don't fit, even without you."

"Ty-you can't be serious." Once she got to Cold Ridge, she thought she'd be on her own, at most with only Gus's hovering to deal with. "I'm home. I'm safe. It's okay-"

He wasn't listening. "I have three guest rooms, and there's a pullout sofa in the den. You can have your pick."

"I'm not in any danger!"

"Someone broke into your apartment today."

"We don't know that."

"You were first on the scene after a murder yesterday. We do know that. And we know the police haven't made an arrest and are, in fact, barking up the wrong tree for their man. So-" he zipped up his jacket "-it's my house or here with the parrots and the okra."

"Let's not make this Gus's problem."

"Suits me."

She was left to choose between bad and worse- staying with Gus and Stump was clearly worse. At least at North's place, if it came to actually staying there, which she hoped it wouldn't, she'd be within short walking distance of her cabin, and there wouldn't be dog hair on her blankets. "All right. Have it your way."

"I know you're not giving in, Carine," he said cockily. "You're buying time. You think you can talk me out of it before we get to my place. Put yourself in my position. What would you do?"

"Give me a nine-millimeter to put under my pillow."

"You might be good at flutter kicks, but a gun's a different story."

"Gus gave us basic firearms instruction when we were kids. I can shoot." But she didn't want a nine-millimeter-she wanted her life back, and she thought North knew it. "You're in your Three Musketeers mood,

Ty. I'm not going to fight you."

"Because you don't know what happened yesterday."

"No, because I do know what happened." Her barn coat, she realized, wasn't warm enough for the dropping nighttime mountain temperatures. "I hope the police don't focus on Manny for too long. Whoever killed Louis-" She swallowed, feeling a fresh wave of uneasiness, even fear. "I don't want anyone else to end up dead. That's all I care about. Just catch whoever killed Louis, and make sure no one else gets hurt."

Ty nodded. "Fair enough."

Gus appeared in the kitchen doorway. "You two leaving? Carine, I'm here if you need me. Got that?"

"I know, Gus. Thanks. I love you."

"Love you, too, kid." His tone hardened. "North? You'll be wanting Carine looking better tomorrow morning, not worse."

A neat trick that'd be, Carine thought, but said nothing as she followed her ex-fiancé outside, the night clear, cold and very dark. But without the ambient light of the city, she could see the stars.

By the time they reached his house, Ty noticed that Carine was ashen, sunken-eyed, drained and distant. He'd watched the energy ooze out of her during their ride out from the village, along the dark, winding road to his place, the ridge outlined against the starlit sky, a full moon creating eerie shadows in the open meadow that surrounded the old brick house her ancestor had built.

He suddenly felt out of his element. What the hell was he doing? Even with the dangers and uncertainties of a combat mission, he would know exactly what was expected of him, exactly what he was supposed to do. Right now, nothing made sense.