Twenty

T he sun's rays brightened her room, and crisp air flowed around her. Chirping birds overplayed the gurgling creek, and a sigh escaped as Anna hugged her arms around herself and stood in the open doorway overlooking the magical world waiting for her. "It's like a fairytale, too good to be true."

Then a shiver ran through her, not from the cold, clean air. As if she were a modern fairytale princess, villains lurked in the shadows waiting, their identities hidden. Who exactly? Manipulative Martha? The dark knight at the hotel and airplane lurking in the shadows? The conniving prince poisoning her drinks? Or was it the imperious king himself?

Anna slipped on a moss-green T-shirt with some jeans and fought the urge to bounce down the stairs. She didn't see Wyatt, but a whiff of French toast, butter, and syrup beckoned her to the kitchen. French toast waited under a plate intended to keep it warm. She picked up the note atop it.

Good morning.

I went fishing just down the hill. Help yourself to breakfast. There's coffee in the pot. Once you're done, join me. See you soon.

Wyatt

Her pulse raced. Giddy as a teenager on her first date, she poured some coffee, then ate, and cleaned up after herself. The door banged closed as she rushed outside. Tossing her Texas jacket over her arm, she headed down the worn path and dodged rocks and small critters past the trees. The trees stopped near the creek, and the bright sunbeams flashed into her eyes. The scent of pine traveled with the cool breeze. She meandered along, her hand shielding her eyes.

Then Wyatt approached in a baseball cap, carrying three good-sized trout on a string. Oh my! Could he be better looking? She sucked in a quick breath.

"Breathe, girl. Breathe," she whispered to herself.

"Good morning!" he hollered, his teeth sparkling in the sun.

"Thank you for making breakfast. What time did you get up?"

"Didn't look at the clock. I make it a point to disconnect out here. Limited phone and no schedule. I've always enjoyed mornings."

"Find your own treasure in life's moments," her mother's voice overplayed Wyatt's. Hmm. The mountains must be stirring Anna's memories like a slow-boiling pot.

They strolled alongside the creek, skipping flat rocks on smooth water. How easy to relax around him. He felt familiar. With good reason to be wary, to stay clear, her mind urged caution, demanding her heart remain strong. But it wouldn't listen.

An eagle soared overhead, its white head contrasting with the blue sky. "Look at its nest up in that tree." Wyatt pointed. The eagle glided in circles, its shadow swooping along their path.

"Your sister doesn't have extra sunglasses here, does she?" Anna teased with a bump against his shoulder as they entered the cabin.

He glanced up with a longing look. "Let me see." He strode into the downstairs guest room. Drawers creaked and groaned as he searched through the desk for a spare set. Then he hoisted an old pair of aviators. "Aha, victory."

The sun was straight up with no clouds, bringing the temperature along. Anna headed to her room and changed into khaki shorts and a cooler white shirt. Wyatt set up a work area by the pool's soothing waterfall with cozy cushioned chairs and a glass-topped table.

She carried two glasses of iced tea outside, one in each hand, and set them beside the pen and notepad he'd placed before both chairs. Sunlight bounced off the pool, sparkling so brightly she squished her eyes closed and almost bumped into the table. If only she could pretend things were different!

"I'd love to stay here and relax, but we both know why I'm in Idaho. Atticus's health could fail at any time." The chair legs grated the patio stones as she pulled it out. "Disturbing events continue to follow me. I must get to the bottom of this."

He sipped his iced tea, then twisted the glass in his hand, wiping off condensation. "It does seem like trouble's stalking you."

"I'll start with my mother since this all ties to her." She flattened her palms against the table's glass top. "I don't remember much of the funeral. Mother wanted the ceremony simple, just a couple of her favorite songs. After the service, Sandy mentioned Grandville and that I was welcome anytime. I was going in circles—unfocused. When I couldn't bring myself to face my college classmates and professors, I wanted to sell off the house, pay some of the medical bills, and take some time to grieve. I couldn't pretend that everything was the same—that nothing had happened. Everyone handles grief in their own way, I guess. I needed a break and a fresh start. Although, I will admit my stint at the diner couldn't come to an end soon enough."

"Wow. I can see the return to school being difficult. I had a tough time after my mom passed."

"It's the worst, right?" They were connected. Her heart swelled. "I know many people do it. I'm not proud of withdrawing. I wish I was stronger. My mother drew on something deep within her. I'm trying. Maybe that's one positive about the grind at the diner. Working there has toughened me up."

"You're stronger than you realize." He let the words linger. "Okay." He set his glass down, scooted his chair closer, and picked up the notepad. "Let's create a list with three columns. We'll list their name, their suspicion status, and a note if needed. Sandy, I presume, should be a no?"

"Absolutely." Anna drew her notepad closer, her steamy palm print fading on the glass surface. "So that's one down."

"Right." Wyatt made a note.

"I don't care for Mr. Gray's personality or how he treats people. Still, I doubt he'd be part of anything complicated or sinister. He likes his routine and little kingdom. He's not going to jeopardize that." She bit the corner of a fingernail, then lowered her hand after a few seconds. "The only part that didn't fit was him allowing Rowan to work there and his dramatic attitude change when I was injured. But you cleared that up."

An eagle cried overhead. She shaded her eyes to watch its flight. "What about Rowan? Do you trust him?"

Wyatt tapped his pen against where he wrote Rowan's name. "He's more of a follower, and I supported Greta when she suggested he take that job. He kept me informed and seemed scared when you got hurt, but his vague reporting after the incident bothered me. He should be considered since he was there and the timing works. We'll rule out Gray and Sandy but put Rowan in the maybe column. Who's next?"

"Martha. She's involved in everything and erratic. She has some kind of weird attraction to Atticus and might be delusional. I don't understand her role, but her fingerprints are everywhere. She insists she found the letter at Atticus's house and it was from him, but I'm not so sure. What do you know about her?"

Feeling strangely constrained, Anna untucked her green shirt from her shorts and flapped the hem to let air onto her skin. Still, her stomach rubbed against the band, and a sweat rose on her skin. Why had Martha chosen Wyatt when he didn't work for Atticus?

A trained professional, he didn't give much away with his facial expressions. "I know her because of the relationship between Greta and Atticus. Honestly, Martha is the closest person to Atticus, even closer than he was to Greta."

"What makes you say that?" She folded her arms across her chest, sinking back into the plush deck chair.

"Well…" He rubbed his forehead, then flicked a hunk of tousled hair back. "She's always at events, ya know? Anything involving him also involves Martha. I don't know how long she's worked for him, but it seems like always. I'm usually dealing with her during the transactions between Alan Corp and his companies. She's tough and willing to do what it takes—a pit bull for Atticus."

Anna sparked. "I've gathered her loyalty to him is… unquestionable ."

"Martha goes into the maybe column with a side note about the calls. Why did she start making them? All my interactions with Martha included Atticus and his approval. He's ill, yes, but I still can't imagine she'd do anything without his knowledge. Plus, how did she get the letter to you?"

"I also wondered about that." She tried to think about the letter and how it ended up in her purse after the first attack. She rehashed the attack for him.

"That was the morning after the call. If they were there for me, they knew when I was coming, knew my schedule. Granted, it's posted outside the kitchen in a hallway by the public restrooms. I've complained about that to Mr. Gray, but as you can imagine, he might've even kept it there because I complained."

He leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "Did you see who was in the room? Do you remember anything about him at all?"

"Nothing, until I heard him moving. I turned, a shadowed form came toward me, and I was knocked to the floor. I was flattened by a man, so it couldn't have been Martha. She hired someone to give me the letter. Someone who was supposed to be reliable, someone Atticus had used before. She said I wasn't supposed to be harmed. She didn't give me his name."

"Martha again." He added a check next to her name, then reached over, and rested his hand on Anna's. "It's hard for me to hear all this. I feel partly responsible since I'm the one who mentioned your location to Greta. I'm sorry you've gone through so much—truly."

A delicious warmth spread through her, starting at the brush of his fingers. She slid her hand free, trying to stay focused right now, and he had a way of distracting her. "Could the man at the diner be the same man who was on the plane? His shape seemed a little different, but I didn't see much in that dark room."

"Is that when the letter was put into your purse?"

"If the intruder was there when I got there and then ran out, I don't know when they could've done it. Someone was there almost the entire time."

Wyatt wrote "intruder" and put a question mark next to it. "What was next?"

The letter. Her purse. The hospital. Her body tensed. She pushed back from the table. "I need a break—to make a call—check with a friend. There's cell service somewhere around here?"

"Not reliable. Without a local carrier, it's spotty. Use the landline. There's a phone in your room." He stood as well and reached as if to grasp her hand again, but he lowered his when she tucked hers behind her. "Is something wrong?"

She wasn't sure if they were ready for a discussion about Garrett at this point, but the letter's timing troubled her. Once she spoke with him, she could decide the next move.

"Are you going to stay out here? I'll be back in a bit." Her calf cramped, and she pressed her toe down when she stood up.

"I've been sitting for a while, and I'll stretch my legs. Then let's prepare an early dinner instead of lunch and dinner. How's that sound?"

"Great with me. I'll make a tossed salad or get some asparagus started if you cook the fish. I've never cooked trout and might ruin your fresh catch." A pinch in her stomach made her twist.

"Sounds like a plan. We'll meet in the kitchen in about an hour."

Wyatt walked down the hill, his movements rigid. The gate that kept animals out of the yard and pool creaked open, echoing up to the cabin. Once he turned onto the path along the creek, she carried both tea glasses into the house. She preferred to avoid an uncomfortable situation of him listening to her conversation with Garrett. Call it paranoid, but she was getting that way.

Upstairs, she first checked for cell service. Having none, she found the number in her contacts, dialed Garrett on the landline, and dropped onto the edge of the bed. The plush white duvet pillowed around her, its billows like downy clouds against the turquoise-sky walls.

"Hello." First ring again.

"Garrett, this is Anna."

"Anna? Oh, I didn't recognize the number. The caller ID's for a Wyatt Stone. Is he a relative?"

That was Garrett—direct and not playing games.

"He's a family friend, and I'm in the mountains with spotty cell service. There's a landline, so we have communication if the cell phones don't work."

"Is everything okay?"

"Like I said, we don't have cell service. I couldn't see if you'd tried to call." All true.

"Is everything working out with your family? When will you be back?"

"I'm not sure. Things are… complicated." Yeah, that was the word. She stifled a snort. "The timing isn't ironed out yet. There was something I wanted to ask. Garrett, is it possible someone placed something in my purse at the hospital?"

"I guess anything is possible. Nurses and staff are in and out of the rooms. What type of item?" Always direct.

"An envelope. It was in my bag when Misty took me to the house. Now I'm beginning to wonder if it happened at the hospital."

"Well, they are still trying to sort things out, so I didn't want to alarm you for no reason. But something kind of unusual happened during the time you stayed."

"What do you mean?" And why didn't you mention it?

"There was an administrative review of the charts, cameras, and records. They discovered someone stole a nurse's uniform out of the locker room and used it to dress up like a nurse. She went into a couple of rooms. One of them was yours. I was only looped in on part of it, but I confess that's why I was taking my break in your room when you woke up that time. It kinda creeped me out, so I wanted to watch over you." He let out a low breath. "I'm glad it happened, though. I may never have noticed you as more than a patient otherwise."

Stay focused, girl . "What was the name of the nurse she impersonated?"

"Rita."

"Rita?" Anna whispered. Could it get any more bizarre? "That was my nurse. I remember her during the night. I saw her name on her uniform."

"Like I said, yours was one of her rooms, the only one we knew the imposter entered. She could've accessed your purse. I don't know what else she did or why."

Anna sat up straighter, her free hand fisting up wads of the duvet. Did "Rita" look familiar? The room was dark during the night. The nurse was an older woman, her hair pinned back. Was she Martha? Anna pressed a hand to her queasy stomach. Was she being played at every turn?

"Thank you, Garrett. That's useful. I'm trying to put some pieces together, and this helps."

"What can I do? What's wrong? Should I come there? Are you in Idaho?"

Caller ID was kind of a tattletale. If you wanted to be private, you needed that "unknown" feature Martha used.

A door screeched open and clicked shut downstairs.

"I'm okay. Truly. Please don't worry. I appreciate you answering the phone and thank you for being honest."

"I'll always be honest with you. I miss you."

How could her heart not melt more every time she spoke to this man? "Thank you, Garrett."

I miss you. Did he mean her, or was he unconsciously mixing her up with his deceased fiancée?

It'd be nice to be missed.

"Bye, Anna. Please take care."

They hung up. She pulled herself together and headed downstairs to help with an early dinner.

But what was going on? She was a normal person going about a regular job. She didn't do anything exciting or adventurous. Why were these events happening to her?

It didn't make sense.

Or maybe…

Maybe that was the question. Why her?