Josh glanced toward the forest line, readily visible in the silvery glow of the moon. “It’s amazing to think some of those trees have been around a hundred years or more.”
“It is. I own the cottage and the property, but I look at these trees and the concept of ownership just doesn’t make sense. Many were here long before I was born and most will be here long after I’m gone.”
He gathered her close to him as they made their way back to the cottage.
That night, with her thoughts on Josh, she had no trouble drifting into sleep.
In the morning, she dressed for comfort in a pair of black leggings, thick wool socks and an oversize white shirt. She spent the morning on an assignment. This time it wasn’t for Pinnacle Communications—the assignments from them were dwindling, which concerned her greatly. This one was from Arlene Greenberg’s company. With Josh’s encouragement, she was giving freelancing for Elite Consulting a shot. She was glad to have the income opportunity but was nervous about proving herself. She wanted to do a good job for Arlene, and she wanted to complete the assignment ahead of schedule. When she finished, she’d get back to Daniel’s files.
Midmorning, the telephone rang and she considered not answering as she didn’t want to interrupt the flow of what she was doing but ended up reaching for the receiver.
“What do you think you’re doing?” The voice on the phone was harsh and accusatory. The caller needed no introduction, though. It was Richard. While Emma’s heart rate spiked and her palms turned clammy, she forced a tone of cool nonchalance.
“Richard, we don’t have anything to discuss. Did you misdial?”
Her sarcastic response, no doubt unexpected, fueled his ire. “Don’t joke around, Emma,” he said, his voice raised.
She held the phone away from her ear for a moment and took three long, calming breaths before responding. She would not let Richard know the effect he was having on her. “If you’re going to yell at me, I’ll hang up.”
Richard’s anger flared, and a series of abrasive words spewed forth.
“Richard. I’m hanging up.”
“Okay. Wait...” He continued in a more controlled voice. “I’m calling because we’re aware you’re working with Leighton from the Advocate.”
How would he know that? She took another deep breath and switched the phone to her other ear. She wouldn’t let him intimidate her despite all her insecurities rearing up. She wouldn’t admit anything to Richard, but she wondered if, instead, she would be able to get some information that might be helpful for Daniel. Thinking quickly, she turned on a small tape recorder that she had on her desk for capturing her creative ideas for her assignments. “What makes you say that?”
“Don’t play games.” The anger simmered in his voice, but she could tell he was trying to curb it. “We know you met with Leighton.”
Who was he referring to by we? He and Morgan? “Why would it have anything to do with Morgan?”
“Don’t be obtuse.”
Emma squeezed her eyes shut. Richard’s caustic words could still cut her to the bone.
“We know you have his files,” he continued.
How was that possible? The person watching Daniel? She felt an adrenaline rush. Was she being watched, too?
“But that’s not the point,” Richard continued. “The point is you’re still bound by the confidentiality provisions of the agreement you signed. If you breach the agreement, we will take legal action.” He paused. She could hear his ragged breathing. “I will go after you, Emma. Don’t delude yourself. What we had together won’t shield you. You have no idea what you’re getting involved in. You sacrificed our relationship and your job because you didn’t want to be involved. Stay uninvolved.”
Is that how he remembered it? That she was the one to walk away from him and her job? The bitterness she felt surprised her, but she had no doubt he meant what he said about taking action against her. Thinking of the brunette she’d seen him with that last night in NYC, she wanted to ask what exactly they’d had together, but caught herself. “Trust me, Richard. I wouldn’t expect ‘our time together’ to influence you in any way.” Having brought to mind what they’d once shared, when she’d seen some decency in him, Emma decided to challenge him. “Richard, how can you stay involved? If the ethics don’t concern you, what about the loss of a soldier’s life? You must know about that, since it’s been in the papers.”
She could hear his breathing again and the sound of a glass being slapped down on wood.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Emma. You wanted out? Stay out. If you don’t, I’ll be the least of your worries.”
She felt her own annoyance mount, and glanced at her recorder to make sure it was still capturing their discussion. “Is that a threat, Richard?”
“Stay out of it, Emma,” he repeated before the line went dead. She placed the receiver back in its cradle with exaggerated care before shutting off the recorder, her hands not quite steady.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
JOSH PACED EMMA’S office that evening as he listened to the recording of Emma’s telephone conversation with her ex. He didn’t like what he was hearing. The threat was loud and clear. Josh tended to take most things in stride, but he had fury in him over the ex-fiancé’s treatment of Emma. Richard had caused enough harm to her in the past, and he obviously could still affect her. Emma seemed meeker than he’d seen her in a while. Her ex had no right to treat her the way he had.
After Emma switched off the recorder, Josh pulled a chair up close to face her. Taking her hands into his, he felt the chilled dampness of her palms. “I’m tempted to say ignore him, because it’s you I’m worried about, Emma. Morgan will already be facing the consequences for the wrongdoing and the company executives will, no doubt, be held accountable for the defective rifles. Maybe that’s enough.”
She glanced down at their joined hands. “I’m grateful for your concern...and support. But I made a commitment and I need to follow through.” She lifted her gaze to his. “If it was only about money, I’d probably stop.” Her voice softened. “But it’s not. It’s about the soldier who lost his life. As for Richard...” She sucked in a huge gulp of air. “He’s pushed me around enough. I’m not going to let him do it again.”
Josh searched her face, the depth of her stormy gray eyes and knew there was nothing he could or should say to deter her. He was proud of her for taking a stand against her ex. Isn’t that what he’d been hoping to help her do? Get back her self-confidence and strength?
He drew her toward him and kissed her. There was no gentleness in the kiss this time, borne of the frustration and anger he felt over all that she’d had to endure.
* * *
JOSH ACCOMPANIED EMMA to Private Laurence’s funeral. Emma wore a simple black dress with a black coat over it. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Josh was also dressed in black out of respect for the deceased. They arrived a half an hour before the service was scheduled to begin and took seats at the back of the church.
By the time the service started, the church was filled to capacity, and the crowd overflowed to the parking lot. The media remained respectfully outside.
It was obvious that Private Laurence was well liked and respected. And, of course, the military turned out in full force. A good portion of those present were in uniform. There were many moving eulogies, but none more poignant than the one delivered by the soldier’s father. Mr. Laurence spoke haltingly, pausing often to dab at his eyes with a handkerchief. He talked about a young man who was the light of his and his wife’s lives. A selfless young man who would do anything for a friend, a stranger or the country he loved so much.
Mr. Laurence was perhaps in his mid-fifties, but his grief made him look considerably older than his years. He had to be escorted off the podium when he ultimately fell apart.
B
y the conclusion of the service, Emma’s cheeks were moist, like everyone else’s. “He was so young,” she murmured to Josh. “He didn’t deserve what happened to him.”
They filed out of the church and were heading to the parking lot when someone called Emma’s name. Josh recognized the reporter, Daniel Leighton, from the photo accompanying his articles. He was with a pretty redhead. Emma tensed and Josh draped his arm protectively around her shoulders as they waited for the couple to reach them.
“Josh, this is Daniel Leighton, from the New York Advocate,” she said.
Josh shook Daniel’s hand. Daniel introduced his fiancée, Jenna Walsh.
“Emma, I’d like you to meet someone.” At the hesitant look on her face, he added, “Trust me, please?”
She nodded and Daniel excused himself. He returned a few minutes later with a young man in a wheelchair, a black Labrador retriever by his side.
“Emma, Josh, this is Specialist Samuel Reading. He was injured a couple of weeks ago. He has nerve damage, which has caused paralysis in his left leg, but it’s hoped that that can be fixed. He also lost sight in one eye and mostly in the other. This is Sailor,” he said, pointing to the dog. “He’s a seeing-eye dog, trained and provided to Specialist Reading through the Operation Pawsitive Change Foundation. The organization provides service dogs, therapy dogs and companion dogs to veterans. Sailor will be Specialist Reading’s eyes from now on.”
Specialist Reading reached out and groped around until he touched Sailor’s head and gave them a weak smile. “It’s hard to imagine that I’m the lucky one...but under the circumstances, I have to remind myself that I am.”
“Emma,” Daniel continued slowly. “We believe Specialist Reading’s injury was a result of the failure of another one of American Freedom Munition’s rifles. Before the recall was complete.”
“I understand from Daniel that you refused to work for Senator Morgan when you’d learned about what he’d done with respect to the contract award,” Specialist Reading said. “I want to thank you for that.”
“I couldn’t have done anything else,” Emma murmured.
“Well, a lot of people wouldn’t have done what you did, and I appreciate it.”
“I’m—”
Whatever Emma was about to say, a sudden commotion distracted her.
Private Laurence’s family was being escorted from the church by police in an attempt to hold the media scrum at bay. They were moving at a quick pace through the crowd gathered outside the church and were headed in their direction. Daniel was about to step back to clear a path but wasn’t quick enough. To shift out of the way of another reporter, Mr. Laurence bumped into Daniel. Nearly losing his balance, he reached out and grabbed Daniel to steady himself. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled apologetically and turned devastated eyes to Daniel. Those eyes narrowed, his body straightened and Josh could tell from the whitening of his knuckles that he’d tightened his grip on Daniel’s arm.
“It’s you,” he hissed. “You wrote that article about my son.”
“Yes, sir. I’m Daniel Leighton. I’m very sorry for your—”
“You’re sorry?” Mr. Laurence’s voice grew in strength and intensity. “You knew about this before my son lost his life.”
The media scrum had stopped its forward progress when Laurence had, and now surrounded not only Laurence, but also Daniel, Jenna, Emma, Josh and Specialist Reading and his dog.
One of the police officers placed his hand lightly on Laurence’s back. “Let’s go, sir. This way, please.”
The tired, defeated man they’d watched on the podium was now filled with raw emotion. “Hold on,” he snapped and turned his attention back to Daniel. “If you would have made public what you knew sooner, you could have prevented it. My son’s death was avoidable. It’s on your head.”
Daniel’s complexion turned ashy white and his eyes were huge and round with shock. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Mr. Laurence,” Daniel stammered, ineffectually. “I promise you, I will continue to do what I can to get the truth out and I will cooperate fully with the—”
“You will cooperate?” Laurence exploded in a rage. Neither the police officer nor Laurence’s wife could get him to calm down. He brushed them away. “My son is dead! My only child. You could’ve gone to the authorities with what you had sooner instead of being concerned about your story.”
Another police officer stepped forward and tried to help his colleague steer Laurence away. The media was recording it all. Laurence’s wife was in the arms of another family member, quietly crying.
“I’ll remember this. I’ll never forgive you.” He stared hard at Daniel before taking a long, measured look at the others. He glanced down at Specialist Reading. His anger dissipated and grief resurfaced as the officers finally led him away.
“Parents should never have to bury their children,” were his final words, spoken in a weak, broken voice.
Josh glanced at Daniel, who stood pale and dazed as the media continued to swarm around them.
Josh took charge. After saying goodbye to Specialist Reading, whose father had stepped up behind him when the commotion had started, he herded them all toward the parking lot. He had no idea where Daniel’s car was, but he didn’t care. Under the circumstances, he thought it best if he and Emma took them home. He didn’t think Daniel was up to driving. They could make arrangements to pick up their car some other time.
Josh led Daniel by the arm, and Emma followed, helping Jenna as they weaved between the parked cars.
As they skirted a van, Emma nearly collided with a man about to get into his vehicle. She gasped and Josh turned just as the man reached for Emma. Josh’s arm snaked out lightning-fast, and he yanked the man back by the collar of his coat.
“What the hell?” the man exclaimed and swung out at Josh, but Josh had longer arms and held tight.
“Josh, let him go.”
He looked at her, perplexed.
“It’s Richard,” she whispered. “My ex-fiancé.”
Josh gave Richard a hard look before releasing him.
Richard tugged his coat into place and combed his hair back with his fingers. Slim and disheveled, he certainly didn’t look the way Emma had described him.
Josh started to lead Emma away but Richard clasped her arm again. “Can’t you just stay out of it?” he hissed at her.
Josh could smell the alcohol on his breath.
“What’s happened to you, Richard?” Emma murmured. She gestured with her hand. “You look... You don’t look like you used to.”
He waved away that comment. “I won’t lose this opportunity because of you.”
“What opportunity? The partnership with your firm?”
Before he could answer, Josh stepped closer and Richard glared at him. “Keep your hands off me,” he said to Josh, letting go of Emma’s arm and pushing past them. “Don’t ask for trouble, Emma,” he warned, before stalking away.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
EMMA STARED AT Daniel’s files lackadaisically. She’d spent very little time with them in the two weeks since Private Laurence’s funeral. She wished she could think of something useful, but she’d resolved there was likely very little she could do. Leafing through the files just brought an ache to her heart.
She hadn’t accepted any new assignments to work on, either. Not from Pinnacle or from Arlene Greenberg’s company. On the bright side, she and Josh had taken Daisy to a nature reserve, where she could be monitored for a period of time before being released. Reportedly, she was doing well and she was where she belonged.
Emma prowled around the cottage listlessly. She had begun to question the wisdom of what she was doing. How foolish was it for her to think she could be of any help to Daniel? And even more so to think she could earn sufficient income doing freelance work. Was she destined to fail at ev
erything she tried?
And living in Sanctuary Cove? How realistic was that? If she couldn’t earn enough, she wouldn’t be able to stay. She should seriously consider moving back to New York City and finding a full-time job with a salary, she told herself. Something that she could do competently. If her savings were depleted too much, she might not even be able to afford to keep the cottage for the weekends.
Maybe Richard had been right about her all along.
The one thing that had brought her some pleasure was researching the Operation Pawsitive Change Foundation. She’d been touched by the little black Lab, Sailor, who would be Samuel Reading’s eyes for the rest of the dog’s life. She read about the wonderful work that the foundation did, and how they acquired and trained their dogs. She’d wondered if that might be something she could do at some point.
Dressed in loose-fitting yoga pants and an old college sweatshirt, her hair down and disheveled, she stood at a window watching a great blue heron glide just above the surface of the water. She didn’t know why the graceful beauty of the heron made her want to cry.
It was an unusually beautiful late November day. The sky was clear and cerulean blue, the air crisp and still. While a few tenacious leaves still clung to branches, most now formed a thick, brown tapestry on the ground. A thin sheen of moisture glistened on their surface, a remnant from the early morning frost.
Emma knew there were going to be few more—if any—days like this before the snow fell. Her mood might not have matched the weather, but she considered it a shame not to take advantage of it.
She wanted both dogs accompanying her for the walk in the woods, but she’d noted that morning that the change in weather was affecting Theo. He was favoring his leg that had the plate in it. Although she generally stayed on the forest trails, they were uneven and arduous. She hated to leave Theo, but she decided it was best for him to stay indoors to avoid aggravating the discomfort or possibly reinjuring his leg.
Not above bribery, Emma offered Theo a new chew toy to gnaw on while she and Max were gone. With a world-weary sigh, Theo took it to the great room and settled down on the rug with his prize.