Part 14 (1/2)
The Aqua Horizon Spa and Inn had been constructed along a cliff, and designed to make the most of the majestic red rock formations and sweeping valley vistas below. It faced south, so it always caught the sun, and the building exteriors, the native plants, and the graveled paths blended into the desert atmosphere with warmth and sensitivity.
Fists clenched at her sides, Karen walked along the trail away from the sprawling, five-story hotel structure. As soon as she was out of sight of the windows she ran, ran as hard as she could toward her cottage at the edge of the grounds. Stepping in, she shut the door behind her and leaned against it.
Usually the eggsh.e.l.l blue walls, cool cream tile floors, and framed Jack Vettriano prints in the studio apartment soothed her, but now nothing could wipe the shock from her mind.
It was him.
Wasnat it?
It couldnat be coincidence that Rick Wilderas game was called Warlord.
Could it?
No. It couldnat.
She pulled her suitcase out from under the bed. She kept it packed with good walking shoes, underwear, and sensible clothes, always ready for the moment when she had to flee.
Because although it had been two years since shead walked away without a backward glance, leaving Warlord to battle for his life, she still believed that someday he could reappear and claim her again.
Somehow, someday, I will come for you.
Going to the safe in the closet, she opened it and pulled out her pa.s.sport. Then, more slowly, she retrieved the icon painted with the Madonna. For one vital second she stared at the painting. She remembered the child who had protected the icon for a thousand years, the way her eyes had opened and looked at Karen before her frail body crumbled to dust. And although Karen did not want to believe, every morning when she looked in the mirror and saw those same eyes looking right back at her, she knew the child had pa.s.sed custody of the icon to her.
She had to protect the Madonna.
But she had a life, too, and she needed to protect her own freedom. Grabbing the framed photo of her mother off the table, she placed the picture and the icon in a padded, zippered container and stowed them in the bottom of the bag. She wrapped the gla.s.s bell shead bought in Italy in a lace shawl shead bought in Spain, and tucked them in one of the side pockets. Then she zipped it all closed and placed it by the door.
She slid her backpack out from under the bed. That contained all the necessities to maintain life in the wildernessa”freeze-dried foods, a flashlight, a waterproof poncho, a canteen. A quick visit to her tiny kitchen and she had a selection of Bakeras Breakfast Cookies added to her larder, and she was ready to go.
A knock made her swing around to stare at the door as if a rattlesnake stood on the other side. Or Warlord, which was even worse.
”Miss Karen, itas Dika!” the maid sang out.
Fifty-year-old Dika Petulengro had come to work there not long after Karen arrived. She cleaned the two dozen guest cottages that were scattered across the grounds, spoke English with a Russian accent, had beautiful dark brown eyes surrounded by long, dark lashes, and liked everyone. Karen considered her one of the kindest people shead ever meta”but she didnat trust her. Mingma had taught her to be wary.
More important, Karen didnat need a witness to her flight. So she placed her body to block the view and opened the door. ”Dika, could you come back in a half hour?” Which gave her time to get to her car and get the h.e.l.l out.
”Because you have that beautiful man in here?” Dika craned her neck to see around Karen, and her eyes widened. ”No. Not a man, a suitcase!”
”Iam doing a little packing for my vacation,” Karen said.
Dika b.u.mped the door with her ample hip and knocked it out of Karenas hand. ”No, Miss Karen, look. You have packed your pretty gla.s.s. The lace mantilla you drape across your dresser is gone.” She looked hard at Karen. ”And you have that look in your eyes.”
”What look?”
”The look of a refugee forced to flee again.”
Somehow Dika recognized the expression.
Karen set her chin.
”Okay, I help you.” Dika pushed her way in and shut the door behind her. ”But first tell me why. Why are you afraid?”
”One of the guests . . . reminds me of someone.”
”Mr. Wilder?”
Karen grew very still. ”How do you know?”
”The staff is gossiping, of course.” Dika shrugged. ”They said you looked enthralled with the man, but I think maybe they mistake fright for enthrallment.”
Karen nodded stiffly. She hated admitting to this overwhelming panic, but Dika seemed to understand.
”Sometime, he mistreated you? Maybe he is your husband?”
”No. And no. I mean, Mr. Wilder is definitely not my husband, and Iam not even sure heas the guy I think he might be.” That sounded crazy, Karen knew, so she tried to explain. ”The other guy . . . his eyes were black.”
”Black. All black? No color?”
”Thatas right. At first I thought it was drugs, but then I realized he was . . . that somehow he . . .”
”He was the devilas own,” Dika suggested.
”Yes,” Karen burst out. Of course. Dika understood. She had come from the Ukraine, from a land as wild and peculiar as the Himalayas. ”Mr. Wilder is not him. His eyes are light green, beautiful and not at all frightening. ”
Dika nodded.
”He indicated that he was interested in me, but it seemed nothing more than any other guy.”
”This man, Mr. Wilder, might be . . . You fear him?”
”Yes.”
Dika thought for a moment. ”You have b.i.t.c.h beer in the refrigerator?”
”A couple.”
”Iall open them.” Dika indicated the patio door, then bustled to the refrigerator. ”Go outside and sit. We need to talk.”
”I need to leave.”
”First we talk. Then, if you wish, I will help you leavea”and I know the secret ways to go.”
That made sense. That made a lot of sense. And something about Dikaas matter-of-factness calmed Karenas panic and made her think more clearly.
She opened her patio door and went out into the warm, dry air. The encircling wrought-iron fence was thick with shrubs and vines, giving her privacy and the illusion of coolness, and the chairs were made of lightweight blue fabric and reclined to weightlessness.
Behind her the door opened and closed, and Dika thrust an icy beer into Karenas hand. She seated herself with all the a.s.surance of a seasoned counselor and said, ”So you donat know if heas actually the one.”