PROLOGUE
As the silence in the room uncomfortably hovered in the air, Cary
Riley stared pass the woman’s perfectly coifed black hair
and out the glass window. Even though she kept a professional smile
on her face, he could tell his behavior frustrated her which was
his reason for silence in the first place. Cary liked to read people.
His life depended on his ability to predict a person’s thoughts
by watching their body movements, listening to their unspoken words,
and observing their little, uncontrollable facial expressions.
Dr. Lydia Myers was frustrated because after spending ten hours,
over the last two weeks, with Special Agent Cary Riley, she still
could not understand him. Cary didn’t want her or anyone
else to ever understand him.
“I think you need to take a vacation,” Lydia finally
said, since they both knew Cary would not break the silence.
“I don’t want a vacation,” was his only response.
He met her eyes, daring her to contradict him.
He should have known the Group would pick psychiatrists who weren’t
easily intimidated. “This is for your own good, Cary. Your
last assignment was very difficult, both emotionally and physically.
You need time to rest, to think, to be a normal person for a little
while. You need to clear your head.”
Cary shook his head but knew she already won. Dr. Myers would
tell the Director of the Group, Maurice Iverson, and Iverson would
order Cary to take a leave of absence. “I don’t even
know where to go,” he protested lamely.
“You could go home,” she suggested softly.
Cary quickly shook his head, feeling one of his headaches start.
The heavy throb usually began behind his left ear then traveled
behind his eyes and finally rested in the center of his forehead. “That’s
not an option.”
Dr. Myers uncertainly glanced towards the closed door then opened
her desk drawer. He looked at, but didn’t touch, the colorful
brochure she placed on top of her desk. “I know this is against
procedure but . . . My husband and I were planning to vacation
here for our three-year anniversary. It’s a small inn in
Northern California, very quiet. I think you’d enjoy it.”
Cary picked up the brochure and stared at the white, sprawling
house pictured on the front page. Hadley’s Inn was written
across the top of the page in elegant, cursive. “Hadley’s
Inn,” he murmured more to himself than her. He finally looked
at Dr. Myers and nodded. “I guess I’ll tell you all
about it when I get back.” Dr. Myers smiled, looking relieved
and slightly smug.
A nondescript Black man, dangerous in his commonness, stood in
a phone booth a few blocks from an unlabelled FBI adjunct building
in Northern Virginia and placed a collect call to Jubumga, West
Africa. He waited for the correct code word then said, “Hadley’s
Inn.” He quickly replaced the receiver and walked down the
street to meet his colleagues for lunch.
CHAPTER 1
Cary glanced across the quiet lounge of Hadley’s Inn. Five
days ago, he packed his Jeep with clothes and food and started
from his home in Virginia towards the other coast. He reached Northern
California the same time as a September rain storm and drove straight
to Dr. Myers’ suggested retreat, Hadley’s Inn. Hadley
Hansot and her husband, Jake, were extremely friendly people who
made him feel at home the second he stepped onto the porch. But,
aside from being friendly, they were incredibly nosy.
Cary told the Hansots he was a marketing director for a sports
apparel company in Chicago, with several business cards to confirm
the story. The truth was entirely different. The truth was much
less honest and tidy than the lie, Cary thought. In his line of
work Cary learned people liked to believe lies. Even if every piece
of evidence pointed towards the contrary, a person only believed
what he or she wanted to believe.
Cary smiled bitterly at the direction of his thoughts. His thinking
was the precise reason Dr. Myers suggested he take a few weeks
off and Iverson ordered Cary to follow the directions. Cary was
losing all ability to separate himself from the job. Being an undercover
field agent the last five years for the National Intelligence Group,
an ultra-clandestine department within the FBI, was hard to separate.
The employees told their parents, spouses, and friends they worked
for the FBI, which was technically true, but there was much more
involved that they could not tell them.
Cary’s last assignment involved infiltrating a West African
terrorist group on America soil. He was captured and shot in the
left arm when his cover was blown. He spent a pain-filled night
in the terrorists’ jail, not fearing or caring for his life.
When the Group didn’t hear from him at the appointed check-in
time, a team stormed the underground headquarters. Cary watched
as all ten men within the terrorist group were unmercifully gunned
down. He didn’t feel remorse for their deaths and that’s
what scared him. He hadn’t dated in over a year, he hadn’t
seen his brother or sister since he joined the Group, he didn’t
even have friends he could call for a basketball game, and none
of that mattered to him. He was lying constantly to people -- about
his job, his name, his birthplace -- and Cary knew he was about
to crack under the pressure.
Cary stood to stoke the crackling logs in the fireplace. The inn
boasted a maximum occupancy of fifteen guests and the owner, Hadley
Hansot, told him he was the fourth and final guest to check in
that night. There had been cancellations due to the storm. The
large inn felt quiet and lonely in the night, surrounded by only
trees and mountains for several miles. Cary was glad. He had to
think, like the psychiatrist ordered.
He walked over to the window and watched the pouring rain pound
against the trees and the front porch. He slightly smiled, as he
realized that however horrible he felt, whoever was stuck in the
rain was in a much worse position.
Jessica Larson kicked the tire on her motionless, mechanically
dead black Honda Accord and cursed as the rain continued to unforgivingly
pour. She kicked the tire once more in anger, as she thought of
the report she was supposed to be revising that waited on the Kitchen
counter in her dry San Francisco apartment. Jessica pulled limp
brown hair from her cinnamon brown face and glanced down the ink,
black two-lane highway. She couldn’t see ten feet in front
of her much less where the road disappeared. Jessica grabbed her
purse and began to blindly stumble down the highway. The night
was too cold and dark to sit in her car and pray for help to come.
And since Jessica never was one to rely on someone else to rescue
her, she decided to walk to the nearest gas station or house.
Jessica was hopelessly lost on a deserted highway in the middle
of a raging rain storm, but she realized she wasn’t as upset
as she probably should feel. Since graduating from Stanford University
three years ago and becoming a financial consultant at a prestigious
firm in San Francisco, her life had been relatively problem-free.
She had her own apartment, her own car, and enough extra money
to already have paid off her credit card bills and student loans.
However, even with financial security, Jessica was slowly starting
to realize something. She was lonely.
She had her friends, although most were either married or practically
married and spent any free time with their men. There was her older
brother, David. He spent time at work, or with his own “flavor
of the week”, or scheming with their mother to get Jessica
married and pregnant. She knew she could find an acceptable man
on her own, without their help. She was fairly tall at 5’8
with cinnamon brown skin, brown eyes, and long brown hair that
was too thick to wear down, so she mostly pinned it away from her
face. Since she ran every morning before work, she was in peak
physical shape and thin. Almost too thin, her brother complained.
Jessica didn’t think she was drop-dead gorgeous or insulting
to the eye. She had her fair share of sleazy come-ons and street
catcalls. And before her realization, she hadn’t been overly
worried about her single status. She thought she was too busy with
work to think about a man or a relationship. But lately, at night,
in the dark of her room and in the middle of her large queen-size
bed, Jessica thought about her future.
Jessica realized this wasn’t the time to examine her life
as she nearly fell into a ditch in the road, covered by the darkness.
She cursed herself for being so ridiculously stubborn. Her mother
told her not to drive back home that night in a storm, but Jessica
wanted to return to her small apartment in the City and her report.
Now, she could only think of the headlines for tomorrow’s
newspaper about a drowned Black woman who had been stupid enough
to drive 400 miles in a storm.
Jessica turned excitedly as two car lights burst through the wet
blackness. For a second, she thought of “Unsolved Mysteries” and “America’s
Most Wanted” stories on hitchhikers and seriously considered
hiding in the bushes on the side of the road. But, she felt the
sting of the rain and noticed the stretch of lonely road in front
and behind her and decided to take her chances with the potential
murderer. She waved wildly, jumping up and down on the road, until
the van slowly rolled to a stop next to her.
The words “Hadley’s Inn” were scrawled on the
side doors and the driver rolled down his window, looking suspiciously
like her grandfather. The ramrod straight posture, meticulously
groomed facial hair and open smile on his dark brown face made
her instantly nostalgic for home, even though she only left a few
hours ago.
“You look about ready to drown out there.” He motioned
her inside the van with a warm smile. “Hop in.”
Jessica immediately climbed inside the passenger seat and slammed
the door. “I appreciate this so much. Is there a mechanic
nearby? My car stalled about half a mile back.” Jessica briefly
closed her eyes as the warm interior of the car seeped through
her wet sweater and jeans. The man pushed a few buttons on the
console and she heard and felt warm heat push harder through the
vents. She sighed in appreciation.
“You won’t be able to do much of anything about your
car until this storm lets up. No one’s supposed to be driving
in this weather, especially along this area, there’s always
mud slides. I was the last car to get through the road block.”
Jessica rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Now what am I
supposed to do?”
“You could think about this in the morning after a good
night’s sleep,” he offered.
“At Hadley’s Inn, right? Are you Hadley?”
The man laughed, shaking his head. “Hadley’s my wife.
I’m Jake, Jake Hansot.”
“Jessica Larson. I guess, onward to Hadley’s.”
Jake carefully started the van down the dark road, their progress
slow from the rain and thick darkness of the unlit road. “What’s
a young lady doing by herself in the middle of a backwater road
during a storm?”
Jessica tried to pull the clinging, wet sweater from her
body to no avail. “I wish I knew. I visited my mother in
LA this weekend. I was heading back home to San Francisco when
I thought I could save time, by taking a shortcut. My shortcut
somehow landed me here. Where is here exactly?”
“You’re in Blue Moon Bay, about an hour and a half
southwest of San Francisco.”
Jessica shook her head. “So close yet so far away. I bet
my mother is worried sick. She told me not to drive in this weather.”
“No boyfriend or husband to call in San Francisco?”
Jessica stared out the window and slowly shook her head. Usually,
she would have bristled at that question from a complete stranger
but tonight she merely remained silent. Since her father left her
family when she was five years old and her brother went through
puberty, men had been a complete mystery to her. “No,” she
finally whispered.
“That’s hard to believe. A beautiful, young lady like
yourself.”
Jessica smiled at his compliment. “I guess I just haven’t
found the right guy. Besides, I’m very busy with my career.
I was recently selected as one of the recipients for a prestigious
award of recognition given by the Bay Area Professionals.”
“Congratulations.”
“It’s a very coveted award,” Jessica continued,
mostly because she couldn’t stop herself, although she knew
Jake could care less. “Every professional in the city under
30 years old wants the recognition. Just being nominated is a huge
honor and guaranteed to open doors in the business community for
the next ten years. As you can probably tell, I wouldn’t
have time for a relationship even if I wanted one.”
“Of course,” Jake replied. Jessica heard a slight
hint of amusement in his voice.
“You don’t believe me?”
“I believe you. I guess I’m from the old school where
a person always finds time for that right person.”
“Things change,” Jessica replied, staring out the
window. “I wake up early, go to bed late, and all the hours
in between are spent at work.”
“You do sound busy,” Jake said, with the same hint
of amusement.
Jessica noticed a gold medal dangling from the rearview mirror
and grasped at the change in conversation. “I’ve seen
this before. I think my grandfather has one.”
Jake grinned. “It’s a World War II veteran medal.”
Jessica listened for the next twenty minutes as Jake regaled her
with war stories, until he turned off the highway, onto a gravel
road. A three-story, sprawling white building, with the dark glow
of warm candles reflecting through the windows, appeared through
the curtain of rain. Jessica smiled surprised at the inn. She liked
the quiet, relaxed feeling emanating from the place. An older,
Black woman in a flowered dress, that whipped around her ankles
in the wind, stood in the front door beckoning to them. Jake helped
Jessica from the van and they rushed into the warmth of the house.
“Hadley, look what I found,” Jake announced to the
smiling woman, while shaking water from his coat. He led Jessica
to a small counter that stood across from the open doorway of a
large room, with a fire raging in the stone fireplace. Jessica
stared longingly at the fire.
“You poor dear. Do you have any dry clothes?” Hadley
asked, briskly rubbing Jessica’s arms.
“I brought a change of clothes in my purse, the rest are
in my car. Is there any room?”
“Of course, of course,” Hadley said nodding, her eyes
assessing Jessica’s bedraggled state.
Jessica nervously smoothed dripping hair from her face and glanced
at the puddle of water forming at her feet on the gleaming hardwood
floor. “How much for a room?”
“For you, free,” Jake answered before Hadley could
speak.
“No,” Jessica protested. “I know how much a
room in a wonderful inn like this can cost. Please--”
“Here’s a key to a room down the hall, with a great
view of the forest which would be nice if you could actually see
fifteen feet in front of you outside,” Jake said, ignoring
her protests.
“I couldn’t,” Jessica refused.
Jake shook his head and closed her hand around the key. “I
forced you to come here. The least I could do is show you a little
hospitality.”
“Take it, sweetie,” Hadley encouraged then not-so-gently
pushed her towards the hallway. “Now that’s settled,
get out of those wet clothes and come to the lounge where I’ll
put some hot chocolate out. Dinner will be ready in about 45 minutes.”
Jessica felt tears in her eyes and was surprised. She didn’t
normally encounter truly nice people in the world of consulting. “Thank
you both so much.” She met their matching grins then turned
to follow Jake’s directions to the room.
The relatively small room featured a large four-poster bed, an
antique dresser, bay windows, that showcased the darkness, and
a door that led to a private bathroom. Jessica took a quick hot
shower and changed into her dry clothes, taking the time to rejoice
in the feel of dry cotton against her skin. She combed through
her wet, tangled hair, leaving it to fall around her shoulders
to dry naturally, then practically ran to the lounge to stand in
front of the fireplace.
Jessica sighed in relief, closing her eyes, as the heat from the
fire slowly seeped through her skin and warmed her blood. She finally
admitted to herself that she was relaxed. She could feel each muscle
and joint in her body slowly melt into place. Even the muscles
in her face slowly uncoiled as the flames from the fire purged
the worries from work out of her mind. The report she had been
rushing home to complete was completely forgotten, along with other
projects at work that usually hovered in the back of her thoughts.
“You seem to be enjoying that fire,” a deep voice
vibrated through the room, interrupting her thoughts.
Jessica’s heart begin to race as she noticed she wasn’t
alone in the room. A tall, lean figure stood near the window in
the shadow-filled corner of the room. He slowly stepped into the
light cast from the fire, and Jessica withheld a gasp, as her stomach
dropped to her feet. He was beautiful. His smooth caramel brown
skin glistened in the fire light as he walked towards her. He had
a defined nose, full lips, and beautiful brown eyes that slightly
frightened Jessica because of the intensity that burned inside
them. There was a current surrounding his body that she knew would
electrocute her if she allowed him to stand too close.
She found her voice before he decided she was a gaping idiot. “I
. . . I was lost on the highway and Jake found me.”
“You must be cold,” he replied, in a neutral voice.
Jessica relaxed as she assessed the situation. She was a plain,
Black woman, and this gorgeous Black man obviously thought she
would throw herself at him, like probably all other women did.
Jessica wanted to assure him he definitely wasn’t her type.
Because if she ever decided to seriously date a man, her list would
not include intimidating men with piercing eyes.
His eyes openly traveled over the length of her body, from her
feet to the top of her wet hair, and she rolled her eyes in annoyance
at his typical display of male attitude. Then she realized he wasn’t
looking at her like a man checked out a woman, but almost like
a rancher would analyze a piece of beef for his farm. He was surveying
her for flaws or defects and, for some reason, that made her angry.
“I am cold,” she muttered then turned back to the
fire to signal the conversation was over, but instead he walked
closer. Instinctively she knew he would never harm her, but her
skin tingled and she wondered if he could hear the loud thumps
of her heart against her chest.
“I saw you come in. Why were you walking outside in the
middle of a rainstorm?” he practically demanded.
Jessica glared at him. She was normally a nice person, but his
sharp words and invading eyes made her blood boil. She had been
enjoying the fire, relaxing, until he intruded and made her stomach
rumble with an unexplainable emotion. “I like to walk in
storms,” she bitterly spat out. “I like to get soaking
wet and possibly catch pneumonia. It’s a hobby of mine. In
fact, I’m the world’s leading expert on walking in
storms. I travel across the world teaching others how to walk in
the stinging cold rain of your garden variety winter storm, instead
of staying inside with a fire.”
Judging from his narrowed eyes, he didn’t miss the sarcasm
in her voice. He took one step closer and Jessica straightened
her back, meeting his eyes. She had too much pride to recant her
immature words, although she immediately wanted to, but she also
had not been successful in business by yielding every time she
was afraid or said something she regretted. Then a ripple flashed
across his face, and Jessica thought, for a spilt second, the mystery
man would laugh.
“Well, that’s an interesting hobby,” he finally
replied, with an impassive expression. Jessica had the strange
notion he wanted to salute her, but he abruptly turned and walked
from the lounge. Stormed was the more appropriate word, she thought.
She turned back to the fire and closed her eyes, still feeling
the air from his presence sizzle around her. She tried to recall
the relaxed feeling in her body before her strange encounter, but
the man stayed before her eyes. She briefly wondered what he looked
like when he smiled. Jessica squeezed her eyes shut. She doubted
a man like him ever smiled, unless he was making some woman miserable.
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