SIX

“WE’RE ONE STEP closer,” Shane said into the phone, wishing he had more to report to his boss. He took a long drag on his cigarette and leaned back in the squeaky desk chair, his gaze idly wandering around Faith’s little office. “The letters have all been postmarked in nearby towns. The call we managed to trace came from a phone booth in Ukiah. We know he’s in the immediate area.”

“The sixty-four-thousand-dollar question is: Where?” Banks asked in his typical sardonic tone.

“I don’t know,” Shane admitted, narrowing his eyes as he stared at the neatly typed, utterly nasty missive lying on the walnut desk before him. It was the third Faith had received in a week. Tension coiled in his gut. He didn’t like playing a waiting game. He was a hunter by nature. But in this scenario he was relegated to the role of fisherman-waiting for their boy to take the bait so he could reel him in.

“How’s our witness holding up?”

Shane thought of Faith. She had an inner strength that never failed to amaze him. The constant tension was taking a toll on her, but every time he expected her to give in or give up she reached deep down inside for a little more grit. “She’s a remarkable lady.”

“Yes, she is. Give her my regards… and my condolences for having to put up with you day in and day out.”

A wry smile quirked up one corner of Shane’s mouth as he tossed out a rather lewd suggestion about what his superior could do with the rest of his day.

“Hang tight, pal,” Banks advised, chuckling at Callan’s characteristic disregard for authority figures. “Gerrard’s request for a later court date has been denied. He’ll be sweating bullets soon if he doesn’t hear word of Faith backing out on testifying. They’ll make a move soon.”

“I’ll be here when they do,” Shane promised. He could almost taste the vengeance. Damn, that wasn’t like him. An agent couldn’t take cases personally and hold together for long. Pushing the thought from his mind, he changed the subject. “Any word on Strauss?”

“Interpol says he was spotted in Argentina.”

“I don’t think so,” Shane said slowly, that knot of tension tightening in his belly as he called to mind the image of his archnemesis from the Silvanus organization. During his three years on the case he had come to know the man as well as he knew himself. Adam Strauss may have had Argentina in mind as a new base of operations, but Shane knew with a cold certainty he wouldn’t be there yet. “That’s not his style.”

“Meaning he’d kill you first before retiring to a tropical paradise?”

“He swore he would. As incongruous as it sounds, Adam Strauss is a man of his word.”

“Can’t happen, my friend. There’s no way he can find you.”

After Shane ended the conversation and hung up the phone, he sat back. Where there’s a will, there’s a way, he thought with an odd kind of detachment. But Adam Strauss wasn’t his immediate concern.

Stubbing out his cigarette, he forced his mind back to the matter at hand. His gaze devoured the letter Faith had received the day before. There simply wasn’t anything about it that pointed in any one direction. The only thing they could discern from it was that the perpetrator had a violent imagination and a solid command of grammar.

“Damn,” he muttered, shaking another cigarette out of the rapidly depleting pack. He dangled it from his lip and momentarily forgot about it.

He was getting itchy. Patience was the name of the game on a case like this one, but his was wearing thin around the edges. He wanted a suspect, and they didn’t have one. He didn’t like Faith’s caretaker, Mr. Fitz, but so far the only thing he could accuse the man of was being ill-tempered and malodorous.

Maybe, Shane mused, the real reason he was getting edgy was because there was something he wanted more than a suspect-Faith. Nearly a week had passed since their encounter in his bedroom. She hadn’t taken him up on his offer of a physical relationship, but that wasn’t because she wasn’t interested. It was obvious she was very aware of him as a man. She was skittish around him, a kind of nervousness that sprang from sexual tension.

Lying in bed every night, knowing she was just across the hall, was an experience Shane considered on a level with Chinese water torture. He couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman the way he wanted her. He was a relatively young, healthy male with strong sexual appetites, but this transcended mere physical need. Want of her seemed to have invaded every level of his being. The idea made him uncomfortable, but he couldn’t escape it. If he didn’t get her into bed soon and slake this need, it was going to drive him right over the edge.

All he had to do was push her a little. Faith was too inexperienced to resist a skilled seduction. But he couldn’t do that and live with himself afterward. As unappealing as the idea was, he was just going to have to bide his time.

“Good Lord!” Faith choked as she opened the door. Blinking rapidly as she entered the office, she waved an arm in front of her as if she were cutting her way through a jungle with a machete. “What are you trying to do, give yourself lung cancer in one sitting?”

Shane frowned but couldn’t quite stop himself from snatching the unlit cigarette from his lip. Faith’s voice had that innate motherly quality that could make even a grown man feel contrite. “We’ll have the place fumigated for you after we leave.”

Faith almost flinched at the words. After he left. The thought caused an alarming amount of pain. Forcing herself past the sensation, she said, “Alaina and Jayne are both gone for the day. I gave them time off for good behavior above and beyond the call of duty. I’m going to take Lindy down to the beach for the afternoon. I thought you’d want to know.”

“Fine.” Shane pushed himself to his feet with the lazy, deceptive grace of a big cat. “I’ll go with you.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say no, but Faith bit the automatic response back. In the first place it wouldn’t do any good. Mules had nothing on Shane Callan when it came to being stubborn. In the second place, it wasn’t what she really wanted. The thought of spending the day on the beach with him held the appeal of forbidden fruit. It may not have been wise, but she allowed herself to yield to the temptation.

“All right. We’ll be ready as soon as I pack the picnic basket.”

Beauty was something Shane had had little room for in his life in recent years. Now it surrounded him. He felt it wash over him like the golden sunlight pouring down out of the clear blue sky. He could feel it warming him and healing him-not just the wound in his shoulder, but the scars that lacerated his soul as well. He could feel it seeping inside him and filling up all the dark corners.

Beauty was the fresh, cool salt air, the temporary absence of tension, Lindy’s laughter as bubbling little waves chased her up the beach.

Natural beauty was obvious all around. They had set up their little picnic site on a secluded strip of soft, silvery sand. Shane lay stretched out on a blue plaid blanket, propped up on his right elbow, his gaze automatically sweeping the area. A hundred feet or so above them, at the top of a rugged cliff, stood the inn, its assortment of roof peaks zigzagging across the azure sky. Before them stretched the Pacific, shining like a jewel in the setting of a perfect day. Fishing boats dotted the far horizon, and gulls swooped and called overhead.

Also coming under the heading of natural beauty was Faith. She walked along the water’s edge, helping her daughter hunt for seashells. Somewhere during the last week Shane had lost his mental image of her as William Gerrard’s wife, the polished society lady. That wasn’t Faith. Faith was scrubbed-fresh skin and unruly curls, faded jeans and canvas sneakers. She was a sweet smile and an intricately wrought golden heart. She was beauty-outwardly and inwardly.