Dawn in Eclipse Bay

chapter 5

The storm came and went during the night. The morning dawned bright and mild for the time of year. The temperature was somewhere in the high fifties.

Gabe came to a halt at the top of the small bluff and looked down into Dead Hand Cove. The tide was out, exposing the five finger-shaped rocks that had given the cove its name. There were a number of dark holes and voids in the base of the cliffs. They marked a series of small caverns and caves that nature had punched into the rock.

He saw Lillian perched on one of the carelessly strewn boulders near the water’s edge. The winter sun gleamed on her dark hair. The keen edge of expectation that shafted through him heightened all his senses. He felt the now-familiar tightness in his lower body.

She wore a pair of snug black leggings that emphasized the neat curve of her calves and trim ankles. The neckline of an orange-gold sweater was visible above the collar of a scarlet jacket. Her hair was coiled into a knot at the back of her head.

She was bent intently over an open sketchbook propped on her knees.

Last night at Rafe and Hannah’s he had learned the terrible truth. She wasn’t just an arty type. She was a for real artist.

He watched the deft, economical movements of her hand as she worked on the drawing. There was a supple, controlled grace in the way she wielded the pencil that fascinated him. A sorceress at work on a magical spell.

A gull screeched overhead, breaking the trance that held him still at the top of the short cliff.

He pulled the collar of his black-and-tan jacket up around his ears and went down the pebbled path, moving quickly, perversely eager to get closer to his own doom. Probably a Madison thing, he thought.

She became aware of his presence when he reached the rocky patch of ground that formed the tiny sliver of beach. Lillian looked up quickly, turning her head to watch him. She seemed to go very still there on the rock. Sorceress caught in the act. He could sense the cool caution in her.

Maybe she was right to be wary of him. He sure as hell didn’t understand what was happening here, either. He forced himself to move more slowly as he neared her perch, trying for the laid-back, easygoing, nonthreatening look.

“How long were you standing up there spying on me?” she asked.

“You sure know how to make a man feel welcome.”

“I thought I was alone. You startled me.”

“Sorry. I usually work out in the mornings. There’s no gym in the vicinity so I thought I’d take a long walk, instead.”

“You just decided to walk in this direction?”

He smiled. “Is it me or do you always wake up in this charming mood?”

She hesitated and then returned his smile. “My turn to apologize. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’ve been feeling a little edgy lately.”

“What a coincidence. So have I.”

“I’m not surprised.” She looked wise and all-knowing. “Probably the burnout.”

“You’ve got me all analyzed and diagnosed, don’t you?” He lowered himself onto a nearby rock. “Are you on edge because I’m here in Eclipse Bay?”

“No,” she said.

“Liar.”

She shot him an irritated look. “It’s the truth. I’m on edge for a lot of reasons that have nothing to do with you.”

“Such as?”

“You want a list?”

“Let’s hear it.”

Her mouth firmed. “Well, let’s see. There’s the fact that I’m not currently employed because I just closed my business.”

“Your own fault.”

“Thank you for reminding me. I’m also nervous about how well my show at the gallery will be received.”

He couldn’t think of anything to say to that so he let it go.

“Also, I had a couple of rather unpleasant scenes before I left Portland. I’ve been worrying about them. Wondering if I handled them properly.”

“What kind of scenes?”

She looked out toward the five finger rocks. “Anderson came to see me. He did not take it well when I told him I didn’t want to work on his book.”

“I’ll bet he didn’t. Did you mention that you had seen him in his red underwear?”

“Of course not.”

“Just as well. I wouldn’t worry too much about that scene, if I were you. What was the other one?”

“A man named Campbell Witley stopped me on the street to tell me that I had no business messing around in other people’s lives.”

Something in the tone of her voice made him look at her more closely. “This Witley guy scared you?”

She hesitated. “Maybe. A little.”

“Who is he?”

“The disgruntled ex-boyfriend of one of my clients. He didn’t like the fact that I had matched her with someone else, even though it’s obvious that Witley and Heather were not meant for each other.”

He searched her face. “Did he threaten you?”

“No.”

“I’ll have him checked out.” He reached for the cell phone in the pocket of his jacket. “Madison Commercial keeps an investigation agency on retainer.”

“Thanks, but that’s not necessary. I had Townsend Investigations run a quick background check. Witley has no history of violence or abuse.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. It’s okay, really. Nella Townsend knows what she’s doing. The guy was just mad. I think what bothered me the most is that he had a point.”

“Bullshit.”

“He accused me of messing around with people’s lives and that’s exactly what I did. As a professional matchmaker I assumed a massive responsibility. What if I had made a terrible mistake? I could have seriously impacted someone’s future negatively.”

“Stop beating yourself up over this. You were a consultant. People paid you for advice. You gave it. They made their own decisions. A simple business transaction. You have absolutely no reason to feel guilty.”

She was silent for a moment, considering his words. Then her voice brightened.

“You do have a way of boiling things down to the bare essence, Madison.”

“One of the things I’m good at.” He leaned a little to get a look at the drawing on her lap. “Can I see what you’re working on there?”

She handed the sketchpad to him without comment.

He examined the drawing for a while and discovered that the longer he studied it, the more he wanted to look at it.

It was a picture of Dead Hand Cove but it was the cove as he had never really seen it, at least not consciously. There was a riveting intensity about Lillian’s rendering of this small chunk of nature-a dark promise of potent, primordial power. It called to something deep within him-made him aware that he was forever linked on the cellular level to these wild forces of life.

Damn. All that in a simple sketch. It was worse than he had thought. She was good. Very, very good.

“One thing’s for sure,” he said finally. “You were wasting your time in the matchmaking business. You’re an artist, all right. This is your calling.”

“Doesn’t mean my work will sell,” she said.

“No.” He handed the sketchpad back to her. “It also doesn’t change the fact that this is what you were born to do. Can I ask you a question?”

“What is it?”

“Could you stop doing your art?”

“Stop? You mean, just call it quits?”

“Say someone came along and said he’d give you a million bucks if you agreed to never draw or paint again. Could you take the money and keep your promise?”

“No.” She looked down at the sketch. “Sooner or later, I’d have to go back to it. It’s a compulsion, not a choice.”

“That’s what I figured.” He exhaled deeply. “So you’ll keep doing it, even if you have to get another day job.”

“Yes.”

“You’re an artist.”

“Yes,” she said again. “I guess so.”

She sounded a little startled. Thoughtful. As if he had surprised her.

He listened to the seawater tumble in the cove. The tide was returning. Soon only the tips of the fingers would be visible.

“Madison Commercial must have been like that for you all these years,” Lillian said slowly. “A compulsion. Something you had to do.”

“Maybe.”

“Why?”

“Who knows?” He picked up a small stone and sent it spinning out into the foaming water. “Maybe I just wanted to prove that a Madison could do what you Hartes seemed to do so well.”

“What’s that?”

“Not screw up.”

She looked toward the point where the stone had disappeared into the water. “Are you telling me that everything you’ve accomplished, all your success, happened just because you felt a sense of competition with my family?”

He shrugged. “That was part of it. At least at first. I grew up knowing that you Hartes were smart enough not to make the mistakes we Madisons have always been so good at. Your businesses prosper. Your families are solid. Hell, your parents were actually married. What a concept.”

She did not respond to that. There was no need. They both knew each other’s family histories as well as they knew their own. His father, Sinclair, had been a sculptor with a passion for his art and his model, Natalie. Gabe and Rafe had been the result of that union.

The relationship between his parents had lived up to the expectations of everyone familiar with the Madison clan. The long-running affair had been fiery and tempestuous. Sinclair had never seen any reason to burden himself with the petty strings of marriage. Gabe was pretty sure his parents had loved each other in their own stormy fashion, but family life had not been what anyone could call stable, let alone normal.

He and Rafe had each learned to cope in their own ways with their erratic, eccentric, larger-than-life father and their beautiful, temperamental mother. Rafe had chosen to pretend to himself and everyone else that he did not give a damn about his own future. “Live for the moment” had been his motto, at least until he’d come within a hair’s breadth of getting himself arrested for murder.

Gabe knew that he, on the other hand, had probably gone to the other extreme. Control and a sense of order had been his bulwarks against the shifting tides of fortune and emotion that had roiled his childhood. In putting together Madison Commercial he had done everything he could to carve his own future out of granite.

“What’s the rest?” Lillian asked.

“The rest?”

“I don’t believe you could have accomplished so much just because you were inspired by a sense of competition with my family.”

He shook off the brooding sensation that had settled around him like an old, well-worn coat. “I’m not the introspective type.”

“Oh, yes that’s right. How could I forget? You made that fact very clear on the questionnaire that you filled out for Private Arrangements.”

“Probably.”

“As I recall,” she continued, “on the portion of the form reserved for ‘Other Comments,’ you wrote that you considered yourself pragmatic and realistic by nature. You instructed me not to waste your valuable time with any elitist academics or fuzzy-brained New Age thinkers.”

“Uh-huh.”

Lillian closed the sketchpad with a snap. “You also noted that you did not want to be matched with what you calledarty types.”

Well, hell.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Lillian said, “but I got the impression that the ‘other comments’ section of the questionnaire was one of the few places on the form where you were actually more or less truthful in your responses. Or did you shade those answers, too?”

Definitely time to change the subject.

“You got anything to eat back in your cottage?” he asked.

She blinked and refocused. “You’re hungry?”

“Starving. I woke up this morning and realized I didn’t have any coffee in the house. Nothing to eat, either. Forgot to stop at a grocery store last night.”

“You expect me to feed you breakfast?”

“Why not? Be the neighborly thing to do. If I had coffee and toast and maybe some peanut butter, I’d invite you to my place.”

“Peanut butter?”

“Be amazed at what you can do with peanut butter.”

“I see. Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I didn’t pick up anything yesterday, either. I’m planning to drive into town in a few minutes to get something from that bakery Rafe raved about last night.”

“Incandescent Body?” He got to his feet. “Good idea. My brother knows food.”

She was not sure why she had allowed herself to get talked into accompanying Gabe into town. Something to do with the odd mood she was in, no doubt. But when she walked through the doors of the bakery a short time later, the heavenly fragrance of freshly baked bread quickly resolved any doubts about her decision. She suddenly realized that she was ravenous.

No one knew much about the group of New Age types who had moved into town a year ago and opened Incandescent Body near the pier. They dressed in long, colorful robes, wore a lot of jewelry that appeared to have been inspired by ancient Egyptian and Roman artifacts, and seemed a little too serene to be real. They called themselves Heralds of Future History.

The initial reaction of the town folk had been one of acute disgust and, in some quarters, outright alarm, according to Rafe and Hannah. The town council had expressed deep concerns about the possibility that Eclipse Bay had a genuine wacko cult in its midst. TheEclipse Bay Journal had run an editorial that had advised the authorities to keep a close watch on the new crowd.

But in a town in which the only bakery had been closed for nearly three years, the Heralds of Future History soon proved to possess one major redeeming feature. They baked like angels.

It was going on ten o’clock when Lillian and Gabe arrived. A number of people were sprinkled around the handful of tables. The customers were primarily a mix of local residents, a couple of rare winter tourists, and some young people in denim and khaki who looked like students from Chamberlain College.

The heads of the locals swiveled immediately toward the door when Lillian walked in with Gabe on her heels. Lillian could guess their thoughts. Hannah and Rafe’s marriage a few months ago had thrilled and fascinated the entire town. And now here was another Harte woman with a Madison male. Would wonders never cease?

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” she whispered to Gabe.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He came to a halt at the counter and studied the artfully arranged breakfast pastries behind the glass. “The only other place open at this hour is the Total Eclipse. You don’t want to eat breakfast there, trust me.”

“Good point. Any restaurant that uses the motto ‘Where the sun don’t shine’ probably isn’t a terrific breakfast spot.”

“Right. Besides, those corn bread muffins look incredible. I’m going to have two. What do you want?”

“People are staring at us.”

“Yeah?” He glanced around curiously, nodded civilly at the people he recognized and then turned back to the croissant display. “So what? You’re a Harte. I’m a Madison. Put the two together in this town and you’re bound to get a few stares.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“Nope.”

“Of course, a few stares don’t bother you,” she muttered. “You’re a Madison.”

“You got that right.”

He approached the middle-aged woman dressed in a long, pale robe standing behind the counter. She wore a white scarf over her graying hair and a pristine white apron. A crescent-shaped amulet hung from a chain around her neck.

“May the light of future history be with you,” she said politely.

“Thanks,” Gabe said. “Same to you. I’ll have a couple of those corn bread muffins and a cup of coffee, please.” He looked over his shoulder. “Decided what you want, Lillian?”

She hurried forward. “A croissant, please. And green tea.”

“For here or to go?” the woman asked.

“For here,” Gabe said.

“Say, I recognize those voices,” boomed a whiskey-and-cigar voice from the other side of a curtained doorway.

Lillian suppressed a small groan and summoned up a smile for the husky, robust woman dressed in military fatigues and boots who appeared in the opening. Arizona Snow had long since passed the age that officially placed her in the senior citizen category but she had enough energy for a far younger person. She also had a cause.

“Well, now, I call this perfect timing,” Arizona Snow said with evident satisfaction.

“Morning, A.Z.” Gabe said. “How’s the conspiracy business these days?”

“Those bastards up at the institute laid low for a while after your brother and Hannah managed to put a spoke in their wheel, but things are heating up again.” Arizona beamed at Lillian. “Good to see you back in town.”

“Nice to see you, too,” Lillian said. She waved a hand to indicate the bakery. “What are you doing here?”

“Regular weekly briefing with the Heralds.” Arizona lowered her voice to what she no doubt thought was a confidential level. “Instituted the routine a couple of months ago after I got to know ’em better and discovered that they’re not naïve dupes of the agency like most everyone else around these parts. They understand what’s happenin’.”

“Glad someone does,” Gabe said.

Arizona leaned a little farther out the doorway, swept the outer room with a quick glance and then motioned to Lillian and Gabe. “Come on back. I’ll bring you up to date, too.”

“Uh, that’s okay, Arizona,” Lillian said hastily. “We’re a little busy this morning. Aren’t we, Gabe?”

“Don’t know about you.” Gabe put some money down on the counter. “But I’m in no rush.”

“You’renot?” In her wildest flights of imagination she would never have envisioned him willingly going down the rabbit hole into the alternate universe that was Arizona Snow’s world.

He glanced at her, brows raised. “What?” he asked amused.

“Don’t you, uh, have some telecommuting to do?” she asked weakly.

“It’ll keep.”

Arizona gave Lillian a knowing look, squinting slightly. “Hannah and Rafe weren’t real interested in what was going on up at the institute, either, until it was damn near too late.”

Lillian knew when she was beaten. She tried and failed to come up with an excuse but nothing came to mind. The bottom line was that the Hartes and the Madisons owed Arizona Snow. She was more than a little eccentric but a few months ago it had been her meticulously kept logbooks that had provided the clues Rafe and Hannah had needed to identify a murderer.

“I suppose we can stay for a few minutes,” Lillian said.

“Forewarned is forearmed.” Arizona held the curtain aside.

“Can’t argue with that,” Gabe said. He picked up his muffins and coffee and went around the counter.

Lillian reluctantly collected her croissant and tea and trailed after him.

Arizona let the curtain fall behind them. Lillian stopped at the sight of the three men and two women grouped around a large, floured worktable. All were dressed in Herald-style attire, complete with robes and ancient-looking jewelry. Their ages were varied. The youngest was a man whose long hair was neatly bound up in a white sanitary cap. Lillian thought he was probably in his mid-twenties. The oldest was a woman with silver hair and a matronly figure. A tall man with a shaved head and a stately air appeared to be the authority figure in the group.

The Heralds regarded Lillian and Gabe with serenely polite expressions.

Arizona took up a position at the head of the table and fixed everyone in turn with a steely look.

“Gabe, Lillian, meet Photon, Rainbow, Daybreak, Dawn, and Beacon.” She gave the Heralds a pointed look. “Gabe and Lillian are friends of mine. Take it from me, you can trust ’em. Fact is, in this town, you can trust anyone with the last name of Harte or Madison.”

Lillian nodded, determined to be polite. “Good morning.”

Gabe inclined his head in an easy greeting. He set his mug down on a nearby table and took a bite of one of the muffins on his plate.

“Great corn bread,” he said.

Photon, the man with the shaved head who seemed to be in charge, said, “Thank you. We do our best to introduce the light of future history into all our products. But we’re only human. Sometimes our negative thoughts get into the dough in spite of our best efforts.”

“Light’s your secret ingredient, huh?” Gabe picked up the remaining portion of the muffin. “Works for me.” He took another bite.

Arizona picked up a large rolling pin and rapped it smartly on the table to get everyone’s attention.

“Enough with the chitchat,” she said. “Got a briefing to get through here. Not like we have time to waste. The future of this town, not to mention the whole country, is hanging in the balance.”

Everyone obediently moved a little closer to the table.

Arizona cleared her throat loudly.

“Now, then, as I was sayin’ before I heard Lillian and Gabe out front, I’ve put the evidence together and it’s become real clear why they’re building the new wing at the institute. Official word, of course, is that it’s supposed to be additional office and conference space.” She broke off to give everyone at the table a meaningful look. “But I think everyone here knows that’s just another one of their lies.”

Lillian studied the map spread out on the table. It showed the hillside above town where the Eclipse Bay Policy Studies Institute was located. A handful of photos that looked as if they had been snapped with a long-range lens were scattered around the edges. They were pictures of what was obviously a construction zone at the institute. She could make out a truck and something that looked like electrical equipment.

Gabe leaned over the photos. “Good long-range recon shots, A.Z.”

“Thanks.” A.Z. allowed herself a proud smile. “Took ’em with my new surveillance camera. A genuine VPX 5000. Latest model. Replaces the old 4000 series. Telephoto lens, sniper grip shutter release trigger. Half a dozen filters for day and night photo work. And a real nice leather carrying case.”

“I hate to sound like just another naïve, innocent dupe,” Lillian said, “but what makes you think they aren’t adding office and conference space?”

“Number of factors.” Arizona motioned toward the map with the rolling pin. “First, increased volume of traffic in this sector during the past six months.”

“Are we talking out-of-town traffic?” Gabe asked.

“We are, for sure,” Arizona said.

“Huh.” Gabe took another bite of the muffin. “That’s suspicious, all right.”

“For heaven’s sake,” said Lillian. “Everyone knows the institute has been growing rapidly for some time now. They give seminars, receptions, and political theory retreats on a regular basis. In addition, they provided the springboard for Trevor Thornley’s campaign. It’s only natural that there would be a lot of traffic.”

Arizona squinted. “Cover, is what it is. All that political think-tank stuff and those seminars and such make good camouflage for concealing what’s really goin’ on up there. Furthermore, the traffic volume didn’t fall off for long after Thornley pulled out of the campaign. No sir. There was a brief lull, but by the end of November, there were more vehicles than ever going in and out of there.”

“Sounds serious, all right,” Gabe concurred. “What other factors besides increased traffic point to a clandestine operation?”

“Oh, geez,” Lillian muttered. No one paid any attention.

“Most of the construction work on the new wing is being done by contractors who aren’t from around here,” Arizona said ominously.

“Heard something about that.” Gabe examined another photo. “My brother said the Willis brothers didn’t get a chunk of the construction action.”

“No, they didn’t and that tells us a lot, doesn’t it?” Arizona said.

“Uh, what, exactly, does it tell us?” Lillian asked cautiously.

“That they didn’t want no one from around here getting a close look at what’s going on up there,” Arizona announced. “That’s what it tells us.”

“Probably knew the Willis brothers couldn’t be bribed to keep their mouths shut if they saw something suspicious,” Gabe said. “Everyone knows how Walter and Torrance talk.”

Lillian had an urge to stomp hard on the toe of his large running shoe. She managed, with an effort, to resist.

“Stands to reason they would bring in outside contractors when you think about it,” she said quickly. “Hannah and Rafe have been keeping the Willis brothers busy for months turning Dreamscape into an inn. They wouldn’t have had time to work on the new wing.”

They all ignored her. So much for being the voice of reason, she thought.

“Volume of overnight and regular freight deliveries has picked up recently, too,” Arizona droned on. “I staked out the loading dock for a couple of days. Took a whole series of shots with the VPX 5000. Amazing how much equipment and material is being moved into that place.”

“High-tech stuff?” Gabe asked.

“You bet. Tons of it.”

Gabe looked up from the photos. “What about heavy-duty heating, ventilation, and air-conditioning equipment?”

Lillian glared at him. He paid no attention. He was really getting into this, she realized with a shock. Enjoying himself.

Arizona gave him an approving look. “They started unloading HVAC crates last week. Got ’em on film.”

Gabe shook his head. “Not good.”

The Heralds murmured among themselves, obviously agreeing with that conclusion.

“What do you mean, it’s not a good sign?” Lillian knew her voice was rising but there was nothing she could do about it. She was getting desperate. “Any large, modern business structure needs a lot of computers and commercial-grade heating and air-conditioning equipment.”

This time she was totally ignored.

“I’d estimate their security level as Class Three at the moment,” Arizona said. “Fences have gone up around the construction perimeter.”

“Perfectly normal,” Lillian said. “The last thing the institute would want is a lawsuit filed by someone who happened to trip and fall over a pile of pipes.”

“Guards on the premises?” Gabe asked.

“Yep. Disguised as low-profile security, though,” Arizona said. “Didn’t see any weapons. Probably knew that would attract too much attention in a small town like this where there’s not much of a crime problem. Expect they’ll wait until after the big move before they go to Class Two status and arm the guards.”

Lillian clutched her untouched croissant. “What are you talking about? What big move?”

“We all know what’s happening up there,” Arizona said. “Problem is, we’ve got no hard evidence yet. I’m stepping up my surveillance work, though. I’ll try to get us some pictures that we can take to the media.”

“You’re a true hero, Arizona.” Photon looked at her with unconcealed admiration. “If it hadn’t been for you, we wouldn’t have had a clue. Who knows how long Project Transfer would have gone undetected?”

Lillian was amazed to see Arizona turn pink.

“Just doin’ my duty.”

“It’s people like you who keep this country safe for democracy,” Gabe said.

“Excuse me.” Lillian held up her hand. “As the sole representative of the naïve, innocent dupes of Eclipse Bay, I would like to ask a question.”

“Go right ahead,” Arizona said.

“What, precisely, do you think is going on up at the institute, A.Z.? What is this Project Transfer you mentioned?”

Arizona made atut-tut sound.

The Heralds shook their heads sadly at Lillian’s failure to grasp the obvious.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Gabe hide a quick grin behind his coffee mug.

“Thought it was as plain as the white lines out on the highway,” Arizona said. “The secret gov’mint agency in charge of Roswell and the Area 51 facility has decided it’s attracting too much attention. The Internet was what did ’em in, I reckon. After those satellite images of the old test site went online, they knew they had a real problem. That’s probably when they started making plans.”

Gabe nodded knowingly. “Had a feeling those mysterious fires in New Mexico a while back weren’t accidental.”

“You got that right,” Arizona said. “No such thing as an accident where this bunch is concerned.”

“Plans to dowhat?” Lillian demanded.

Arizona rocked back and forth in her boots and looked grim. “Pretty clear they’re gonna transfer the bodies of those extraterrestrials they’ve got in deep freeze in Area 51 along with the remains of their spaceship and all that alien technology right here to Eclipse Bay.”