Wild Shores

Chapter Two

Gem kept pace with Austin’s slightly longer stride as they searched for their vehicle among the rows of numbered rental cars. They finally found the late-model Nissan Pathfinder and stowed their gear in the rear. She climbed into the passenger seat as Austin slid behind the wheel, started the vehicle, and switched on the navcom.

Austin slid her phone out of her pants pocket, scrolled through with her thumb, and punched in an address on the console. “What do you know? The hotel address pops. Looks like we’ve got directions.”

Gem scanned the readout alongside the route map. “Yes, and if we weren’t driving through soup, we’d probably be there in the three-plus hours predicted. Obviously, the electronic gods haven’t picked up the weather report yet.”

“Double the time estimate, if we’re lucky.” Austin backed out of the space and joined the queue leaving the garage.

“Road trip.” Gem sighed. She hadn’t planned on a day in the car, but at least she wasn’t sitting on a hard plastic seat in the airport or calling hotels looking for a room. “I used to love them when I was a kid. On occasion, I still do. But I’m really sorry you’re going to have to drive through this.”

“I’m used to it. I live in the Catskills, and fog is a way of life starting in October.”

“I can spell you whenever you need. I’m a New Englander too. Although give me snow over fog any day.”

“Agreed.”

“I hate to even ask, but if we can find a place with coffee—”

“And breakfast,” Austin added.

Gem groaned as her stomach grumbled. “Yes, please.”

“Once we get off the interstate, we ought to run into some diners. That work for you?”

“Diners always work for me.”

Austin smiled. “Perfect.”

Gem liked the way Austin’s quick grin softened the carved line of her jaw and caused a few crinkles to appear at the corner of her eye. Austin drove with an easy sense of confidence and casual focus, radiating the aura of a woman used to doing and being in charge of whatever the action was at the moment. She’d said she had a deadline—she must be some kind of writer. Funny, she looked more suited for a fishing boat somewhere, or riding a four-wheeler up some mountainside, than sitting behind a desk.

“If I didn’t know you were a writer, I would’ve pegged you as an outdoors-woman,” Gem said.

“You wouldn’t be far off,” Austin said carefully. Generally when it came to personal disclosures, she didn’t have any problem blurring the edges of the truth with people she was likely never going to see again. Or even those she might. Confidentiality was built into her, professionally and personally, from an early age. Her father had been active-duty military when she was growing up, and some of his missions had been classified. He’d been closemouthed about what he did, even after he’d moved into more administrative sections. Her mother was a physician, and she didn’t talk about her work very much either. Austin had learned not to probe or to share her own secrets.

When she went into consulting, confidentiality was a given, but working for GOP took that to new heights. She’d signed endless papers binding her to silence, at considerable legal and financial penalty should she break confidence, not that that was ever going to happen. Protecting the reputation of her client, any client, was a point of honor, and she’d learned that from her mother and father too.

Still, maintaining professional barriers bled over into her personal life, where privacy exacted a price. Women found her secretive and aloof, and often translated that into unemotional and cold. She knew because she’d been told more than once by women on their way out of her life. Maybe they were right. No one had broken her heart when they’d left, and maybe that was because she wasn’t the type to invest emotionally. She’d simply rationalized she hadn’t wanted anything serious, but maybe she wasn’t actually capable of it. Not that any of that mattered now. Friendship, at least, she ought to be able to manage without compromising principles or comfort. “I live year-round in a three-room log cabin in the mountains between New York City and Albany. It’s rustic.”

“Define rustic,” Gem said, intrigued. She knew plenty of environmentalists who lived off the grid, but this woman didn’t strike her as that either. She had a patina of sophistication about her, despite the plain khaki pants, unironed cotton shirt, and beat-up leather flight jacket. She could just as easily see her in a tuxedo cradling a champagne flute in her sure, strong hand as she could with her booted feet up on a rough pine railing.

“I heat the place with a wood-burning stove in the winter, so I spend a lot of time doing things like chopping wood, doing my own repairs, and chasing bears away from my recycler.”

“Internet?”

“I’m not that far off-grid. Satellite, which does the job most days.”

“What do you do when you’re not working?”

“I ride a little bit when I have time.” Even though there was hardly any time when she wasn’t working, one way or the other.

“Horses, you mean?”

Austin nodded. “Motorcycles, ATVs too.”

“Let me guess. Snowmobile?”

Austin grinned and turned off the main highway when the in-dash voice instructed her to detour around slow traffic ahead. “Guilty. You?”

“I live just outside Hartford and have an adjunct position at Yale. I ski, and I can always be persuaded to take a long weekend doing just about anything outdoors, any time of the year.”

“What do you teach?”

“Virology.”

“Are you a medical doctor?”

“No, PhD microbiologist. Well, that and an ornithologist.”

Austin glanced at her, one eyebrow quirked. “Really? That’s an interesting combination.”

Gem smiled. “It sounds that way. I went after the birds first.”

“What makes someone want to study birds?”

Gem hesitated over her standard answer, having learned most people didn’t really understand a love of birds. Birds weren’t like domestic pets or even farm animals—not cuddly, or people oriented, or hobby-farm material.

“Is that an insulting question?”

“No!” Gem blushed. “I always wanted to be a bird. This is as close as I could get.”

Austin nodded as if she really understood. “They do seem to have a great life—except I always wonder if they know their existence is just one long struggle to survive. Not just birds—all creatures.”

Gem detected a hint of pain that surprised her. “People too?”

“Maybe us most of all.” Austin blew out a breath. Where the hell had all that come from. She had always been aware of her mortality. She’d learned that in a hospital bed before she could even put the pain and terror into words. But she’d gotten through all that, gotten over being the weak one in the family, the one who wasn’t quite fit enough to fit in with her high-achieving, risk-taking family. “Sorry. I think this soup is getting to me.” She glanced at Gem. “Tell me about the birds. What do you study?”

“I started out with population studies and migratory patterns, and that led me into the study of bird-borne disease.”

“That’s where the virology comes in, I take it.”

“Yes. Now I consult with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service on all kinds of environmental crossovers involving birds.”

“Really.” Austin slowed as a string of taillights ahead of her blinked in the murky light. Warning bells rang. She’d had more than enough contact with Fish and Wildlife agents, since they were usually the first called in environmental contaminations. Like oil spills. “So research is your primary focus?”

“Yes and no. I’m more of a field agent than a bencher. Right now I’m involved in a national study group looking at the presence of avian flu in migratory birds. We think the recent outbreak among chickens in the Midwest was transmitted from a locus in migratory wild geese.”

“And that’s what you’ll be doing on Rock Hill Island?”

“Mostly. It’s the height of the migration season, and we’re expecting a large number of species to make a stopover. We’re banding and cataloging, charting flock size and flight paths, and—” She broke off, laughing. “And I can’t imagine any of that is of interest to you at all.”

“Actually,” Austin said quietly, “I think it’s very interesting. How extensive an area will the birds be occupying?”

“Probably twenty-five miles of shoreline, and inland of course. We have observation stations scattered throughout the refuge. I’ll have one of those cabins.”

“Sounds rustic,” Austin said.

Gem laughed at the way the conversation had come full circle. “I’m going to let my inner geek show. It is pretty primitive, and it’s wonderful. Not totally uncivilized, mind you—we have running water and I can get cell service most days—but there’s no one around for miles. Waking in the morning to nothing but the sound of birds and the wind—and this time of year, rain a lot of the time—is my idea of heaven.” She laughed again. “Out there, I swear sometimes I feel like I really will grow wings.”

Austin glanced at her, not a hint of mockery on her face. “You want to, don’t you?”

“More than anything,” Gem said softly.

“Do you fly?”

“Only when forced.”

Austin grinned, a damnably handsome grin, Gem noticed. That was odd for her too, noticing women she hardly knew in a physical way. But then the whole day was a little out of time—here she was, enclosed in a vehicle with a near stranger, muffled by a blanket of fog as if the rest of the world didn’t even exist, headed along a road she could barely see. She had every reason to be uncomfortable, or at least as guarded when meeting new people as she usually was—no one would ever confuse her with an extrovert—but here she was, chattering away, and enjoying herself. For once, she’d just let things be and not try to analyze everything. What was it Kim always said—she felt with her head and not her heart? Today, she’d just shut off the little voice that cautioned her to be careful, not to give away too much, not to want too much, and just enjoy an interesting and attractive woman’s company. “I always feel like I’m in a cage strapped in with rows and rows of strangers.”

“How about small planes?”

“Not really fond of them.”

“No, really small planes. Like a four-seater.”

“No experience. You?”

“I have a license,” Austin said. “I think it’s a lot like being a bird when you’re in a single-engine four-seater.”

“I can sort of imagine that.”

“We should go up sometime. You might like it.”

Gem almost said yes and caught herself when her inner voice kicked in. Conversation was one thing—socializing was something else again. She didn’t do socializing. She had her fieldwork, her research, and her professional relationships to more than fill her days. She had a nice uncomplicated friendship with Kim for the occasional dinner or a movie or even less occasional sex. Come to think of it, there hadn’t really been any sex for quite some time. When had she stopped caring about that? But if she didn’t miss it, it really couldn’t be very important. Did she really want to complicate her life by spending time with someone new?

“Sorry,” Austin said. “That probably seemed to come out of nowhere. It’s just when you mentioned birds, I immediately thought of flying.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

Austin fell silent.

Ordinarily Gem preferred silence—she loved being alone with her thoughts or hearing nothing but nature’s symphony. But she missed the earthy richness of Austin’s voice instantly. Or maybe she missed the connection that had developed so effortlessly she hadn’t had time to be wary. “Are you a good pilot?”

“My father flew fighter jets in the Middle East. He taught me.” Austin glanced over, her eyes glinting in the reflected light from the dash like a hawk’s eyes catching the slanting rays of the setting sun as it swooped down over a field to grasp its prey. “I’m a damn good pilot.”

“Do you have your own plane?”

Austin hesitated, then nodded. “I do. A Cessna TTx.”

“Uh-huh,” Gem said blankly.

“Cruising speed two hundred and thirty-five knots, range twelve hundred nautical miles.” Austin’s tone was teasing.

“Should I confess I’m completely ignorant of all things mechanical?”

“It’s the eagle of single-engine aircraft. Imagine the majestic wingspan, the speed in flight, the soaring power. Better?”

“Much.” Warmth spread through Gem’s chest. She pushed the pleasure aside. Austin was just one of those people who knew how to charm. It wasn’t personal. “Why aren’t you flying it today?”

“It’s a working getaway and I’m planning to hole up, mostly. The plane would just be sitting on the tarmac the whole time.” Another partial truth—the other part being she had no idea how long she’d be here or where she might have to go after this. She didn’t want to leave her plane at the local airport if she ended up flying cross-country.

“So tell me about your work—you mentioned a deadline. Fiction?”

“Actually I script and illustrate graphic novel adaptations.”

“Really? What kinds?”

“This one is a paranormal urban fantasy series.”

Gem caught her breath. “That’s so cool. Which one?”

Austin figured Gem was being polite—even her brother, who she’d thought would be interested, had written her work off as a weird hobby. Not high-profile enough, she guessed. Still, it was nice that Gem didn’t immediately change the subject.

“The Guild Hunter Chronicles by—”

“Audrey St. James. I love Ciri!”

“You’ve read them?”

“Oh yes, and a lot of others too. Would I know your work?”

Austin laughed. “I doubt it. I think most of my readers are about fifteen and male.”

“I bet you’re wrong. Give me a hint. No, wait. Let me guess.”

“Hold that thought.” Austin narrowed her eyes at a flickering sign up ahead that appeared for a millisecond and just as quickly disappeared. “I think there’s a diner coming up. I could really use some food and fuel.”

“Me too. But I’m not letting you off the hook.”

“You like uncovering things, don’t you?” Austin eased toward the side of the road and pulled off into what felt like a bumpy gravel lot, although she couldn’t really make out the surface as she angled into an open place in front of a long aluminum-sided building that looked like a giant bullet. Lights glowed in a row of windows. An honest-to-God diner. She could’ve wept.

“I’ve always loved secrets,” Gem said, “as long as I was in on them.”

Austin turned off the motor. Too bad her secrets were ones she couldn’t share, especially not with a wildlife biologist whose number-one love was likely to be endangered by Austin’s employer in a matter of days. But who knew? So far the day had gone better than she could have imagined, despite the lousy weather and the delay. It had been months since she had spent this much time alone with a woman when they weren’t rushing to get to bed. The time with Gem had been more satisfying than most of those couplings. Maybe her luck would hold and the catastrophe would be contained by the time she arrived on Rock Hill Island.