The Shadow. Aimee Thurlo

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      Emily glanced at her father’s workshop, then back at Jonas. “Before we get back to work, how about if I go get us something to drink from the fridge? Wet and cold.”

      “You’ve got beer?”

      She made a face. “Yuck, no. What do you guys see in that stuff? But I can offer you a strawberry protein drink.”

      “Yeah, okay. As long as it’s wet, I’m good.”

      It took her several minutes to mix the drink, then she placed the pitcher on a tray, with glasses, and headed back outside.

      When she entered the workshop, Jonas stepped around the tall stack of boxes he’d made on a pallet. He’d stripped off his flannel shirt, and the ridges of hard muscle that covered his chest took her breath away.

      She stared openly, unable to stop herself. His body had changed, matured in many ways. The scars on his chest spoke of battles fought—and won. He was far from the pretty-boy type who’d never met a mirror he didn’t like. Yet there was something about Jonas that made her want to run her hands over him, taking a nip here and a taste there.

      A knowing smile tugged at the edges of his mouth, and realizing she’d been staring—and maybe even drooling—she handed him his glass and stepped away.

      “I’ve been rearranging the boxes to make more room,” he said. He took a sip of the drink, scowled slightly, then took another.

      As she looked past him into the far corner, now clear of items, something captured her attention. One of her father’s favorite hiding places had been behind the old sawhorse that had stood there for years.

      Stepping closer, she spotted a narrow gap between a gray electrical panel and the piece of thin wafer board that made up the unfinished interior wall. A piece of what looked like masking tape had come loose and was dangling down. The rest of the wall had been perfectly fitted, so it seemed out of place.

      “There’s something behind there,” she said.

      “There, where?” Jonas asked, following her gaze.

      “Look just to the left of that circuit box or whatever it is. That narrow opening…”

      He nodded. “I see it. All the other joints are perfect, yet that one spot has a shaved edge of wallboard.”

      “Let’s peel back the tape and look inside,” she suggested.

      Reaching for the penlight in his pocket, Jonas aimed the beam into the small gap he’d uncovered. “There’s something back there, all right, but it could just be more tape.”

      “Or not. Let’s loosen the wallboard. This isn’t a full-size four-by-eight piece, anyway. It’s just a long strip.”

      Jonas went to the workbench and returned with a hammer and pry bar. “I’ve got it,” he said, then carefully loosened the nails fastening the edge of the wood to the stud underneath. Once several were loose, he used the pry bar to pull the wallboard away a few inches, further loosening the nails.

      As she watched his muscles rippling as he worked, desire coursed through her. Jonas was thrilling to watch, his body filled with raw power and strength. The temptation to touch him made her fingers tingle and sent flurries of longing all through her.

      Realizing she was playing with fire and would no doubt be burned, she forced herself to look away.

      “Help me pull this board off gently, so we won’t break it,” he said, turning to look at her.

      “Yes, of course,” she replied, her throat as dry as sand.

      He flashed her a grin that spoke volumes.

      Refusing to acknowledge it, she focused on the panel. “Okay, I’m ready,” she said, grasping the bottom.

      They wiggled the board back and forth, and after a minute or two, it came off, with a small cloud of dust.

      The first thing they saw in the space they’d uncovered was a myriad of spiderwebs. One in particular merited their immediate attention. A large, shiny, black widow spider with an orange-red hourglass on her abdomen had spun her web across what appeared to be a rolled up piece of paper covered in plastic. The strong silk filaments of web held the spider in place, upside down, about six inches off the ground.

      Jonas moved around Emily. “I hate to destroy the web, but she can make another. I’ll scoop the spider into a shovel and take her outside.”

      “Just step on it, or squash it against the wall. Black widows are nasty, poisonous things.”

      He shook his head. “Spiders have their place. We’re in no danger, and it’s wrong to kill without a reason. Every action has a reaction, and the way to maintain the hózhq, the beauty and harmony in life, is to respect that everything serves a purpose. That’s how a Navajo walks in beauty, by understanding the design and finding his place in it.”

      By the time Jonas returned from taking the spider outside, Emily had retrieved the paper and was brushing off what was left of the spiderweb.

      “What’ve you got there?” he asked, peering over her shoulder as she slipped off the piece of string that had bound the paper.

      “It looks like a sheet from a photo album or scrapbook.” She studied the symbol drawn on the outside of the folded paper nested inside the plastic sleeve. Flames bounded by a circle… The image looked vaguely familiar. “I’ve seen this before somewhere. How about you?” she asked, showing it to him.

      Although his face was now expressionless, she’d seen the flicker of recognition there. Maybe it was because her eyesight was fading and she was always pushing her visual limits, but she seldom missed nuances these days.

      “I’ve seen it before, too. That’s all I can tell you,” he answered vaguely.

      As she gazed back at the symbol, whispers of a memory echoed at the back of her mind, but she still couldn’t place it.

      “Let’s see what your father went to so much trouble to conceal,” Jonas pressed in a soft voice.

      “I feel a little guilty opening it,” she said with a sad smile, pulling the folded piece of paper out of the plastic. “But if it’s part of the mess I inherited, I’ve got to know.”

      She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but the message inside answered no more questions than the rough penciled drawing on the outside. All it did was raise new ones. At the top of the sheet were the words from Law Rock. Below them were instructions to go in certain directions—measured in compass degrees, at set distances in yards or feet.

      “The directions start from ‘Law Rock’ and obviously result in finding a specific location. But where’s Law Rock?” Jonas murmured. He was all but certain there was no such geological formation in the area. “I’m familiar with most everything around here, but I’ve never heard of that particular formation.”

      “Me, neither,” she answered, handing him the paper.

      He stared at the directions, but at long last shook his head.

      “This might be part of a game СКАЧАТЬ