A shiver of apprehension shimmied down her back. She bent to inspect the liquid and the surrounding earth. “Either this fluid has been flowing for a long time or someone has made a shallow trench.”
She hated that someone had deliberately funneled toxins into the lake. She couldn’t imagine for what purpose other than to poison the water. Someone who would have such little regard for the environment and human life wouldn’t think twice about killing them. A ribbon of fear snaked through her, raising the fine hairs at her nape.
In a low crouch, Jeff searched the ground in a wide radius. “That’s the only impression I see.”
“Is that good or bad?”
Shrugging, he straightened. “Both. Other than right next to the moist dirt, the ground is dry and solid. The dead leaves and fallen branches create a barrier, so the soil isn’t exposed enough for more prints. But that doesn’t mean we can’t tell if an animal or a person passed through the forest duff.”
He pointed out a broken twig. “Something came this way.”
Tessa’s anxiety kicked up, making her tightly strung nerves even more taut. The forest grew thicker, more oppressive the farther they ventured in. She pointed to their left, where the leaves of the forest floor had been disturbed. “And went that way.”
They pressed on. Jeff halted abruptly, putting a hand out to gently touch her arm.
Apprehension crawled up her neck. Her mouth went dry. “What?”
He glanced around, behind them to the sides. “I don’t know. I thought I heard something.”
They stood still and silent for a long moment, letting the sounds of the forest settle. Tessa clenched her hands tight to keep from reaching for Jeff.
A bird chirped high in a tree off to the right.
A chipmunk scurried out of the bushes and darted past them.
Some of the tension visibly drained from Jeff. Tessa reached for her water bottle and drank a few sips to relieve the dryness in her throat. But the lukewarm water did nothing to ease the strain wreaking havoc on her system. They pressed on. Fatigue pulled at the muscles in her legs, making the journey more labored.
Jeff broke the silence. “Where’d you grow up?”
She slanted him a quick look. “Chicago. You?”
“Seattle. Do you have a boyfriend?”
Her steps faltered. “That’s a little personal, don’t you think?”
“Is it? Seems like a reasonable question to ask someone you’re running for your life with.”
“Does it matter?”
“Not to me,” he said. “Just a question.”
For some reason his answer annoyed her. “Why wouldn’t you ask if I was married?”
He reached out to help her over a branch that lay across their path. “You don’t wear a ring.”
Placing her hand in his, Tessa stared, fascinated with the way his bigger, stronger hand engulfed her smaller one and by the contrast in their skin tone. Her white skin, dotted with freckles, was a trait handed down by her Irish heritage.
His suntanned, olive skin was earned protecting the border, but she wondered what he did on his days off. What were his hobbies, his passions? Did he have a family? She gave herself a mental shake. What was she doing? His personal life was none of her business. She yanked her gaze to his face and stepped over the branch. “Neither do you.”
Releasing his hold on her, he moved away. “Which means I’m not married.”
She hurried to stay in step with him. “Some guys don’t wear rings.”
“Neither do some women. But I would if I was. But I’m not.” He arched an eyebrow. “So?”
She clenched her hand around her water bottle. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I don’t have a boyfriend. Do you have a girlfriend?”
“No time for one. What’s your excuse?”
She let out a wry laugh. “The same, I suppose.” Seemed they both had reasons for not being in a relationship, reasons that, apparently, neither cared to share.
“What do your parents do?”
She frowned. She didn’t like discussing her family. Jeff glanced at her, clearly waiting for her answer. When she didn’t respond, he stopped and glanced around. “This would be a good time for a break.”
He led the way to a fallen maple and sat. He accepted the snack bar she offered and continued to stare at her as he ate. She wondered if he used the silent stare as an interrogation tactic.
She sighed and sat on the ground with her back against a tree. “Dad’s a lawyer. Mom owns a floral-design shop. Yours?”
“Doctors.”
The clipped way he answered sounded almost derisive. Interesting. Two could indulge in a little interrogation. She knew how to cross-examine. She’d certainly been on the receiving end of her father’s inquiries enough. She leaned forward and placed her elbows on her knees. “What type?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Dad’s a cardiologist and a professor at the University of Washington’s medical school. Mom’s a neurosurgeon.”
“Impressive. Those are specialized practices. How come you didn’t go into medicine?”
He scoffed, “Not my forte. Why did you become a fish biologist?”
That was an easy question. One she was often asked. “I grew up in the city but longed to be outdoors. I knew early I wanted to work for the Forest Service. After receiving my B.S. in environmental studies, I went on to get my master’s in water science, then my Ph.D. in ecology.”
“Your parents must be proud of you,” he said.
She shrugged, wincing inwardly at the shaft of hurt tearing through her. “I suppose.”
She was loath to admit she didn’t have much of a relationship with either one of her parents so had no idea if they were proud or not. Neither had ever said the words to her.
He leaned forward, studying her as if she were a bacterium in a petri dish. “You don’t know?”
“Mom thinks I should get married and have babies. Dad’s glad I have a job.” That was about as close to an affirmation from him as she’d get. Dad was a perfectionist who expected everyone else to live up to the same standards that he had set for himself regardless how impossible. Few people could keep up verbally with her father. A great trait in a lawyer, but not so much in a father or, apparently, a husband.
“That’s pretty typical, isn’t it?”
She tucked in her chin. “Why? Because I’m female? Aren’t you getting pressure from your mom to settle down and give her grandchildren?”
He gave a resigned shake of his head. “No. My mom didn’t have time for her own kid. She certainly wouldn’t have time for grandchildren. I doubt she’s given it any thought.”
“What do you mean, she didn’t have time for you?” What kind of father would Jeff be? Involved and committed or one who showed up late or not at all, like her dad?
“Doctors, remember?” He rose and placed the strap of her duffel across his body. “Their patients came first. Always.”
Though his tone was even, she detected a hint of pain underlying his words. Her heart cramped with empathy. She scrambled to her feet. “Are your parents still together?”
“Yep. Nearly forty years. They still live in the same house.”
“Wow,