Deep Waters

could tell it rankled. I'm surprised he didn't retaliate in some way."
    Charity had a sudden vision of the night she had returned home to find her cottage vandalized. The damage had been done less than a week after she had turned down Swinton's demand for a date. "Maybe he did," she said softly.
    Phyllis didn't seem to hear her. "You came straight to me with the pictures. You didn't even try to manipulate me."
    Charity clasped her hands tightly together. "What do you think I am?"
    "You've made it clear during the past couple of months that you're determined to fight me every inch of the way when it comes to the issue of Crazy Otis Landing."
    "You must have a pretty low opinion of me even to suggest that I'd use photos like that to get what I want."
    A dark flush appeared in Phyllis's cheeks. "Sorry. I should be down on my knees thanking you, not lashing out. I suppose I've gotten so accustomed to thinking of you as an adversary that it's hard to understand why you came here today to do me a favor."
    "Is it? I think that if the situation were reversed, you would have done the same for me. We've been on opposite sides in a struggle over the pier, but we certainly don't hate each other."
    Phyllis frowned. "No, of course not."
    "And we both play fair."
    "Yes. But sometimes it's too easy to become totally focused on a goal. Too easy to forget about the personal side of things. Law and politics do that to a person."
    "Other things besides law and politics can have the same effect." Charity glanced at the envelope. "Is that all of the photos?"
    "Yes, thank God. When I realized what he was doing, I came unglued. I undid the cuffs and grabbed the camera. Smashed it. But he already had those three shots." Tears glistened in her eyes. "I still can't believe I was so stupid."
    Charity was stunned by the sight of the unstoppable Phyllis Dartmoor in tears. "Don't. It'll be all right." She rose quickly and crossed the short distance to put her arm around Phyllis's stiff shoulders. She recalled what Elias had said. "At least they're Polaroids. Single shots. That means it's very unlikely that there are any duplicates."
    Phyllis's eyes widened. "Good God. I forgot about that possibility."
    "From the looks of those photos, Swinton was obviously not a professional photographer. I think it's safe to assume he didn't have any way to duplicate them in that motor home of his, and he could hardly take them to a commercial photo lab."
    "That's true." Phyllis blinked back her tears. She did not look entirely reassured, but she had regained a measure of composure. She looked up at Charity. "I'll burn these immediately."
    "Good idea." Charity hugged her quickly and released her. "Hang in there, Phyllis. You've got the photos. The worst is over."
    "You're right." Phyllis raised her chin. It was clear that her natural self-confidence and determination were already kicking back in. "I swear, I could kill that S.O.B., Rick Swinton."
    Charity rose quietly and let herself out the front door.
    She was still reflecting on the interview with Phyllis an hour later as she sat in the passenger seat of her Toyota and watched the narrow road unwind through the windshield. The fog had lifted, but it had begun to rain. The tall, stately firs on either side of the pavement dripped. Puget Sound was a leaden gray.
    Elias drove her car the way he did everything else, with a control that was so complete it appeared effortless. Charity could feel him sinking deeper into the cold waters of his own thoughts.
    "What did you do with Otis?" she asked to break the silence.
    "Left him with Yappy."
    "That's good. Otis loves the carousel. After Hayden died there were some days when a spin on a horse was the only thing that would lift his spirits enough to give him an appetite."
    "You know, Charity, Otis really is very grateful for the way you looked after him during the weeks following Hayden's death. He just doesn't know how to express himself well."
    "Yeah, right."

14

    He who would change the future course of the river must be prepared to get his hands wet in the waters of the past.

    - "On the Way of Water," from the journal of Hayden Stone

    "So you managed to force your way in here, Winters." Garrick Keyworth did not turn around. He spoke from the depths of a wingback chair that faced the rain-drenched garden. "Disappointed that I was unsuccessful? Never did like pills. Couldn't keep the damn things down long enough to do the job. But don't fret. Hell, maybe next time