Donovans 01 - Amber Beach

panel in with the rest of the amber when it was loaded. Kyle didn’t have to know anything about it.”
    “I packed every piece of that shipment myself. There was nothing but raw amber. Nothing.”
    Honor’s eyelids flinched. She didn’t say a word.
    “I turned the truck over to Kyle,” Jake continued relentlessly, “to take to the driver he had hired. Before the truck left Kaliningrad, the driver was murdered and dumped by the side of the road. A man matching Kyle’s description was seen driving the truck over the Russian border. The truck hasn’t been seen since. Kyle has. Here. Two weeks ago. Not once in the four weeks he has been missing did he call his loving family to let them know he was all right. Now, tell me again how I’m a coldhearted son of a bitch to think your brother is guilty.”
    Honor’s expression went from stubborn to despairing.
    Jake should have felt better that she finally seemed to be believing him. He didn’t. It was hard to feel good about anything that made Honor look like she had been hit by a truck.
    The silence made the rhythmic clicking of the turn signal seem as loud as a drum roll.
    The unmarked police car was still parked in the small turnout near the cottage.
    “He’s going to rust right into the ground,” Honor said in a harsh voice.
    “Who?”
    “The cop with the radar unit.”
    “He doesn’t give a damn about writing tickets. He’s watching your driveway, not traffic.”
    “Wonderful. What if I flip him off just to let him know I care?”
    “He has an eight-hour shift. He can spend it giving you a hard time or he can sit there and read girlie magazines.”
    Honor kept both hands on the wheel as she turned into the driveway.
    “How long will it take you to pack?” Jake asked.
    “No time at all. I’m not packing.”
    With an effort he managed not to say the first red-hot thing that came to his mind.
    “What do you have against coming to my cabin?” he asked evenly. “My bed is bigger than the one here. You’ll be able to put your whole damned suitcase between us.”
    Ignoring him, Honor got out of the truck.
    Jake opened the glove compartment, grabbed the gun, and caught her before she reached the front door.
    “No,” he said through his teeth. “Let me check the place out first.”
    “I locked it.”
    He gave her a disgusted look. “You’ve got a good brain, buttercup. Use it.”
    She looked at his gun. “I find it hard to believe that I’m a—a target or whatever.”
    “Believe it. You’re the key to the Donovan castle. Someone could grab you and open negotiations for the Amber Room.”
    “I don’t have it.”
    “The Donovans do.”
    “Like hell!”
    “Prove it.”
    Her mouth opened. Nothing came out.
    “Now you’re catching on,” he said. “You can’t prove a negative. Give me the key.”
    “I thought all you secret agent types carried a lock pick.”
    “Lock pick? Sure thing. I have one right here.” Jake lifted his boot to kick in the door.
    “Never mind,” she said quickly. “Here.”
    “Stay outside until I come back for you.”
    “This is ridiculous.”
    “Amen. Stay here.”
    Divided between anger and a nagging fear, Honor waited. Though it wasn’t long before Jake returned, it felt like an hour to her.
    “Like I said,” she muttered, stepping around him to get through the door, “this is— Damn! I forgot.”
    “I didn’t. Watch your step. Paper can be as slippery as ice.”
    Picking up what she could, Honor threaded her way through the mess the intruder had made. Finally she reached the desk. The answering machine didn’t show a message light.
    “Sure you wouldn’t rather come to my cabin?” Jake asked. “I’m not the world’s neatest housekeeper, but I’m better than this.”
    She didn’t bother to respond.
    “Hell,” he muttered. “I’ll check on the boat, then I’ll be back to help you put this together.”
    Before Jake got his foot out the door, the telephone rang. Sourly he thought that whoever was spying on the cottage had a good communication network. He and Honor hadn’t been back five minutes and already the fun was beginning.
    She grabbed the phone. “Hello?”
    “Hello. Who is this?”
    “Honor Donovan. Who are you?”
    “We have not met, but Kyle has talked much about you. My name is Marju. Kyle is my fiancé. May I come and talk with you?”

18
    “W ELL?” HONOR ASKED impatiently, trying to look past Jake’s shoulders. She was eager to see the woman who claimed to be