Mortal Danger

John wouldn’t say why the authorities had sought him. Later, he denied that it had been anything very important—just Marilyn’s meanness, as she enjoyed getting him into trouble.
    As always, Kate believed him.
     
    All in all, their travels were carefree. John’s mother’s bequest saw him through a jobless period easily, and he assured Kate that the next career he picked would be far more rewarding—both monetarily and in terms of helping people—than any he’d had before. They were in no hurry, and their almost-endless trip erased the stress that they’d both been living with for so long.
    John and Kate liked the Oregon coast a lot and were even more taken with Orcas Island, a tiny dollop of land north of Deception Pass between British Columbia and northwestern Washington State. Orcas was reachable only by ferries, and it had kept its windswept, small-town ambiance, which attracted artists, tourists, and salt-of-the-earth longtime residents.
    Kate was charmed by Orcas Island, but she pointed outthat the only way to get on or off the island was by ferry, and that could be a hassle. John agreed with her. He preferred Gold Beach, even though naturopaths could not be licensed to practice in Oregon. It was a moot question at this point; they were weighing all kinds of possibilities for bringing nutritional remedies to those who needed them badly. That would mean weeks of travel around America, and perhaps even in Canada. They weren’t ready to settle down yet, but they both hoped to live in the Northwest some day. Neither of them liked the rootless feeling of being on the road without a home base.
    Kate had no intention of giving up flying for American Airlines, but she had enough seniority to take long leaves of absence.
    As the miles rolled away beneath their tires, they discussed John’s ideas, and Kate followed his lead. She loved him, admired him, and believed in his innovative plans. If there were any fissures in his perfectly groomed, self-confident façade, Kate saw them revealed only briefly. John always had what seemed like a sound physiological reason—fatigue, low blood sugar, or something else—for his sudden rages.
    They had gone through so much to be together, and she finally accepted that she had found the perfect relationship she had longed for all of her life.
    Or so she thought.

Chapter Three
    By 1994, although happily unmarried, Kate Jewell and John Branden grew tired of the road and were ready to settle down—at least enough to have a home to come back to. John constantly wanted to move on to another of his schemes for success—one more suited to his area of expertise—but they both wanted to live on the Oregon coast.
    Kate and John scouted for condos to buy, but those they looked at felt cramped and too close to other units. They were about to give up when they found a perfect spot in Gold Beach. It was a house surrounded by trees, a small shake cottage with a shake roof, Dutch doors, and a yard full of sword ferns and rhododendrons. It was a rental, but they had an option to buy this secluded, woodsy property. They hoped to do that as soon as possible. There was room for a big garden, and neighbors close enough that they weren’t completely isolated but not so close that they had no privacy. It was rustic, but not rugged, with thick-piled carpet, new appliances, a modern bathroom, and a big deck.
    John’s bequest from his mother’s estate was long gone, and they couldn’t afford to buy the house outright, butDoris and Bill Turner, the couple who owned it, became their good friends—especially Kate’s—and they wanted the younger couple to have the place.
    “It was like living in a park,” Kate said. “A forested park, and we had a glimpse of the ocean through the trees. We were as likely to see deer in our yard as we were squirrels. We both loved it.”
    John Branden, however, insisted that they clean every corner of their new home before they moved in. He was fanatic about germs. He washed his hands compulsively—almost like Shakespeare’s Lady Macbeth.
    “John wouldn’t wear clothes inside if he’d worn them outdoors,” Kate said. “He insisted on changing so we wouldn’t bring in germs. If I sat in ‘his’ chair with ‘street clothes’ on, he freaked. I had to be really careful when I washed dishes, and make sure I wiped out the sink ‘to get rid of bacteria and water spots.’ He usually had to go back and do it over, which was also a way to erode my