The Pirate & The Adventurer & The Cowboy

around the small room, checking for any obvious sign that someone else might be nearby. A heavy stillness greeted her. Then, very cautiously, she followed the instructions in Amelia Cavendish's diary and pushed the metal baluster on the third step from the bottom. It gave easily—so easily that Kate knew it was kept well-oiled. But that made sense, she reminded herself. Jared apparently used the secret room frequently.

    There was a soft, mechanical grinding sound from deep within the stone walls and very slowly a small section opened up to reveal inky darkness.

    Along with the darkness came a rush of cool air, the tang of the sea and the sound of water lapping at stone. Kate edged forward and aimed the flashlight into the hidden room.

    The light bounced on the rippling surface of dark seawater then skidded a few feet to the right to reveal a short stone quay. Several large cartons were stacked beside the water. Kate stepped through the entrance and peered around with the aid of the flashlight.

    She was looking at the inside of a natural cavern that had been formed aeons ago out of cooling lava. The room, as Amelia claimed in her diary, had been converted into a docking facility. She knew the chamber had an opening to the sea, but when she aimed the light at the far end of the cavern she saw only solid stone. Amelia's diary had not mentioned where to find the mechanism that opened the stone wall at the far end of the room.

    It was clear there was plenty of room to tie up a small cruiser or similar boat here inside the hidden chamber. Back in Amelia and Roger's day, a row boat, an outrigger canoe or a sailboat could have been kept inside, ready for an emergency escape. Especially sensitive cargoes could be stored here, far from prying eyes.

    There was a chill in the dark room that was not entirely from the sea. She did not want to hang around here for very long, she decided. There was something eerie about the place.

    It didn't take long to convince herself that there wasn't much more to see. She darted the flashlight beam over the twisted lava walls and along the far side of the man-made quay and was about to turn back into the stairwell when she caught a glimpse of yellow at the edge of her light.

    For an instant Kate went very cold. She had a sudden vision of someone lurking in the shadows of the hidden room, waiting to pounce on her. The memories of Jared discovering her the last time were all too clear.

    But a few seconds later, as she still stood motionless in the opening, she realized the bit of yellow was not moving. She aimed the beam directly at it and saw a bright yellow stripe that was very familiar. It was part of a black-and-yellow wet suit.

    Jeff Taylor's tanks and the remainder of his gear lay nearby.

    Kate waited no longer. She backed out of the room, ran to the stone staircase and shoved hard at the baluster. The opening in the wall creaked shut.

    She switched off the flashlight and bounded up the stairs.

    It wasn't until she was safely outside and on the path that led back to the resort that Kate's jumbled thoughts finally slowed and settled down into meaningful patterns.

    Trusting Jared was one thing. A part of her was surprisingly willing to do exactly that, though that same part did not approve of the mystery. But surely she was not obliged to blindly trust all these other people who appeared to be involved in whatever was going on around here.

    Jared inhaled deeply as he walked into the cool tiled hall. The aroma of simmering taco filling emanating from the kitchen was delightful. He hadn't had tacos in ages. It made him realize how much he had missed the pleasure of walking into the house after a day's work and finding dinner cooking on the stove. Kate would probably be quick to tell him that was a sign of outdated male chauvinism. Jared decided he'd better enjoy it while he could.

    There was no telling where his next all-American home-cooked meal was coming from, he realized. Unless he did something about it, he and David would be back to eating the creations of the restaurant's three gourmet chefs. That meant back to marinated goat cheese, sun-dried tomatoes and seafood pâtés. David would never forgive him.

    Jared ambled into the kitchen and found it empty except for the gently steaming pot on the stove. He walked past Jolly's cage and the big bird mumbled an aggrieved squawk. Jared stopped long enough to scratch the parrot's head.

    "I still say she can't bake cookies,"