Read Online Against the Wild by Kat Martin - Free Book Online Page B

there. Stuff like that.”
    â€œBy ‘the village’ you mean Yeil?”
    â€œYeah. About a hundred people live there. Lots of them are Tlingits, probably more than half.”
    â€œHave you ever heard them?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThe footsteps.”
    Caleb shook his head. “But I live in one of the cabins. Far as I know, nothing like that has happened since we’ve been here.”
    Lane hesitated. No way could she mention the crying she had heard to Dylan. He’d be sure it was Emily, and Lane didn’t want to lose the little girl’s trust. Still, she needed to know if something odd was going on.
    â€œLast night I heard a child crying. When I went into Emily’s room, she was awake, but she said it wasn’t her.”
    His obsidian eyes widened. “She talked to you?”
    â€œNo, but when I asked her about it, she shook her head. I asked her if she heard the crying and she nodded.”
    He shrugged. “Probably just the wind. It makes some pretty weird noises.”
    â€œI suppose. But it might be interesting to know the history of the lodge. Got any idea how we might find out?”
    â€œIt was built in the early thirties, or somewhere thereabouts. There are some elders in the village who might know something about it.”
    â€œMaybe you could take me to see them.”
    Caleb shook his head. “No way. Not without Dylan. He’s my friend, and I’m not about to go behind his back. If he wants to go, I’ll take you.”
    â€œHe won’t want to go. He’s convinced there’s nothing to the rumors.”
    â€œHe’s probably right.”
    â€œProbably.”
    Caleb sauntered off down the hall, headed for the guest wing, where the crew was hard at work. Lane went to work in the office, trying to decide on the bathroom fixtures, which would have to be ordered and shipped to Waterside. She wanted something with a hint of Art Deco but not too expensive.
    Most people thought of that period as Erté-style sculptures and drawings of sleekly beautiful women, but there had also been great usage of geometric lines and angles, giving the style what looked like an Indian flare. That was the look she wanted.
    Sitting down, she started sifting through catalogs.
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    Dylan walked into the office before supper to find Lane on the Internet. He came up behind her, looked over her shoulder.
    â€œYou’re on Facebook?”
    She nodded. “I don’t go on that often. But being so far from home, it helps me feel connected.”
    He studied the monitor. “You posted the photos you took from the plane.”
    â€œSome of them. And some pictures of the lodge. It’s just so beautiful.”
    He read the posts, which said how amazing the scenery was, how much she was enjoying working on the project, and how glad she was she had come.
    Dylan pulled her up from the chair and into his arms. “I’m glad you came, too.” He kissed her briefly, lightly, felt her tense, and backed away. “You ready for supper?”
    â€œI’m going to check on Finn first, then I’ll be in.”
    â€œI’ll go with you.”
    She didn’t protest when he walked her down the hall, through the mudroom, and out into the side yard. Finn was in the far corner, sniffing something beneath a bush next to the fence.
    â€œOh, crap.” Dylan started running, but it was too late. Finn made a shrieking sound and leaped straight up in the air.
    â€œFinn!” Lane started running. Dylan caught her before she got too close. “What happened? What’s the matter with him?”
    â€œPorcupine. Finn!” Dylan called. “Come here, boy.”
    â€œFinn, come here, baby.” The big dog slowly crossed the yard, head down, tail tucked between his legs. Porcupine quills stuck out of his muzzle and all around his face.
    â€œOh, my God, my poor baby.”
    â€œI’ll get the pliers. You keep him