The Chilling Deception Read Online Free PDF Page B

the facts right in those old stories."
    Cassidy switched his gaze to Zac. He shrugged good-naturedly and held out his hand again. "I get the picture. Don’t worry, I know private property when it’s marked."
    "I’m glad. Zachariah Justis." He accepted the other man’s hand, ignoring Guinevere’s gathering irritation. The handshake was polite but short. Neither man seemed anxious to prolong the civilities. "You fly the San Juans?"
    "I do a little charter work."
    Zac nodded toward the bobbing plane. "The One Eighty-five is yours?"
    "Yup." Cassidy smiled in bland satisfaction. "Me and that Cessna have been through a lot together. But I don’t think she’s any more used to this cold weather than I am. Guess we haven’t gotten acclimated."
    "Where were you before you came here?" Guinevere asked interestedly. She would speak to Zac later about his rudeness, she decided.
    "Worked the South Pacific," Cassidy said. "Sightseeing trips for tourists, a little mail, some cargo. You name it. Thought it was time for a change, so I threw some darts at a map and came up with the San Juans. Soon as I got a taste of that cold dark water I began to have doubts."
    "It’s cold, all right," Guinevere agreed. "Hypothermia is a real problem around here in boating accidents. During winter a person can’t last long in the water."
    Cassidy sighed. "Back where I come from a man could swim from one island to another as far as those out there and feel like he was in a bathtub the whole way." He indicated the handful of mist-shrouded islets in the distance. "But around here a pilot’s got to carry all kinds of survival gear just in case he does something dumb and winds up in the water."
    "Hey, don’t go into a long lecture on the perils of flying the San Juans, Cassidy," Toby Springer interrupted with a laugh. "I’m down here to see about arranging some tours for Mr. Washburn’s guests. Gwen and Zac here are two of your potential passengers. Be careful, you’ll scare them off."
    Cassidy grinned engagingly, his eyes dancing over Guinevere. "Well now, I surely wouldn’t want to risk that. Don’t you worry about a thing, Miss Jones. I’ll keep you nice and warm during the whole flight."
    "Gwen doesn’t like flying in small planes," Zac said smoothly, conveniently forgetting his earlier comments regarding her lacking spirit of adventure.
    Cassidy looked crestfallen. "Ah, hell, I didn’t mean to scare you off, Gwen. Safe as houses up there. That old Cessna practically knows how to fly herself by now."
    "A cheerful thought. Just the same, I think I’ll do my touring by boat or on foot. Zac’s right. I’m not big on dinky little planes."
    "Dinky!" Cassidy was theatrically offended. "That One Eighty-five is a real workhorse. She can carry six passengers, or a whole mess of cargo."
    Guinevere laughed. "I didn’t mean to insult the plane. Have you been a charter pilot for long?"
    "Since I got out of the army. A long time, Miss Jones. More time than I want to add up." He stepped around her to where he’d coiled the rope, and as he moved Guinevere saw he had a distinct limp. She just knew there would be a good story behind that limp. Old war injury? Plane wreck? Enraged husband? "Hope you change your mind about flying with me, Gwen," Cassidy went on easily as he bent down to collect the rope. "I’d sure love to show you the sights."
    "I’ll bet," Zac muttered. "Come on, Gwen, it’s getting late," he added more loudly. "I promised Vandyke I’d be back by four." He nodded crisply at Cassidy and Springer. "We’ll see you later."
    "Right," Springer agreed. "Probably in the bar. Goodbye, Miss – uh, Jones."
    "Goodbye, Mr. Springer." She didn’t have a chance to do more than nod briefly at Cassidy. Zac was already hauling her back along the plank dock. "Zac, what’s the rush? It’s only three thirty."
    "Somehow," Zac observed caustically, "I get the feeling the entire world is conspiring against me."
    "Sounds like a clear case of