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p; “But why?” Before he could answer she held up her hand and chewed on her lower lip. “Because of the election. You think that he’s so paranoid you might win, that he set up the accident to warn you in hope that you might back out, right?”
“That’s the way I have it figured.”
Ashley managed a humorless smile. “I think you’ve been reading too many spy stories lately, Senator. Your entire theory reads like some cheap James Bond rip-off.”
“Maybe that’s because you can’t see the truth when it stares you in the face, Ashley,” he suggested with a frown. Deep furrows lined his forehead and surrounded the tense corners of his mouth. “But then you never have been able to sort fact from fiction where your family is concerned. You probably still don’t believe that Stephens Timber was responsible for the ecological disaster near Springfield.”
“My father denied it,” Ashley whispered.
“But you know better, don’t you? Your father’s company was spraying with a dangerous pesticide, Ashley. Probably because Lazarus recommended it. It was effective and cheap.”
“No one knew it was dangerous—”
Trevor’s eyes glittered ominously. “There had already been cases linking that pesticide with health hazards. The FDA was in the process of banning it. But your father didn’t listen and the people living near the area that was being sprayed paid for it, didn’t they?”
“It was never proven—”
“That’s a cop-out, Ashley and you know it. Maybe you just preferred to hide your head in the sand. You didn’t have to look into the eyes of the people when they found out that they were dying. The effects of the spray sometimes take months to show up, but when they do, the result is the same—a slow and painful death.”
“No one knows if the pesticide was the cause.”
“Yet. Researchers are still working on it.” The skin stretched tightly over Trevor’s harsh features as he remembered the day he had to revise Dennis Lange’s will. Dennis was only thirty-three when he had come to Trevor’s office, and mentioned that he had some of the symptoms of the pesticide poisoning. Dennis had died six months later, leaving a young widow and three-year-old daughter. Trevor had vowed on his friend’s grave that if he ever was in a position of power, he would fight against the indiscriminate use of chemicals on the environment. “Your father knew about the hazards, it was just more convenient to ignore them.”
Masking the fact that his words had wounded her heart, Ashley turned, walked out of the room, grabbed her jacket and reached into a downy pocket for the keys to the Jeep. She had already pulled on her boots, zipped the ski jacket to her neck and wound her hair into her stocking cap by the time Trevor joined her in the small foyer. “Let’s go,” she whispered while purposely avoiding the silent questions in his bold eyes.
* * *
The Lambert cabin was only a little over a mile up the hill, but the drive took nearly ten minutes because of the snow that had drifted over the seldom-used road. The storm wasn’t nearly as fierce as it had been, but large flakes still drifted leisurely to the ground and danced in the bright beams of the headlights.
Though it was nearly nine o’clock, it seemed like daylight. The pristine drifts of snow, settled carelessly against the trunks of graceful Ponderosa pines, gave the night a blue-gray illumination. Clumps of pine needles protruded proudly from their winter cloak of white and the shadowy mountains blended into the dark sky.
Ashley had to wipe the windshield with a cloth as condensation collected on the cold glass. The Jeep hit a patch of ice. One tire spun wildly, causing the vehicle to slide on the slippery terrain and roughly tossing the passengers against the dash. Trevor winced in pain when his shoulder was thrust against the door.
“Are you all right?” Ashley asked, when the wheels of the Jeep were securely gripping the gravel once again. Her elegant face was pinched with concern.
“Just great,” Trevor replied sarcastically. “Thanks to your cousin Claud.”
Ashley pursed her lips together angrily and the remainder of the trip was made in mutual silence.
Lights were glowing in the paned windows of the Lambert cabin. Trevor’s pickup was parked near the garage. Nearly three inches of snow had piled on the hood and roof of the truck.
Ashley stopped the Jeep and pulled on the emergency brake, but let the engine idle. She turned to face Trevor and found that he was staring thoughtfully at her. His eyes were deep blue and sensual. They seemed to caress her face.
“You could come in,” he invited, tugging gently on her stocking cap and allowing her hair to fall in wisping black curls around her face. Her breath caught in her throat at the intimacy of the gesture.
“I . . . I don’t think so,” she whispered, shaking her head and avoiding his probing stare. “It would be best, for both of us, if I left.”
When his fingers softly touched her temple, they trembled. Ashley closed her eyes and moved her head away from his persuasive touch. “You’ll be okay, won’t you . . . by yourself ?” she asked, thinking of his injury. In the close quarters of the Jeep, it was difficult not to feel the urgency of his touch.
“I’ll manage,” he said, his voice tight.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m used to doing things on my own, Ashley,” he reminded her. “I can take care of myself.”
“And that’s why you spent a week in the hospital.”
His jaw clenched furiously as he reached for the handle of the door. “You can blame Claud for that one.”
