CHAPTER TWO

After a good mountain breakfast of eggs, toast, sausage and coffee, the couple hopped into the car and drove in the direction of their cabin. They climbed further up into the mountains, a winding road testing Rollin's rented blue convertible. It took Rollin and Cinnamon about forty minutes to reach their destination, while checking out the beautiful scenery of lakes, trees and eventually pausing at the waterfalls the area was so famous for.

They got out of the car when seeing Winton Falls, the largest in the area, to get a better look.

"Rollin, it's beautiful!" Cinnamon commented, her lovely face a combination of approval and wonder. She closed her eyes and lifted her chin, experiencing the moment in a sensory way.

Unable to help himself, noting how striking and ethereal she was with a background of flowing water and flowers, Rollin grabbed the instamatic camera he had tossed on the backseat of the convertible then snapped three photos of his companion. The photos glided gently out of the camera and would take a few minutes to develop. Rollin slid them into his coat pocket to view later.

Back in the car, with Rollin at the wheel, he glanced at Cinnamon and smiled. Having witnessed all the evil they did while working with the IMF, the couple found themselves a little jaded at times. It was a delight to see Cinnamon so pleased and relaxed with the effortless beauty around them; the serenity. She truly seemed to be enjoying herself and he was elated.

When they finally reached the cabin the agents were impressed further. It was larger than they expected, with an enormous covered front porch, decorative crown molding around its gables, a stone chimney, and a white-washed rain barrel fountain in the front yard.

Once inside the delight faded ever so slightly. Although charming and generous, the cabin was dusty and in need of airing. Rollin assisted Cinnamon in with her luggage, dropping them in her bedroom then came out to help her pull sooty sheets from the worn but comfortable-looking furniture.

"It really has been awhile since they rented-out this place." Cinnamon commented then asked him to check the large stone fireplace's vent before they lit a fire later in the evening. The windows were opened and the rugs were shaken.

"No wonder they gave me such a great deal on this place. It will take a day just to get it clean." Rollin then looked out of the main picture window facing in the direction of a lake only a few hundred feet from their cabin. They could hear it from the common room, the sound both soothing and exciting for at least one member of the duo.

"At least electricity and phone services are on." Cinnamon commented as she check both. She then looked up, sensing Rollin hadn't heard her, and suddenly knew why. "I know you are dying to get out of here and fish." Cinnamon watched him from an open kitchen area. Rollin could hardly keep his eyes off of the fishing rods propped against the cabin under the outside awning. "It's early. Why don't you go out for a couple of hours. By the time you come back I'll have a late lunch waiting." She opened the small refrigerator to be certain it too was working and filled as they had been promised.

Rollin appeared conflicted, "I don't want to leave you with cooking and housework." He said, "That's hardly a nice vacation for you."

"I'm not afraid of a little hard work. Besides, tomorrow you will be doing the cooking." She reminded with a clever smirk, "Meanwhile, I'll change into some proper clothes and get to work. Just remember, if you catch some fish, clean them before bringing them into the cabin."

Rollin smiled and chuckled. Cinnamon, although always charming, could be quite bossy when she wanted to be. He liked it. With a nod, Rollin moved to his own room and change clothes.

By the time he returned with a couple of nice fresh water bass, Cinnamon had the cabin looking like something out of Living Well. A nice blaze was crackling in the fireplace, the cushions on the sofa and chair had been freshened and fluffed, and the floor was swept and vacuumed.

Still, with all of this done, he could smell something delicious in the direction of the kitchen and Cinnamon, dressed in jeans, a loose flannel shirt and a green scarf wrapped around her well styled hair, still managed to look fresh and attractive.

"Is there nothing you can't do?" he asked, gently laying his catch on some spread newspapers on a side counter.

"More than I'd like to admit." She said, slightly distracted as she set two places on a small round table behind the sofa. "I decided on something simple for our first night. It's chicken soup and home baked bread and butter. I also made a small chopped salad for both of us." She looked up and over at him, "Is that okay?"

"It's perfect, actually. I'll stow the fish in the fridge and we can have them tomorrow."

Cinnamon nodded and watched as Rollin, wearing a denim open-necked collar work shirt and a light over-coat, wrapped the bass and turned to do what he said. His hair was slightly mussed and, sitting in the sun, he managed to darken his tan ever so slightly, bringing out his blue eyes. Rustic living suited him, she thought. Cinnamon found herself thinking of a few other things as well but kept them to herself. "If you would like wine there are a couple bottles in the fridge."

"Why don't we wait and have it tonight … in front of the fire." He did not look at her but his voice had softened.

"That's a lovely idea." Cinnamon murmured.


Later that evening, they found a large clean soft rug and laid it in front of the sofa just before the fireplace. The couple sat on the floor, cross-legged, and drank the delicious red wine while gazing into the fire. It was 9pm and the day had been busy but satisfying.

"Maybe tomorrow we can take a walk in the woods and do some exploring." Cinnamon suggested.

He agreed and liked the change from their active day. The evening was meant for quiet conversation, the here and now, and remembrances of past times they had shared together. Their experiences, as a very young couple in New York, were like something out of a dream. It had happened but, looking back, it hardly seemed real.

Cinnamon still had trouble believing she was nearly the victim of a serial murderer and Rollin could only focus on meeting her before she had become a seasoned agent, cool and collected as they all had to be to do their job well.

And – of course – they had been lovers. Few knew about it, that he and Cinnamon had a history together, and it was not information the couple had divulged during their rigorous IMF job interviews. As a matter of fact, the agents had agreed to keep themselves well a part while working with the IMF. They could not be too careful or distracted …

But something had changed very recently.

Although neither would admit it just yet, both were contemplating the day when they would leave their work and go onto something else. And – perhaps – if the other was interested they might be able to do it together. That is, if the feelings they had felt for each other ten years ago were still intact today. They were so young back then. Perhaps this weekend was a tester to see if that fire, that sense of devotion, remained.

"Whatever happened to Patricia?" Rollin asked Cinnamon, recalling her leggy roommate.

"She married. Has four kids and is living somewhere upstate. I haven't heard from Pat in years." Cinnamon sipped her wine then asked Rollin, who visited New York far more often than herself, "Is the nightclub still there?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact last year I did a one man show at Club Avalon, that's what they call it now, for a few performances. It's updated and the owner reminds me of Humphrey Bogart." The couple chuckled then Rollin got to his feet. "Almost forgot. I want to see how the pictures I took of you near the falls turned out." He pulled them from his coat pocket and without looking, passed them to Cinnamon for inspection. As he sat again on the floor he noted a rather serious expression on her face as she examined the photos. "Something wrong? Are they blurry?"

"No …" She passed one then another to him, "Look. There's a man there. I never saw anyone, did you?"

It was true. Cinnamon was posed before one of the falls smiling, appearing happy and lovely, and just behind her on the other side of the water stood a tall man with a beard. He was staring at her and seemed very tense.

"I never saw him either." Rollin admitted. "But the falls are famous so I suppose there could very well have been someone there we missed."

"I suppose so." Cinnamon still seemed a little disturbed as Rollin took her glass and filled it again. "But you would have thought one of us would have …."

"The noise of the waterfall, the distraction of the flora and fauna …" He smiled gently and touched her hair, "… and other beautiful things. Is it any wonder we were preoccupied?"

The photographs forgotten, Cinnamon looked up at him and noted their close proximity. Those fingers that had touched her hair were now softly dragging across her smooth cheek and she would be lying if she told Rollin she did not like it. Cinnamon looked up into his eyes, once again fascinated by their lovely color and his soft, generous mouth that was mere inches away from her own.

He nearly bent down and claimed her lips with his own when a loud crack was heard against the side of the cabin.

"What was that?" Cinnamon cried, startled.

They both stood, placing their glasses on the tables on either side of the sofa.

Rollin grabbed for his coat and a large flashlight Cinnamon found in a cabinet earlier in the day. She slipped on a sweater and followed him out of the cabin.

It was a cool, clear night, the stars winking up above, and the forest beyond them was dark and filled with the sounds of nature. Rollin flashed the light everywhere but saw nothing. He did, however, find a large branch that had fallen near the fireplace. "The wind must have blown it." He told her. "It must have hit against the house. That's what we heard."

"It sounded a lot louder than a branch smacking against the cabin, Rollin." She said.

Then they heard a call. It came from deep within the woods, holding a ghastly and ghostly echo. The cry sounded determined and nearly heartbroken: "Madelyn McCaukey, come to me! I need you! I love you! Madelyn!"

The agents looked at each other, wide eyed.

"Let's go back in the cabin." Rollin said and took Cinnamon's hand, pulling her along with him.


CHAPTER THREE COMING SOON.