Wyatt smoothed his mustache. “Yeah. He told me today. Did he tell you who bought it? And what they’re going to do with it?”
“He didn’t know.” Bram looked toward the lobby. “Maybe someone wasn’t happy with the sale. Guess one way to cool any interest is to turn this place into a death camp.”
“Who? And why?”
“Don’t know. Just saying.” He turned and ambled toward the lobby.
While they’d been searching the lodge, Cookie had shifted to a semiseated position, though she still held the towel of ice to her head. Her color was normal. She opened her mouth when she saw them, then closed it.
“Cookie,” Wyatt said. “You were heading to the staff housing. I take it you didn’t get a chance to go inside?”
She shook her head, then winced.
“We’ll start there. But we can’t leave the four of you here unarmed.”
“Give Darby your rifle,” Bram said.
“Why don’t you give her your Glock?”
“Ah . . .” Darby had grown pale. “Give the gun to Roy.”
Bram clenched his jaw and handed his pistol to Roy. “Do you know how to use—”
“Yes.” He took the pistol, pulled back the slide, chambered a bullet, then gave Bram a jerk of his head.
“Let’s secure the lodge as much as possible.” Bram glanced around the room, then retrieved a chair, which he wedged under the front doorknob. “Wyatt, see if you can block the kitchen door. Darby, we’ll go out the back. I want you to do the same to that door if you can.”
She narrowed her eyes, tightened her mouth, and looked like she was about to punch him.
“Um . . . be careful.” He picked up a chair and headed to the back door. Darby followed. Wyatt soon joined them.
“You’re not wearing your glasses,” Wyatt said to Darby. “Looks good.”
Bram clenched his fist and bit back his reply. “Let’s go.”
Outside, they waited until they heard the bump of Darby wedging the chair under the knob. The sun was dipping behind the mountains and the air was cool and sharp. The staff building matched the rustic log structure of the lodge and was about two hundred feet from the main building.
Wyatt took the lead while Bram kept watch from the rear. They entered the shared living area, a comfortable room with well-worn furniture and smelling faintly of cigarette smoke. The men’s bunk room was on the left, women’s on the right. Swiftly they checked the men’s side. Empty. Returning to the living area, Bram leading this time, they opened the door to the women’s side. Also empty.
The long shadows and dense pines formed perfect locations for sniper’s nests. “We need to keep moving.” Bram nodded toward his right. “Darby and I were in the barn, but we didn’t look beyond the body in the stall. How well did you check the rest of the stalls, loft, and tack room?”
“It’s clear. Cabins?”
“Let’s go. When we get to the cabin where the wrangler’s body is, we’ll move it inside for now. Keep low and don’t run in a straight line.” Both men dashed for the line of cabins. Half an hour later the sun had set and they’d uncovered only empty rooms, cleaned and waiting for guests. They moved the body of the wrangler before heading to the final cabin. Here the knob turned, but the door remained closed.
Bram rattled the knob, then banged on the door. “Anyone here? It’s Deputy White.”
A thump, then the door opened.
All three of the female staff members were in the room. They appeared to have been crying. “Wh-wh-what happened to Gary?” the oldest of the three asked.
“Gary?”
“The man, the horse man.” The woman spoke with a strong Polish accent. “Zofia found him.” She nodded at a short blond woman. “She said . . . someone kill him.”
“I’m afraid so. What happened here after the supply wagon left?” Bram asked.
“We started cleaning.” Zofia waved at the other two. “I saw the men bringing some horses when I finish cabin five. I keep working to here. That’s where I found Gary. I scream and Maja and Alicja ran over. We decided not safe out there. We . . .” She paused to search for a word.
“Shove.” Maja made a motion as if pushing a chair. “Blocked the door. We wait.”
“Did you see any of the guests?” Bram asked.
“I think some were going to pond.” Zofia looked at her watch. “But that was long time ago. Maybe they now dead—”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Wyatt looked at Bram. “We’ll run the three women to the lodge, then search the pond area?”
Bram nodded. He figured they both had the same thought. If no one had returned from their hike, they’d most likely be recovering bodies, not rescuing guests.
Chapter 16
After jamming the chair under the door, I moved around the room, closing the wooden shutters against the encroaching darkness. I felt less exposed, but not any safer.
Roy stood and began lighting the lamps, his movements robotic. I approached him to help, but he wordlessly waved me away.
I moved to the fireplace and added another log to the fire before sitting. “How are you feeling, Cookie?”
“Pretty rotten.” She nudged Bram’s messenger bag. “What’s this?”
I took it from her and opened it. Inside were files with employee names on the tabs plus one labeled Arson Notes. “Looks like Bram’s bag. I’m guessing he left it in Roy’s office when he was interviewing us. That was probably a good thing. If he’d had it in the wagon . . .” I sucked in some air. Don’t go there.
Cookie leaned back and closed her eyes.
“Can I get you an aspirin?” I asked.
“That would be nice. There’s some in the kitchen, above the sink.”
I stood. On impulse, I grabbed up the bag and took it with me. Chances were that Bram’s notes on the interviews he held on the giardia water were inside, along with other case information. I’d hold on to it and give it to Bram personally. At least I don’t have to worry about what he might think about me. He made that perfectly clear.
After placing the bag on one of the dining room tables, I continued to the kitchen. Roy had left one lamp burning, but there were too many shadows. I quickly found the aspirin and a glass of water, then returned to Cookie. “Here you go. Can I get you anything else?”
“Thank you, Darby. This will help.” She took the proffered items, then glanced toward the door, eyebrows furrowed. “I wonder what’s keeping them.”
Someone tapped at the front door.
No one moved.
The tapping came again. “Darby, open up. It’s Bram.”
I ran to the door, pulled the chair out of the way, and opened it. Bram, Wyatt, and the three women who worked at the resort pushed in. Behind them were Grace, Stacy, and Peter.
“We found the staff in cabin one,” Bram said quietly to me. “Grace, Stacy, and Peter were returning from a hike to the pond. Or so they say.”
“Do they know . . . ?” I asked.
“You can update them while we finish searching. We’re still missing one staff member, a guy called Spuds, and Angie.” He lowered his voice still more. “We don’t know who’s been doing what, so just listen carefully.”
I nodded. “Be careful.”
* * *
Wyatt and Bram stepped from the lodge and waited for Darby to secure the door. “All we have left to search is the building where Cookie, Angie, and I are housed,” Wyatt said.
“Okay. I’ve never actually been there.”
“Let’s hope our killer hasn’t either.” Wyatt peeked into the darkness. “No flashlights?”
Bram’s gut tightened. “No flashlights, but warn me if there’s something on the path.”
The half-moon provided just enough light to see the path but kept the shadows in ebony darkness. The temperature had dropped again, and Bram could see his breath.
Wyatt plunged into a row of trees and disappeared.
Bram paused. The breeze tossed the pines, making them l
ook like they were waving him away. His hand dropped to his empty holster, then grabbed his flashlight. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but he could blind someone, and it was made of metal. Pushing through the branches, he almost collided with Wyatt.
“Stay close,” the other man muttered, then moved forward.
He followed Wyatt, feeling more than seeing the path. The log triplex reared up before them suddenly.
“Cookie’s quarters are on the right, Angela’s are on the left,” Wyatt muttered. “Mine are in the middle.”
“Normally I’d say let’s just check out yours and Angela’s side since Cookie is accounted for, but we’re still missing Spuds—”
“Kevin. His name is Kevin.”
“Kevin and Angela. Let’s do a quick sweep of your place first, then Cookie’s, just to be sure, then Angela’s.”
Wyatt grunted his acknowledgment.
Like the rest of the buildings at Mule Shoe, Wyatt’s door was unlocked. Wyatt flicked on the lights as they entered. Unlike the rest of the resort, the living room–kitchen combination was far from primitive. A refrigerator hummed and a small red light glowed from the flat-screen television. The room looked lived in, with a jacket thrown over a chair, boots by the door, and a couple of glasses half full of liquid on the kitchen counter. The bed was unmade in the corner. Wyatt took a quick glance into the bathroom and a closet. “Nothing.”
They moved to Cookie’s place. As at Wyatt’s, the same comforts were present—modern kitchen, flat-screen television, and on a nearby desk was a MacBook Pro. A computer printer sat beside it.
“We’re in business,” Bram said. “We can contact—”
“No internet connection.” Wyatt opened a nearby door, peeked in, then shut it and glanced over at Bram. “Sorry.”
“You both have television. How do you get—”
“Television reception? We don’t. I don’t turn mine on. Cookie’s a movie buff. When all the guests have left, she has us all over for movie night.” He opened another door, revealing a wall of DVDs.
A quick glance at the titles proved Cookie’s taste ran to documentaries and regional outdoor shows with a few popular titles tucked in. Bram suddenly felt grubby for snooping. “Let’s go,” he said gruffly.
After switching off the lights, they left Cookie’s side and entered Angie’s apartment. The light switch didn’t work, so Bram turned on his flashlight. The illumination lit up the artist lying in a pool of blood.
His stomach twisted. Not another one. He raced to her side and checked for a pulse.
Wyatt joined him. “How bad?”
“Bad. She’s lost a lot of blood.” Bram glanced around the room. “She can’t stay here. We can’t secure two locations. We have to get her to the lodge—”
Before he could finish, Wyatt scooped up the injured woman and headed to the door. Bram followed. He knew the flashlight he held would be a beacon for the killer, but he didn’t want Wyatt to trip and further injure Angie. His spine prickled, anticipating a bullet between his shoulder blades. Sweat dampened his shirt. The trees seemed closer together, the trail longer, the night darker.
Once they cleared the forest, the pale moon illuminated their path. Wyatt broke into a trot. Bram shut off his flashlight and raced to the lodge door. “Open up, quickly!”
It seemed to take forever. As soon as the knob started to turn, Bram grabbed it and flung the door, bursting into the lobby.
“Angie’s been stabbed.” Wyatt tore over to the sofa and gently placed Angie on it.
Cookie slowly rose to her feet, swayed a moment, then said, “We have to get this bleeding stopped.”
The three women staff members rushed to help. Roy seemed to have shaken some of his lethargy and covered the prone woman with the sofa throw.
Bram caught Wyatt’s attention and jerked his head toward the dining room. When both men were out of earshot, he said, “We have to get word to the outside. Angie’s in rough shape, and Cookie isn’t much better. How long before someone notices the supply wagon hasn’t returned?”
“Good question.” Wyatt smoothed his mustache. “It’s Sam’s horse and wagon, but Sam isn’t around his store every day, and Liam takes care of deliveries here. Cookie or Roy place orders over the radio when they need to. It isn’t necessarily a daily trip.” He frowned and looked down, then at Bram. “How long before the sheriff will miss her son . . . or you for that matter?”
“She knows I’m working on the arson fires and gives me a lot of leeway.” Now it was Bram’s turn to study the floor.
Roy joined them. “Did you find Kevin?”
Bram shook his head.
Darby approached, lips tightly pressed. “Angie needs professional help.”
“That’s what we’re working on.” Bram looked up. “How often did you check in with Sam on the two-way?” he asked Roy.
“Only for supplies or emergencies,” Roy said. “Nothing regular. You’re sure the road’s blocked? We can’t get a horse and rider out?”
“I’m sure,” Bram said. “Not on that route at any rate. Is there another way out of here? Besides the Devil’s Keyhole?”
Wordlessly Roy moved to a framed map of the Mule Shoe and pointed. “We’re here. Roughly fifteen miles east is Old Faithful in Yellowstone. There are a number of hotels, a visitor center, lots of people.” He moved his finger north. “The town of West Yellowstone, in Montana, is roughly eighteen miles north. Both routes cover some extremely rough terrain.”
“What about here?” Wyatt traced a route south, then east.
Roy studied the map for a moment. “Yeesss, that would get you to Targhee Falls. You’d be basically riding around the back side of the Devil’s Pass. It’s farther than the other two options, but the route would be passable with the right horses and riders.”
“We can’t wait for someone to notice something is wrong.” Wyatt’s gaze had drifted to Angie’s still form.
“If we hadn’t surrendered our phones in Targhee Falls, we’d just have to find a place with cell service,” Darby muttered. “I bet you wish you’d caught that helicopter ride earlier today.”
Bram froze. Helicopter. He closed his eyes. What about the copter? He pictured it landing. The blades slowing. The pilot had nodded at him and the copilot had given a salute. Bram shook his head. Focus. He had been ready to climb aboard when Darby caught his attention. He’d gone into the lodge to the art room. He’d heard the rotors ramping up and he’d run to catch his ride, arriving outside just as the copter flew away.
What was so critical? He went over the events again. The third time he tried going through the events backward. The copter flew away . . . he’d caught a glimpse of the pilot, looking the other way.
No copilot.
A jolt went through him. “Did anyone watch the second copter leave?”
“I was in the barn,” Roy said. “Then Wyatt found me and we walked to the pasture.”
“That was about the time the horses broke through the fence,” Wyatt said. “Why are you asking?”
“Because someone got off. Someone we haven’t seen since.”
Chapter 17
I found myself holding my breath and staring at Bram. “Do you think that’s who’s out there? Not the missing staffer, who suddenly went postal?”
“It could be both.” Bram rubbed his chin, now sprouting a five o’clock shadow. “I don’t know.”
“Why would someone fly out here just to murder a bunch of innocent people?” I asked.
Bram turned to Roy. “So I have to ask, do you have any enemies? Anyone that would want to hurt you or destroy the Mule Shoe?”
Roy was silent for a moment. “No. And really, it’s not about me now.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“He sold Mule Shoe.” Bram kept his eyes on the older man. “Roy, you said no one knows about the sale outside of the buyer and agent. We have to assume this is about you. So my question still stands.”
Roy shook his head. “I don’t have any e
nemies that I know of. I just know a crazy person is out there.” He pivoted and stalked to the lobby.
“Now what?” I asked Bram. “We need to get help.”
“Not tonight, though,” Bram said. “There are more than a million and a half acres of wilderness between us and help. We can’t afford to get lost. We’ll head out at dawn.”
Liam sauntered into the room with yet another beer. When he noticed me staring at him, he shrugged. “No way I’m going to let these beers go to waste. Gotta drink ’em when they’re cold.”
Bram moved to the middle of the lobby. “Listen, folks, we’re going to ride out to get help—”
“You’re not leaving me—”
“There’s a killer out—”
“What are we supposed to do—”
“Who’s leaving—”
Bram threw up his hands to stem the flurry of words. “Please, please calm down, all of you. We’re working on the details, but we can’t leave before first light.”
“I’m going with you.” Peter’s face was flushed. “My wife, Stacy, and I are going with you.”
“I am too.” Grace’s hands were squeezed into fists.
Bram looked at Roy, Wyatt, and finally me. “We won’t force anyone to go, or to stay, but someone has to stay here with Angie and Cookie. And for those who go, this will be extremely difficult, not a casual trail ride. Think about it, and try to get a little sleep.”
“Be sure you’re not near a window,” Wyatt said.
People moved around, looking for comfortable chairs, throws, pillows, or cushions. Roy turned the lamps down so the room had a soft golden glow. Liam aimed for the kitchen, undoubtedly for another beer.
Bram came to Wyatt and me. “We need to take turns standing guard.”
“I’ll take the first watch,” Bram said. “Roy, I’ll need my Glock.”
Roy handed Bram the pistol.
Holly started barking. Outside, Maverick let out a howl.
I drew in a sharp breath.
The earthquake was short. Just a slight roll of the earth that left the hanging lamps swaying.
Holly flew to my side and I bent down to comfort her, then stood and looked for a place to sleep, though I felt restless and jumpy. My missing limb ached with phantom pain, and my PTSD made me irritable and on edge. I’d worn my prosthesis for more time than usual, and my residual limb was sore.
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