Brown and de Luca Collection, Volume 1

by Maggie Shayne

  The oven timer pinged, and Marie cleared her throat. I blinked myself back to reality and stepped away. Misty scampered for the living room, bending close to my ear and whispering, “That was like the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen!” as she passed. Marie took the pie out of the oven, set it on the counter and followed Misty.

  I stood there, shaking. “Well, you certainly distracted me from my morbid thoughts.”

  “You distracted me, too.”

  I nodded. “We can’t be distracted right now, though.” It was what he would say, I knew, and after the other night, I had to agree with him. But I wanted him anyway. In ways I was too afraid to think about.

  “No, we can’t.” He went to the counter and leaned down to smell the pie. I watched his chest expand and ached for him. “This smells so good.”

  “We can have some as soon as it cools off a little.”

  “With hot cocoa,” he said. “By the fire. This is really starting to feel Christmassy, in spite of everything, isn’t it?”

  I couldn’t seem to generate a snarky comeback to save my ass and instead found myself nodding with a faraway look in my eyes. “I was just thinking that. This damn holiday gets into the darkest spaces, doesn’t it? It’s like…”

  “Magic.” He drew a deep breath, let it out slowly. “So, for what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s the extreme situation this time, Rachel.”

  That startled me. Because he wasn’t talking about the holiday anymore, he was talking about us. And I was interpreting his words to mean that he thought there might be something more between us. Something real. Even thinking it had terrified me. Finding out that he’d been thinking it, too… Hell, I couldn’t even process that yet. It was still ricocheting around my brain, lighting up every nerve center. “Mason, I—”

  “No, it’s okay. I know. Anyway, this isn’t the time.”

  “No, it’s really not.”

  He glanced at the clock. “How long before the pie?”

  I went almost limp with relief at his easy change of subject. “Half a round of Scrabble?”

  “It’s unfair. You’re a writer.”

  “I don’t think you’re going to have any trouble. I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re smarter than you look.”

  “Hey!”

  “That was a compliment, dumbass.”

  “Oh.”

  “Good-looking men aren’t always known for their brilliance.”

  “I got it, I got it.”

  “I’m losing my touch when I have to explain my lame-ass jokes,” I muttered, walking past him into the living room. “So, are we on for that game, or what?”

  * * *

  We played Scrabble. And then we ate pie. And then we played rummy and ate some more pie. And then everyone went to bed, and we stayed up, drinking pots of coffee and playing the boys’ video games. Every hour or so we’d go upstairs and check on the crew. Misty and Myrtle were in with Josh again, Myrt snoring like a chain saw. Jeremy was on his own, as was Marie.

  It was relaxed and easy, even fun, spending the night trying to keep each other awake and protect ourselves from a killer. I mean, given that I had to do that at all, there was no one I would rather have done it with.

  We didn’t talk about anything heavy. And we didn’t let things get romantic, both of us holding on to ourselves with nothing but sheer willpower. And, you know, the fear that getting distracted could mean we’d all wake up dead. That helped, too. We couldn’t mess up now. Not tonight. Tonight might be the organ thief’s best chance to succeed. Tomorrow we might not be so cut off. Hell, if things panned out with that cell phone, tomorrow we might know who the hell he was. So we stayed awake, and we played games. And we pretended that we didn’t want to rip each other’s clothes off.

  * * *

  Finnegan Smart didn’t like sleeping in the fancy rooms of the lodge, and there wasn’t a cabin available. So he did what he always did on such occasions. He pulled out the cot and bedding he kept in the storage room, and set up camp right in the Security Shack. He had heat, he had power, a coffeepot ready to go first thing in the morning and a shotgun close to hand. He was set for the night.

  But then he heard something rattling around outside his door. In this storm? Something bad must be happening if someone was out in the dead of night in this weather.

  He got up in his shorts and went to the door. He looked out the little glass panel first, of course, and then, frowning, opened it. “What can I do for you? Is something wrong?”

  His visitor came inside, shaking off snow, and turning to face him. And then something jabbed him in the gut, and the next thing he knew, the room was swimming and he was fading fast. He dropped to his knees and looked down at his hands. His belly was gushing blood all over them.

  * * *

  Mason was looking in on the kids, and I eased open Marie’s bedroom door to peek in at her. She was still lying in the bed, just as she had been every time I’d checked on her for the past several hours.

  That’s a little odd, isn’t it? People move around in their sleep. But she’s in the same position. Is she okay?

  Cussing myself out for not doing so earlier, I tiptoed inside, put my hands on her shoulders and whispered, “Marie?”

  She rolled onto her back, squinting up at me. “What? What’s going on?”

  I sighed in relief. I don’t know what I’d thought, but it had suddenly occurred to me that she’d been pretty depressed lately. And had reason to be. “I was just checking on you. Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Fine.”

  I nodded. “All right. I’m sorry, I just…flaked.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, smiling. “It’s nice that you care.”

  “Yeah, yeah, let’s not get mushy here. Go back to sleep.”

  “Night,” she said and I backed out of the room. I turned and bumped into Mason’s chest. My nose was buried in his T-shirt, and I was awash in pure sensual pleasure. God, he smelled good.

  I couldn’t lift my head because if I did we were going to start making out right there in the hallway. And if we started making out, we’d be in bed in about two minutes, so we couldn’t start making out. Maybe tomorrow.

  I stepped back. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be.”

  I looked up, now that I was a safe two feet away from him. “You’re exhausted. Why don’t you take a nap? I can stay awake by myself for an hour.”

  “Not a good idea. I’ll catch cat naps during the day. Night is when he’s more likely to try something.”

  “Tonight in particular,” I said.

  He nodded in agreement.

  I rolled my eyes. “Dammit, Mason, you could’ve lied.”

  “What would be the point? You already know.”

  I walked up to him and grabbed him by the T-shirt. “Keep me alive long enough to jump your bones, Mason Brown, or I swear to God, I’ll come back and do it anyway.” And then I leaned up and pressed my mouth to his. When he groaned and started kissing me back just as hungrily, I pulled away and headed back downstairs.

  Saturday, December 23

  Rachel had fallen asleep on the sofa, leaning over to one side, mouth slightly open, game controller still in her hand. She was still there as the sun rose, though Mason had draped a blanket over her and set the controller on the coffee table. She smelled good. She’d taken a shower last night, put on fresh clothes, not intending to sleep, then had fallen asleep anyway. He looked at her and grinned.

  It was dawn on December 23. The day before Christmas Eve. They’d made it through the night without incident, and the storm had finally stopped. The sun was beaming through the windows, reflecting off the snow, blindingly bright. Within hours the roads would be cleared, the cell tower repaired, the state police here, and he could get his family the hell away. Last night
had been the most dangerous point.

  And they’d survived.

  He was relieved as hell, and feeling more certain than ever that the killer had gotten out of there before the storm hit. Otherwise, he certainly would have tried something last night.

  He heard a motor buzzing in the distance and realized it was coming closer. Going to the window, he squinted and saw rooster tails of snow flying behind a pair of speeding snowmobiles, and he knew without even thinking about it that something was wrong. His gut told him so. The speed of the sleds told him so, too, and his happiness over surviving the night waned.

  “What’s going on?” Rachel sounded sleepy, as she scuffed closer and looked past him at the approaching snowmobiles.

  “I think we’re about to find out.”

  The machines stopped, and their passengers jumped off and tugged off helmets while hurrying to the front door. Rosie and Cait Cole, shaking her blond hair and looking ragged.

  He opened the door before they got to it. Cait didn’t come in, just stood on the step in front of Rosie. “I need you to come with me,” she said. “Fast. Now.” She was shaking. Her voice trembled.

  Mason shot a look at Rachel and she nodded, acknowledging that she heard it, too.

  “I’ll stay with the family, Mace.” Rosie eased past Cait and up to the door. “You have to go with her.”

  “I’m coming, too,” Rachel said. She dove into the closet, tossed him his coat, then went back for hers.

  Mason pulled on his coat as Cait moved aside to let Rosie in. “You armed, partner?”

  “To the teeth,” Rosie said. “And some of the security guys are on their way to back me up. Everyone here will be safe, I promise.”

  “Okay, I won’t be long.” Mason had shoved on his boots by then, and pulled on his hat. Leaning close to Rosie, he said, “Don’t let Jeremy out of your sight, okay?”

  “Jeremy?” Rosie frowned. “Something happen I don’t know about?”

  “I’ll explain later. Watch him, that’s all.”

  “All right. Ain’t nobody getting in or out of this cabin while I’m on duty, my friend. You better believe that.”

  Mason nodded, then glanced back to see Rachel dressed and ready. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  I knew something bad had happened. But I didn’t know how bad until we walked into the Security Shack and saw Finnegan Smart lying in a puddle of his own blood, his green eyes wide open, their light forever extinguished. The door closed behind us, and I jumped out of my skin when I turned around, but it was only Cait, pulling it shut, leaning back against it, staring at the body on the floor as her eyes welled.

  “I didn’t know what to do. I came in this morning and found him like this and—”

  “Did you touch anything?” Mason asked, scanning the room, seeing everything. He was like a hawk. Me, I was feeling instead of looking, but there wasn’t much to feel without a person nearby to give off signals. Cait was grieving and in shock. She was scared, too. And angry.

  “I tried to help him, but as soon as I touched him, I knew…”

  “Okay, okay, hang on, Cait,” Mason said.

  “He didn’t deserve this. He was a good man, dammit. He didn’t deserve this.”

  “I know he didn’t.” Mason moved closer, as close as he could without disturbing the blood on the floor, and bent low, lifting Finn’s T-shirt. I turned my head away, and tried to block Cait’s view, which was pointless, because she had her eyes closed.

  “Stab wound, just one. Looks like it severed the abdominal aorta.” Mason sighed heavily, and when I heard him move it felt safe to look again. “It was fast, Cait, if that’s any consolation. I doubt he even felt the pain of it before…” He stopped there, and I watched his eyes tracking the blood across the floor to a spot just a few inches from where I stood.

  “Someone came to the door. He went to open it, let them in. No sign of a struggle, no defensive injuries. My bet is, it was someone he knew and had no reason to mistrust.”

  “This isn’t right,” Cait muttered. She’d opened her eyes again, and they were fixed on the body. I tiptoed across the room, nodded toward the blanket from the rumpled cot and asked Mason with my eyes if I could cover poor Finnegan up.

  He gave me a nod in return, so I did it as gently as I could without getting too close.

  Having him covered freed his grip on Cait’s eyes, which shot to Mason now. “Why? That’s what I want to know? Why on earth would this murdering bastard target Finnegan?”

  “Where’s the cell phone?” I asked, because it was the obvious answer. Once that phone dried out and we plugged it in—and if it worked—we would know who the killer was. We’d figured that was a possibility. If the killer had murdered Finn and taken the phone, then there was no longer any doubt. That phone was the key.

  Mason looked at Cait. “Do you know where he would have put it? He said he would lock it up for the night.”

  “There’s a locker in the back,” she said. She wiped her eyes and pointed. The locker was metal and freestanding, with a padlock on the front. It was still locked. Mason walked over and stopped in front of it. “There’s something on the floor.” He bent low and came back up rubbing something between his thumb and forefinger. “Rice.”

  “He must have done what you said and put the phone in rice overnight to try to draw out the moisture,” Cait said.

  Mason still had his gloves on. He tugged the lock, which turned out not to be locked at all. It only looked as if it was. The hasp was free, and Mason opened the door.

  A bowl sat inside, a set of keys on a chain lying beside it. “Here’s the rice. I can see traces of blood in it, though.” He pulled out his own phone and took a couple of pictures, then turned, pocketing it again as he turned to Cait. “Can you find me something to pour the rice into? I don’t want to run my hands through it. There might be trace evidence in there.”

  Her eyes were back on the blanket-covered body. She’d checked out. I was going to have to step in. In two seconds I located a package of plastic wastebasket liner bags, took one out and held it up. “Will this work?”

  “Yeah, perfect. Stay there, I’ll come to you.”

  He crossed the room just as carefully as before, while I tried to open three sides of the bag before finally finding the right one. Then I held it open while Mason slowly poured in the rice. I grimaced at the bloody bits.

  As we’d already guessed, the cell phone was gone.

  Mason took the bag from me and set it aside. Then he showed me his cell phone. The photo he’d taken of the keys inside the cabinet. I frowned, and he made it bigger. “Is that—”

  “A nice, crisp bloody fingerprint,” he said softly. “My guess is that’s the key that opened the padlock. Our killer must have taken the key chain from Finn.”

  “We’ve got him.” I handed the phone back to him, and he pocketed it, set the rice bag and the bowl onto the desk, and nudged us back outside.

  “We haven’t got him yet. If he’s in the system, yes. If we find a suspect to compare this print with, yes. But until then, we’re no closer.”

  “But we can rule people out with this, can’t we?”

  “Eventually, yeah. Right now we have to lock up the shack, preserve the chain of evidence. I’ve got a good shot of the print, with enough detail to email it out once we get a signal again.” He looked at Cait. “How long before you think we can get some help out here?”

  She was staring blankly at the closed door. I nudged her. “Cait?”

  Blinking, she came back to the present. “I… What?”

  “Now that the storm is over and the sun is shining,” I asked her, “how long before the roads are passable again?”

  “The sun is shining.” She blinked and looked back at the lodge. It was a beautiful place, fitting into the landsc
ape as if it were a part of it. “How am I going to keep the guests off the slopes now? With a killer on the loose? How am I going to keep anyone safe…without Finn?” Her eyes were growing wild when she turned to Mason. “We have to get them out of here. All of them. We have to send them home.”

  “Once the police get here, we can do that. They’re going to want to clear the guests one at a time,” he said.

  That didn’t help. She still looked panicky. So I took a swing at it. “For this morning, Cait, you can tell the guests that the lifts are down due to the storm, the power outage, whatever, and that they’ll be up and running as soon as possible. Probably before the day is out. You can tell them the truth once the cavalry arrives. But we need to know how soon that will be.”

  I was reaching her. She was listening, nodding as I spoke. “Noon, at the latest. Probably. I sent a pair of Finn’s boys out on sleds to try to get through to the village and let the police know how bad things are up here.”

  “Great. Once someone knows what’s going on, they’ll get to us as fast as humanly possible,” I said, looking for something positive in this mess.

  “Can you communicate with the people you sent out?” Mason asked.

  She nodded, her gaze drifting back to the shack door. “Yeah, with the walkie-talkies, when they’re in range.” She licked her lips. “The base station is in there,” she said, nodding at the door. “I have a handset in my office.”

  “Good,” Mason said. “I need you to lock this door and make sure no one goes inside. Post someone here. I want it watched until the police arrive.”

  “All right.”

  “We’ll try to reach your team from your office, and I’ll give them the number to reach my people in Binghamton. They’re familiar with the case and can fill the local guys in.”

  “Okay.”

  “Then I have to get back to my family.”