by Meg Muldoon
I stood there in the middle of the hallway for a long moment.
Just thinking.
Chapter 49
“Thanks again, Cinnamon. It’s been a hard week for a lot of folks around here. I think some pie will go a long ways to cheering them up.”
Annie took a sip from her can of Ensure.
“It’s my pleasure,” I said. “And I’ll bring Huckleberry by after Christmas. He’s missed visiting.”
Annie looked tired and like she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in years.
I gathered what she did for a living wasn’t easy work and probably had a way of draining a person at both a physical and emotional level.
“Merry Christmas, Annie,” I said.
“To you, too, Cin.”
I began leaving, but then noticed the man sitting by the reception desk.
It was the same man in his mid-60s who I’d seen almost every time I came in here. Always sitting there on that very sofa, looking as if he was waiting. And always wearing a sophisticated dark gray wool coat that struck me as something that only a businessman might wear. It was a look that wasn’t all that common here in quaint Christmas River.
Usually, he was flipping through an auto magazine. Today, he held a book I recognized – What the Mountain Took by Pam Dallas.
“You know, the author of that book lives part-time in Christmas River,” I said, nodding to it. “Just up the mountain highway a little ways.”
The man looked up, clearly startled.
“It’s such an interesting story,” I said, smiling as a way to apologize for scaring him. “Based on real events, too. Pam Dallas was really up there on K2 during a huge storm. Her ordeal inspired it.”
The man took his time in answering.
“I only… I only just started reading it,” he finally said in a gruff voice.
“Oh – sorry. I hope I didn’t spoil it for you.”
“I forgot my magazine today and this was just sitting here,” he barked.
His eyes went back to the book.
“Do you have a parent living here?” I asked.
I wasn’t normally the type to drag conversation out of someone who clearly wasn’t asking for one, but something about the man compelled me to ask another question.
Maybe it was because he looked lonely. I knew how lonely it was for some people this time of year, and something in the way he was just sitting there, slightly hunched over, made me feel sorry for him.
“Yes, my dad,” he said.
He looked down again, not elaborating any further.
“Well, I hope you get a slice of that pie before the rest of these old timers get to it. I’ve heard they pick the pie tins clean like crows in a corn field.”
He kept his eyes glued to his book.
This time, I took the not-so-subtle hint.
I headed for the front doors, trying not to take it too personally.
These places were hard. Watching the people you loved deteriorate and fade away wasn’t an easy thing. I was sure the man wasn’t trying to be rude on purpose.
I got outside, taking a big breath of fresh air. It was chilly, but the cold felt good. It burned out the smell of old soup from my nose.
I headed across the parking lot to the Escape.
It was only after I had gotten into my car that I realized Billy’s sheriff’s cruiser was nowhere to be found.
And by then, it was too late.
Chapter 50
I felt something sharp press into the seat back.
“Get onto the highway and head south,” a deep voice growled.
I froze.
This couldn’t be happ—
“Go.”
I reached for the door handle and began opening it.
A large hand grabbed my arm and squeezed hard.
“Do what I said. Start the car up and drive.”
I swallowed back bile. I looked up into the rearview mirror, meeting his eyes.
Blues, hard as an iceberg, stared back at me.
As dangerous as an iceberg, too.
“Now!” he shouted.
I couldn’t think.
Couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t believe this was happening.
I reached for the ignition with quivering hands. I turned it over and the Escape started up with a low hum. I shifted into drive and pressed down on the gas. It squealed and the car jerked forward.
“Brake,” he said sharply.
I couldn’t remember how to drive, either.
I pulled the emergency brake down and the car let out a squeal again as it made up for the lost time.
A moment later, we were speeding through the parking lot and out onto the street.
Away from Christmas River.
Chapter 51
It wasn’t the sharp thing pressed against my seat back that scared me anymore.
It wasn’t that we were getting deeper and deeper into the snowy woods.
It wasn’t that cell phone reception was most likely non-existent out here.
Or that night would be falling in less than an hour.
No. What scared me, as I sat there, foot to the pedal, driving Moira’s killer deep into the forest, was the silence in the car.
Kent Utley hadn’t said a single word since telling me to take the emergency brake off.
Nothing.
But every time I looked up in the rearview mirror at him, he was watching me. Watching my every move. Those ice blues of his on me like a fleece blanket on a chilly night.
I felt the day’s food coming up the back of my throat as I drove.
How had it come to this?
How had I found myself in such a dire situation?
I didn’t know. But in a way, it didn’t matter. I was here now, in my car, with him.
The man who had taken Moira’s own snow shovel and bashed her over the head with it until she was ground meat.
There wasn’t anything I could do to change how I’d gotten here.
All I could do was to try to change what happened now.
And that would take courage.
Everything I had, maybe.
I looked back into the mirror, meeting Kent Utley’s eyes.
“It doesn’t have to go this way.”
My voice came out like air through a cracked flute.
No answer.
I felt my gut drop.
I had to get him talking – to establish a connection. It’d be a lot harder for him to kill me if he thought of me as a person – that was what all those crime shows always said.
“Why’d you do it?” I forced myself to say. “Was it… an accident of some sort? Did it just get out of hand?”
He didn’t answer. But for a moment, he took his eyes off of me and looked out the passenger’s window.
I didn’t say anything for a few minutes, unable to think of anything else.
I had no idea how far we were going. All I knew was that with each passing mile, I was getting closer to something bad. Something terrible unless I figured a way out of this impossible situation.
My mind was screaming to think of something. But short of slamming on the brake and killing us both, I couldn’t think of a way out. My phone was deep in my coat pocket, and with him watching me like a hawk back there, I couldn’t see any way to get it, let alone to call anyone, without drawing attention.
“What’s your plan here, Kent? Where are we going?”
He didn’t answer.
Chills ricocheted down my spine.
Think of something. I had to think of something. Otherwise, I’d end up out here and nobody would know what happened to me.
Otherwise I’d be one of those posters on the cork bulletin board in the Sheriff’s Office.
Otherwise I could kiss everyone and everything in my life goodbye.
Oh, God.
The headline in that stupid weekly paper ran across my mind.
“Sheriff’s Wife Disappears Week before Christmas, Foul Play Suspected.”
<
br /> The fear tasted thick and brassy in my mouth.
I had to find a way to change it. I had to find a way to—
“Take this next turn.”
I lifted my eyebrows, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror.
The next turn led into the Christmas River National Forest.
And that wasn’t good.
Burning tears flooded my eyes, but I forced my attention back on the road.
I didn’t want him to see me cry.
I took the turn a little too fast. The road began climbing and the snow piles on the sides became higher. As we gained elevation, the trees turned into tortured-looking ice sculptures.
“There’s going to be a forest road in a couple of miles. I’ll tell you when to turn,” he barked.
I tried to hold back the tears.
Damn Billy. Where in the hell had he been? Daniel had told him to keep an eye on me. And the moment when I needed him, the deputy wasn’t there.
And his foolish slip-up might just cost me my life.
“Up there,” he said. “Take that road.”
I felt the impulse to turn the wheel abruptly, to take my chances in a violent car crash. But as the icy pavement flowed beneath the wheels, I found that I couldn’t will my hands to do it.
I was frozen. Scared. Unable to do anything to save myself.
I turned off the road. We hadn’t passed another car for miles.
Nobody knew I was out here.
Maybe nobody ever would.
The tears streamed down my cheeks as I navigated the bumpy, unplowed forest service road.
Time suddenly slowed down. Like I was driving through a cloud of maple syrup. That feeling of being frozen and helpless only seemed to get worse with each passing second.
I should have checked the back of the car before getting in, the way Daniel always told me to do as a precaution. I should have skipped going to the nursing home today. I should have stayed in the pie shop, where I was safe and sound.
I should have been more careful.
I kept telling myself that I needed to focus on how to get out. On right now. But my mind kept going back to what I could have done differently—
What I could have done differently to not end up as a national news story.
Was this it? Right when I had everything I wanted in my life?
Was this how the rug got pulled out? Alone with a killer in a remote and desolate corner of the forest?
Would they even find my body this winter?
Would they ever find my body?
I thought of Warren. Of Kara. Of Tiana and Tobias.
Of Daniel.
And of the children we’d never have.
“Pull over and turn off the car.”
Fear exploded through my heart as he jabbed the sharp thing against the car seat.
I slowed, turned the wheel, and put the car into park.
But I couldn’t kill the engine.
It signified too much.
“Turn off the car,” he said, his tone growing violent.
More tears.
My hand trembled as I reached for the ignition. The car went dead, and then, there was nothing but cold, brutal silence.
I forced my eyes up into the rearview mirror to look at Kent Utley.
At the man who was more than likely going to be my killer.
I felt sick with fear.
“If… if you go to the police now, they’ll work with you,” I said, my voice coming out hoarse again. “My husband’s the Sheriff. He’ll make sure you get a good deal. I’ll tell him how you didn’t hurt me.”
As I spoke, I slowly reached inside my coat pocket, fishing around for the cell phone.
But he saw what was going on almost before it happened.
“No phone calls!” he yelled.
I bit my lip to keep from sobbing.
He looked out the side window for a long while, gazing at the forest. Night was falling fast now, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before we were in complete darkness.
The thought made me shudder uncontrollably.
There had to be a way out.
There just had to be.
“Please,” I said, my voice coming out as barely a whisper. “Please don’t hurt me. Just… if you let me go, I won’t tell them I even saw you. Just… please…”
I was begging him. A last ditch effort that I knew from TV and the movies rarely ever seemed to work.
He wasn’t looking at me as I spoke. And from his expression, I wondered if he’d heard anything I’d just said.
“She deserved to die. You know that. You know that. She deserved to die.”
His words reverberated throughout the car, and I could have sworn it got a few degrees colder after he said them.
He ran a hand through his stringy gray hair.
“You know that.”
I swallowed hard.
He was still looking out the window, taking his eyes off me for the longest he’d done the whole drive.
“What did she… what did Moira do?”
He leaned forward, his face suddenly close to the back of my neck.
I squirmed like a worm on the end of a fishing line.
“It was all her fault. She wouldn’t help her. She wouldn’t help her.”
He began rocking back and forth slightly.
“I wanted to be the one to do it. I wanted her to know. You can’t do that to your kin. But I was too late. Too late. Too late, mom. Too late.”
My heart started hammering faster in my chest.
The fidgeting became more intense and he started sounding the way he had out in the woods.
Crazy.
He began hitting the side of his head with his free hand.
I felt the knife press into the back of the seat again.
I closed my eyes.
Please, God. Take care of Daniel and Warren and Kara and Aileen and the pooches. Don’t let them grieve too badly. Let them know how much I loved them. Take care of them. Please, take care of them. Please—
I heard the sound of the door pop open.
A frigid burst of cool air circulated through the car.
There was the sound of shoes crunching hard snow.
I opened my eyes.
“I would have. I would have…”
He continued talking after he slammed the door shut.
I watched in the rearview mirror as he lumbered through thick snow, deep into the heart of the woods.
I held on until he disappeared into the dusk.
Then I burst into sobs.
Later, a parade of flashing blue and red lights illuminated the dark road behind me.
Chapter 52
There wasn’t a scratch on me.
But that didn’t mean I wasn’t hurting.
Too shaky to go to work, and realizing that it would be unfair to put so much pressure on Tiana, Tobias, and Ian at this time of year, I’d told them to stay home today and catch up on some holiday shopping. It would be costly for the pie shop to be closed on a day so close to Christmas, but there were more important things than money.
I sat by the bedroom fireplace in the early morning before dawn, drinking a hot cup of coffee, trying to shake off my nightmarish night of sleep.
He’d let me go. But the dark impression that Kent Utley had left me with haunted my dreams all night.
I couldn’t get those ice blue eyes out of my head. Or the anger that had been in his tone.
Or the words he’d repeated.
She deserved to die. She deserved to die.
And then those other words.
You can’t do that to your kin.
The thought had come to me as I fell asleep the night before – when I’d had a chance to actually process what he’d said.
Kin.
Warren said that Moira had a sister, but nobody knew what happened to her. It didn’t seem like she had any heirs, because Moira was donating her estate to a national quilting heritage preservation society.
Ju
st who was Moira to Kent Utley? Just a victim of one of his muggings?
Or was there more to it?
Was Kent Utley related to Moira somehow?
Was that why he was here in Christmas River?
I didn’t know. Kent was obviously mentally ill, and much of what he said didn’t make sense.
Maybe the ‘kin’ part had meant nothing at all.
“Can I get you anything else, Cin?”
I lifted my eyes.
Daniel had been working late into the night, scouring the woods with his deputies and the Oregon State Police.
He didn’t say anything about it, but I could tell that he was angry. With Billy Jasper for abandoning his post. But also with himself. I knew Daniel well enough to know that he’d feel responsible for what had happened – even if the fault mostly lay with the young deputy.
But even Billy couldn’t take all the blame for this. He’d only been trying to do his job. I later found out that while I was delivering pies in the nursing home, Billy had gotten a call from dispatch. They’d received a tip about a green Subaru with Washington plates in the parking lot of a biker bar a couple of blocks away from Alpenglow Residential. The owner of the biker bar had said there was a middle-aged man sitting behind the wheel of the car, drinking.
Billy, being closest to the area and thinking he had a chance to nab a murderer, made the decision to leave me for a few minutes and head over there.
And as it turned out, it actually was Kent Utley’s car.
But the man sitting in it was a homeless vagabond named Ryan Rodgers – not Kent. Ryan had found the driver’s door unlocked and decided to spend the chilly afternoon in the Subaru with a bottle of Jim Beam.
The car’s battery apparently was dead.
I wasn’t sure how much of it Kent planned. But it didn’t seem like a coincidence that out of all of the people he could have taken at knife-point, he’d chosen me.
He followed me. Selected me to be his driver for his little joyride up into the mountains.
And instead of sitting here by the fire with Daniel, I could just as easily have been in the woods right now.
Dead as Moira Stewart.
I shivered.
I reached for Daniel’s hand and motioned for him to sit down next to me in front of the fireplace.
