Deadly Getaway

by Laura Bradford

  Elise tossed her notepad onto the coffee table and inched forward on the sofa. The firelight provided enough illumination to see Mark’s face, but fell short in its role as a reading lamp.

  But it didn’t matter. The questions were on the tip of her tongue, waiting to shoot from her mouth at the appropriate times.

  “Can I ask when you arrived on the island?”

  Mark tented his fingers, his elbows planted on the armrests of the single high-backed chair. She was glad to see his features had softened somewhat since Tom put his prize money in the hotel safe.

  “I arrived last Sunday,” he answered.

  “What brought you here?”

  “I didn’t take much of my vacation time last year on account of the wildfires out west. The department gave us a grace period in carrying them over, but we needed to use ’em or lose ’em.”

  Elise nodded. “You’re a firefighter, is that right?”

  “Yup.”

  “For how long?”

  Mark blew against his fingertips, rolled his eyes upward. “It’ll be eleven—wait, no. It’ll be twelve years in March.”

  She tapped the pen cap on her leg as she did some quick math. If she was accurate, Mark would be about thirty-two years old.

  “I’m thirty-one.”

  Her mouth dropped open and she stared at the redhead who sat across from her. “How’d you know I was gonna ask that?”

  “You had that math face.”

  “Math face?”

  “You’re a writer. You work with the opposite side of your brain. People who are math-oriented don’t even have to think about numbers, it’s just there. I could almost see your wheels turning. In fact, if the room wasn’t so shadowed, I’d be willing to bet your fingers were moving.”

  It felt good to laugh, to release some of the tension she’d felt since Mitch assigned her Mark’s interview.

  “Touché.”

  Now that she’d had time to process everything, it made perfect sense why Mitch had let her have Mark. Her mind was still open where the redhead was concerned.

  “So, what made you pick this island?”

  “I used to cross-country ski with my grandfather when I was a kid. Loved it.” Mark dropped his hands to his thighs and leaned back in his chair. “I’d read about this place in a magazine at the firehouse one day. Figured it would be perfect for sneaking in some skiing and having some quiet time for myself.”

  “Sucker.” She reached for one of the sodas Tom had left out for them, peered at Mark’s face as she lifted the metal tab and raised the can to her lips.

  He laughed, a deep sound that filled their tiny alcove. “Yeah, I guess I kinda am. This place certainly hasn’t been the stuff tourist brochures are made of, has it?”

  “No. But I happen to know this island is amazing under normal circumstances.”

  “You’ve been here before?”

  “A long, long time ago.” She could hear the wistful tone to her voice, was grateful when Mark heeded the sound and allowed her to resume the role of interviewer.

  “Is there anything you remember from the morning of the competition that could help us? A person walking in the woods? A scream? Anything?”

  Mark leaned forward, reached for a can of soda.

  “I’ve thought about that morning over and over since we found Pete. I don’t remember seeing anything out of the ordinary.”

  Elise nodded slowly, her gaze locked on the flames in the hearth as she considered her next question.

  “But the guy who did this must have been a force to contend with.”

  Elise looked at Mark. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I saw Pete as he was finding his ninth point and he was focused on that finish line. You know, eye of the tiger focused.”

  “You saw him after the competition started?”

  Mark nodded, crushed the now empty can against his thigh. “Yup. I had just found my eighth point and was sure I was winning. Even toyed with him a little about the legendary winning streak everyone had talked about that morning.”

  “How did he respond to you?”

  “Like any cocky jock would. With a spark in his eye and a promise of my defeat.”

  Elise looked across the room, saw Mitch huddled in another corner talking to Drew and Josh. Was this information he’d want to hear firsthand?

  “It didn’t bother me if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  She turned, her focus on Mark once again.

  “It didn’t?”

  “No. I’m a competitor too. Sure, I wanted to be the guy who showed up out of nowhere and won, but I respected his determination.” Mark raised the crushed can to eye level and threw it into a nearby trash can with disgust. “I sure as hell didn’t want to win the way I did.”

  There wasn’t much she could say to that. He was right. Who would want to win a prize simply because the true winner had been murdered?

  “Why are you so certain that Josh Cummings is after your money?” she finally asked.

  Even as the question left her mouth she could see the tension resurfacing in Mark’s features. His jaw muscles tightened, his eyes narrowed.

  “He is the epitome of a sore loser. He screamed like a spoiled brat when I won that money, accused me of cheating.” Mark rose to his feet. “And if there is one thing people can bank on about me, it’s the fact that I don’t cheat. Ever.”

  ~ ~ ~

  “So let’s go over this one more time,” Mitch said. He looked from Drew to Josh and back again. Both men still seemed so affected by Pete’s fate. And he couldn’t blame them. They’d lost a friend. “Even though he’d had heart trouble in the past, he still managed to win the competitions each time, right?”

  Drew nodded, his hand cupped over his mouth.

  “What made him so good?” Mitch gently prodded.

  Dropping his hand to his lap, Drew started to speak then stopped.

  “It’s okay. I know this is hard.”

  “He was driven.”

  Mitch felt his eyebrows arch as Drew’s choice of words settled in his thoughts.

  “How do you mean?”

  “Pete had essentially been told by his cardiologist that he better get in shape if he wanted to be around when it was time to be a grandpa. And like any true athlete would, he heard that warning as a starter pistol. He set his mind to finding a form of exercise that he’d enjoy.”

  “And orienteering was it?”

  “Yup. He read about our group in the paper one day. He’d always loved being outdoors and was somewhat of a map geek from what I gathered in our early conversations. He came to one of our events and was hooked.”

  “How soon did he start winning?”

  “About as fast as my soon-to-be ex spent my paycheck,” Josh interjected.

  Mitch focused his gaze on the short squatty guy Dan Friar had pointed out to him just that morning. “Did that bother you?”

  Josh raised his palms into the air and rapidly moved them back and forth. “Not me. I could have whipped his butt if I’d wanted to.”

  Drew snorted and turned his head in Josh’s direction. “Not likely.”

  “Ah, c’mon, Drew. We both know he won ’cause he had a better compass than the rest of us.”

  Drew smacked his fist onto the armrest of his chair. “Don’t even go there! Pete had just gotten that damn compass a few weeks ago, and he’d been winning for years.”

  Mitch studied the men as they argued. It was obvious to him that Drew wasn’t going to let a loser like Josh sully Pete’s accomplishments.

  “I’d have won with that compass.”

  “Don’t make me laugh. You’ve been arguing with compasses and maps for two years. That’s why you lose, Josh. You’ve got no common sense.”

  Sensing the direction the interview was taking, Mitch took hold of the reins once again.

  “Josh, I understand that you were, um, how shall I say this? A little pissed off when Mark won. Is that accurate?”

  “Tr
y having your wife drag you through the court system. It ain’t cheap. I needed that damn money.” Josh jumped to his feet and started pacing, his hands clenching and unclenching. “I was sure I was in the lead this time. But noooo, that damn redhead had to show up. There is no doubt in my mind he cheated somehow.”

  “And why would you think this competition was any different than all the others?” Drew asked, his voice dripping with irritation. “You lost all of those too.”

  “My luck was changing. I could feel it. I finally had what I needed to win.”

  “Hatred for your wife?” Drew shot back.

  “No, but that certainly didn’t hurt.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Mitch walked over to the registration desk, his thoughts still on the conversation with Drew and Josh. Nothing they’d said seemed to point to the killer, but then again, he knew all too well how the most insignificant things could sometimes be the dynamite that blew a case wide open.

  He stopped beside Elise and slid his arm around her waist.

  “How’d it go with Mark?”

  “I think he’s clean. I really do. In fact, I kinda like him. He actually has a good sense of humor,” Elise said. “He willingly answered every question I threw at him, volunteering information I didn’t even ask for.”

  “Okay.” He turned toward Brad. “And the reunion folks?”

  “They’re all accounted for. They’ve been here for a week and nobody new has shown up since the day they all arrived.” Brad plucked an apple from the fruit bowl on the registration desk. “This group has its share of former prom queens, chess players, and jocks. Just no serial killers.”

  “And John Smith? He show back up yet?”

  “Not yet, Mitch.”

  Mitch raised his arms above his head and stretched. “You got your walkie-talkie, Tom?”

  “Sure do.” The desk clerk held the piece of equipment up and grinned. “I’ll be fine. I’m almost a black belt, remember?”

  Mitch grinned, patted the countertop quickly. “I remember. But if room six shows back up or you need anything, call Jonathan, okay?”

  “Where you guys headed?”

  “Elise and I are headed to our hotel. We need some sleep. We’ve got skiers heading out at daybreak to bring in the outlying residents.” Mitch rubbed his palm across his stubbled chin. “You ready to house a few of them for us?”

  “Sure thing. We got plenty of room.”

  “What are you gonna do, Brad?” Mitch asked, looking at his buddy.

  “I’m gonna go sack out at the station.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I feel better with guns nearby.”

  Saturday, January 29

  Chapter Fifteen

  8:30 a.m.

  She could tell Mitch didn’t understand. And in a way she couldn’t blame him. It made no sense why she’d be so hell-bent on being part of the group assigned to round up the outlying residents. No sense to him anyway.

  But to Elise, it made perfect sense. If there was any chance of coaxing her uncle out of that house, it would have to come from her. And even that was slim.

  She looked down, tugged the insulated glove up further on her wrist. It had been nearly fourteen years since she’d seen him, and even after all this time it was hard to picture that quiet, gentle man confined to a house in the middle of nowhere for over a decade. A confinement that was apparently his self-imposed punishment for an accident he never meant to happen.

  Sure, she’d dreamed of finding him one day. But as time passed and no contact was ever made, her hope for that “someday” had all but faded away. In fact, if not for Brad’s confirmation on the night she and Mitch arrived, she’d still wonder if he were even alive anymore.

  “Is there anything I can do to talk you out of this?”

  Elise looked up, met Mitch’s uncertain eyes. “No. I’m a good skier, Mitch. This is something I can do to help.”

  She prayed that he would understand her need to do this, but knew full well that he didn’t, couldn’t. He didn’t know about her uncle’s presence on the island. And it needed to stay that way. If there was one thing she knew about Mitch Burns, it was the fact that he believed in justice and had zero tolerance for those who didn’t face the consequences for their actions. It still ate away at him the way his father’s killer eluded prison because of a mental incompetency. So there was no reason to think he’d look at Aunt Faye’s death, and the grand jury’s failure to indict Uncle Ken, any different than everyone else. And if he knew where she stood on the whole subject it might be enough to send him packing.

  Mitch reached out, brushed a fine layer of snow from her parka as they stood outside Sophie’s restaurant. “I don’t understand this, Elise. I really don’t. But I’ll respect your need to do this under one condition.”

  Elise pulled her hat down over her ears, knotted the bright plaid scarf around her neck. “What’s that?”

  “You stick with Dan and Drew. They’re strong guys. Don’t go heading off down a path or to a house unless those two are right by your side. Okay?”

  She nodded, managed a smile as she reached out and squeezed his hand. The concern in his face and words was touching, reassuring.

  “Ready to go, Elise?”

  She turned, saw Dan Friar as he stepped out of Sophie’s Place and grabbed his skis.

  “Yes.”

  “You got the walkie-talkie, right, Dan?” Mitch asked.

  “Sure do.”

  “I think this island is small enough that we’ll be able to keep in touch for at least some of the area you’ll be covering. But don’t take any unnecessary risks. If someone is adamant that they want to stay in their house, then let it go. There is only so much we can do.”

  “Got it, Mitch. And don’t worry, we’ll keep her safe.”

  “I’m counting on that.”

  Elise glanced back over her shoulder at Mitch, saw his body sag as the group set off toward the most isolated sections of the island.

  ~ ~ ~

  The livery on the northern side of the island was old and run-down. Patches of rotted wood were visible just above the line of snow that rose roughly two feet up the building. A cockeyed sign, hung above the stable doorway, held two faded words—Stodder’s Livery.

  The sound of a horse’s exhale escaped through the open walkway between stalls and brought a sense of life to the otherwise quiet stable. Elise pulled the glove from her right hand and reached between the steel bars of the stall. The horse’s skin felt cold beneath her fingers, but the animal’s eyes were warm and gentle.

  She peered around the roomy stall as she patted the horse, was pleased at the ample supply of food and water nearby. It was easy to see that the dilapidated building did not reflect the care the horses received.

  “Who’s there?”

  Elise spun around, saw the elderly man staring at them from behind the barrel of a rifle.

  “Hey, man, it’s okay.” Dan’s hands rose in the air as he spoke slowly, soothingly, to the balding man blocking the doorway. “Officer Matthews asked us to come out and check on you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because this storm’s knocked out power and phone lines to everyone and Brad wants to make sure you’re okay.” Elise heard the fear in Dan’s voice as he waited for the man to lower his gun, a fear that she remembered all too well.

  “So? We’ve had storms like this before.”

  “Please, put down the gun. We’re not here to hurt you.” Dan slowly lowered his hands as he spoke. “There’s been two murders on the island in the past two days and Brad sent us out to check on all of the outlying residents. We’re hoping you’ll come back with us and stay in one of the hotels until this storm is over.”

  The man lowered the gun a smidge and pointed at Elise. “Why’d they send you?”

  She willed her breathing to slow, her stance to soften. “I volunteered. We’re all pitching in, in whatever way we can. And I’m a strong skier.”

  The man studied them
for several long minutes then finally released his grip on the rifle. “I’m sorry about this. You just can’t ever be too cautious these days. My brother lives over on the mainland and he had two of his horses stolen right outta his barn last month. And I knew that most sane people wouldn’t be looking for no pony rides in this storm.” He stepped forward, held out his hand. “I’m Vic. Vic Stodder. I own this place.”

  Elise turned toward Dan and Drew, noticed the way their bodies slumped with relief. There was nothing like staring at the end of a gun to send a jolt of terror through your body.

  “What do you say, will you come back with us?” Dan shook the man’s outstretched hand.

  “Nah, can’t do that. I gotta make sure the new kid is taking care of my horses right.”

  “But sir, it’s dangerous for you to be out here away from everyone. A place like this is a perfect place for someone looking to hide.” Drew gestured to the horses. “We could help you hitch them to a sled or wagon and get them into town too.”

  The man began to shake his head before Drew was finished talking. “No can do. I got me too many horses to hitch to one sled—or even three—and this snow is too damn deep for them anyway. Besides, I got my own protection.” He patted the rifle he’d finally leaned against the wall. “Ain’t no one gonna be bothering me.”

  Elise looked around the stable slowly. “You said you have a new worker?”

  “Yup. That’s right. Name’s R.J. He’s ’bout your age, I imagine. Well, maybe not quite. He’s probably a few years younger than you. Showed up Thursday night looking for work. Said he was good with horses. So I gave him a shot.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “Sleeping. I’m giving him a place to put his head in exchange for work.” Vic Stodder motioned to a stall on the far right of the stable. “Lilly Belle over there ain’t been feeling real well. She’s due anytime now. R.J.’s coming when he did has been a real blessing.”

  Elise walked over to Lilly Belle’s stable and peered through the bars. The horse stood still, her breath slow and labored. “Did R.J. say why he was here?”