by Lauren Carr
“Tell me again what Spencer’s chief of police is doing slumming at this back-roads motel in Accident?” the sheriff asked.
“You heard me the first time,” David replied. “Russell Dooley had made some threats toward Archie Monday. He sent Mac Faraday a photograph of him with his arm around her, and a note that contained a veiled threat about getting that close.” He gestured at the picture that the sheriff had slipped into an evidence bag and had pinned under the notepad on his clipboard. “I came to have a chat with him about the virtue of letting bygones be bygones and walking away, but someone killed him before I could offer him that advice.”
“Wish they hadn’t,” the sheriff said with a shiver. “The motel owners should be arrested for lying about that cabin having heat. If you had gotten to Dooley sooner, we’d all be nice and warm and comfortable right now.”
“I’m sure Dooley feels bad about ruining your day,” David said with sarcasm.
“What did Dooley say when Mac Faraday told him to stay away?”
“Mac Faraday never talked to Dooley,” David said. “He sent Mac a card with a note threatening to ruin his wedding—as revenge for ruining his life by framing his wife for murder. Mac told me that he ignored the threat, thinking that the guy was venting. But then this morning, he got that picture. Mac’s no fool. He did the right thing. He brought it to me, and I decided to be proactive—let Dooley know he was on my radar, and that, if he were smart, he’d leave.” David insisted, “Mac has never been here or in that cabin, and, to my knowledge, he told no one except his lawyer about Dooley’s threat. You’re not going to find any evidence to place him or any of his associates at this scene.”
“Except the steak knife from the Spencer Inn, which Mac owns and frequents.”
David shook his head with a laugh. “All of the china, dinnerware, glasses, and silverware, including the steak knives, at the Spencer Inn are special ordered to have the Inn’s logo. There’s no others like them in the whole world. Mac was a homicide detective for twenty years before he retired. Seriously? Do you really think he would make such a stupid mistake by using a one-of-the-kind murder weapon that would lead you directly to him? Just to kill a man for sending him a threatening picture?”
Turow cocked his head and arched an eyebrow in David’s direction. “Maybe that’s what Mac wants us to think.”
“You know Mac didn’t do this,” David said in a low threatening tone.
“Based on that knife and the threats Dooley made, I would be negligent to not put him at the top of the suspect list,” Turow said. “You know what it’s like, O’Callaghan. What if this murder had been in your jurisdiction? What if you were me? Would you just check Faraday’s name off the suspect list and go on to the next guy without at least questioning him?”
Hanging his head, David sighed. “No.”
“Now for the good news,” Turow said. “Doc says Dooley died shortly after midnight. It would have been dark, but one of those kids said he saw a man go into Dooley’s cabin last night shortly before he heard screaming coming from it.”
“I don’t think these kids have bedtimes.”
“The kid was kind of cagey about what he was doing out so late.” The sheriff turned around and pointed to the cabin next to the cottage where Russell Dooley had died. “That cabin is empty. One of my deputies looked inside for evidence of someone who may have been hiding in it. He found cigarettes, empty beer cans, and porno magazines.”
“Now we know what they were doing out so late,” David said with a wicked grin.
Turow pointed at the end of the road where the motel’s last cabin rested at the end of the woods. “There’s a path leading to the creek where guests can go picnic and fish. The boy supposedly saw someone coming out of the woods and going up to the cabin—”
“The killer came on foot in all this snow?” David said.
“According to the kid,” Turow said. “My deputies have found evidence of footprints that were made before the snow last night. They also found some evidence of blood drops. Forensics says that they may be able to get DNA from them since they’ve been frozen. The kid says he saw the killer go up to the porch on Dooley’s cabin, and he got a look at his face in the porch light.”
David grinned. “If he saw the killer, then you can get a sketch of him, and that will eliminate Mac.”
Sheriff Turow’s smile did not match David’s. “The boy’s aunt also confided that her nephew is a pathological liar and is most likely making it all up, so we need to take what he tells us with a grain of salt.”
“Can I come with you to interview him?” David asked.
Before the sheriff could answer, David’s radio squawked. Turow waited while David took the call.
Shots fired. Multiple victims reported by witnesses.
Both law officers’ eyes jaws dropped when the address was reported. It was One Spencer Court.
“That’s Mac’s house.” David shifted the cruiser into reverse while Sheriff Turow jumped out.
“I’ll meet you there!” the sheriff called out to him as David sped down the ice-covered road toward Spencer.
“I don’t understand why we can’t just drive to the police station,” Agnes was carping into Mac’s ear while he dug through Joshua’s black canvas bag to see what he had. “Those people tried to kill us. When someone tries to kill you, you go to the police. That’s what Archie did, and it worked out very well for her.”
“Until she met me,” Mac said with heavy sarcasm.
“This is no time to be sensitive, Mac,” she chastised him.
He had sped up the mountain and deep into the woods to a trail that David had shown him when he had first moved to Spencer. Originally used for mining cars to carry copper down to the lake, the trail was wide and smooth enough for a vehicle, until it became too steep to ascend further up the mountain. The abandoned copper mine was located at the very end of the trail.
Known only by die-hard hikers, Mac hoped that whoever was trying to kill them would not know about the trail.
Seizing what he recognized to be a combat first-aid kit, he eased the elderly woman out of his way so that he could climb out of the back of the SUV. He went around the side to where Joshua was stretched out across the back seat.
While Mac was searching for the first aid kit, Joshua had pulled up his sweater and undershirt to reveal a bullet hole that had gone through his side. His stomach and clothes were soaked with blood.
“Oh, dear!” Agnes clasped her hand over her mouth. Her dismay turned to fury when she saw that Joshua was digging through her purse. After reading the title on the cover of her paperback novel, which featured a scantily cladded couple, he shoved it back into the bag and continued digging. “What are you doing?” She snatched the purse out of his hand, which came out holding a red thumb drive. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you to never go through a woman’s things?” Snarling, she grabbed the thumb drive out of Joshua’s hand and hurled it back into her purse. Clutching it to her chest with both arms, she said, “I should expect as much from a lawyer.”
“I was looking to make sure you didn’t have a cell phone.”
“I told you I don’t have any cell or smart or any phone,” she said. “I don’t use computers or laptops or those little square techno books that people use instead of books anymore. I’m low-tech and proud of it.”
When she backed away, Agnes almost tripped over Gnarly, who was trying to follow Mac into the back of the SUV. “Why did we have to bring that filthy beast?”
“That filthy beast saved my life,” Joshua said.
“Well he’s a mobile germ palace, and you’ve been injured.”
In the cramped space of the backseat, Mac crouched down in order to examine Joshua’s wounds.
Joshua stifled a groan when Mac touched the bullet wounds in his side. “Did you find the quikclot?”
Mac held up th
e brown package. “Got it right here.”
“That will stop the bleeding,” Joshua said.
“We need to take him to a hospital,” Agnes told Mac. “Have you ever treated someone who’s been shot before?”
“As a matter of fact, I have,” Mac replied. “It looks like a through and through.”
“Apply the quikclot and then wrap it up,” Joshua said, “and I should be ready to go.”
“You need to sterilize it first.” Agnes crowded into the back of SUV and shoved Mac out of the way. “Let me. You’re doing that all wrong. He’s going to get an infection.”
“Agnes—”
“I’m completely certified in first aid,” she said while cleaning Joshua’s wounds. “I have children and twenty-three grandchildren. So I make sure I know everything there is to know about taking care of emergencies, from poisoning to burns to choking to extracting pen caps stuck up little noses.”
“How about a gun shot?” Joshua asked with a grimace.
“You’re my first gun shot,” Agnes said. “But it should be no different from a stabbing, and I did handle that.”
“Who got stabbed?” Mac asked.
Agnes shot Mac a sidelong glance. “You haven’t gotten Archie really mad yet, have you?”
The stinging from the antiseptic made Joshua throw back his head and clench his jaw.
“I made darn sure I knew how to treat a wound when someone got hurt.” She tore open the quikclot package with her teeth and spit out the plastic corner.
Joshua grabbed Mac’s arm while she pressed the gauze to his stomach. “Did you find the burn phone in my bag?”
“Yeah, Josh.” Mac met his gaze. “I’m impressed. You take being prepared to a whole new level.”
Joshua’s eyes met his. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this, Mac.”
“We’ll talk about it later.” Mac examined Agnes’ work. He was impressed with how quickly and efficiently she had taken care of the wound. With her tending to Joshua, he was free to climb out of the SUV and call for help. “You need to stay still to make sure the bleeding stops before we move you. That will give us time to figure out our next move.”
“Our next move should be to the police,” Agnes said. “Aren’t you friends with that cute young chief of police?”
Grinning at her noticing how attractive David O’Callaghan was, Mac confirmed that he was. “But they have a small police force, and these guys had us outgunned. We need to figure out exactly what we’re dealing with”—he shot a glance in Joshua’s direction— “so that we’ll know how best to go up against them.”
Mac climbed out of the back of the SUV.
“And how are we going to do that without asking for help?” she demanded to know.
Mac held up the disposable phone that he took out of the black bag. “Call them.” He yelled back to Joshua. “Is this thing activated?”
“Yes,” Joshua answered with a moan.
Gnarly had climbed up into the back of the SUV. Laying on the floor, the German shepherd rested his head on Joshua’s hand. With his ears laid back flat on his head, he gazed up at him.
“Thank you, Gnarly.” Joshua stroked the dog’s snout. “You did good.”
Stepping away from the SUV, Mac punched in a number on the phone. Stomping his slippered feet to keep warm, he listened to the ringing on the other end of the line. With the adrenaline wearing off, he realized that he had made his retreat so fast he didn’t have boots or a coat. Checking his pockets, he discovered he didn’t have his wallet either.
Oh, man! This can’t be happening now.
“Hello …” Hector Langford’s voice came across the phone line when he picked up the call. Hector was the chief of security at the Spencer Inn.
“Is Pat there?” Mac asked.
There was a slight pause before Hector replied. “Sorry, bloke, there’s no one here by that name. You must have the wrong number.”
“I’m sorry. I must have misdialed.” Mac hung up the phone.
“You called the wrong number!” Agnes’ voice directly behind him made Mac jump so quickly that he grabbed the gun he had tucked in the waistband of his pants before he remembered that she was Archie’s mother.
“Yes, I misdialed.” Mac stomped back to the SUV to check on Joshua. Bending over him, he saw a slight smile come to Joshua’s lips. “Are you feeling better?”
“I was just remembering something my cousin told me when I was younger and had my first serious girlfriend.”
“Oh?” Mac asked while patting Joshua on the shoulder.
“He said, ‘Before you marry the daughter, take a good long look at the mother.’” With a wink, Joshua jerked his head in the direction of where Agnes was standing with her arms folded across her bosom while glaring at the SUV where they were huddled.
In his corner office at the Spencer Inn, Hector Langford hung up his phone on which he had taken the call made to his private line.
A lean, gray-haired Australian, Hector had been with the Inn for over twenty-five years, which was longer than Jeff Ingle, the Inn’s manager, had worked there. Hector knew Spencer and the mountaintop resort inside and out. When he’d first met Mac, the security chief took great delight in revealing that Robin Spencer had often asked for his help in planning the murders for her books.
After grabbing a notepad and a pen, Hector picked up the receiver again and punched star-six-nine.
The phone number that Mac had called him from filled the screen. Hector wrote down the number. After taking his cell phone from his belt, he sent off a text to David O’Callaghan. Then before closing the door to his office, he removed a disposable phone that he had stashed away in the bottom drawer of his desk.
Chapter Six
Spencer Manor resembled a war zone.
With sirens blaring and lights flashing, David drove as fast as he could risk on the icy roads along the shores of Deep Creek Lake to Spencer Point. Every local, county, and state police officer on call seemed to be on the scene of the bullet-riddled mansion.
David felt his mouth hanging open when he climbed out of the cruiser and saw no less than three sheets covering dead bodies. Two were where there had once been a rhododendron bush, next to the path leading to the rear of the mansion and the lake. Another was on the porch in front of the bay window. David spotted another sheet covering a body at the other corner of the house.
“We’ve got five dead bodies,” Spencer Police Officer Fletcher trotted down from the porch to tell his police chief. Before David could ask, he grasped his arm. “None of them are Mac or Archie, Chief.”
Sighing with relief, David noticed the bullet-riddled blue sedan in front of the house. It had Pennsylvania tags. “Who does the sedan belong to?”
“It’s registered to an Agnes Douglas,” Spencer Officer Zigler said. “Do you know her?”
“That’s Archie’s mother.” David swallowed.
“The mother of the bride?”
“I need to call Bogie,” David said at the same time that his phone buzzed. The caller ID read ‘Bogie.’ He brought the phone to his ear. “Yeah, Bogie.”
“What’s going on? I heard a call from dispatch that there’s been a shooting, and it’s Mac’s address. I’m at the hair salon with Archie and her bridal party. What’s going on? Do you need me to come in?”
David turned around to take in the bodies covered with white tarps. The medical examiner’s van pulled up to the yellow crime scene tape that they had stretched across the two stone pillars marking the estate entrance. “It’s bad, Bogie,” he said with a choke in his voice.
“Mac …” Bogie’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Do you think I should take Archie and the ladies back to the Inn?”
“Yes,” David answered. “Mac’s not here. Has Archie talked to him?”
“Not since I’ve been with her.”
“We don’t know where he is, Bogie. Archie’s mother’s car is here, but she’s gone, too.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Stay with Archie. Make some sort of excuse to get her back to the Inn. But don’t tell her anything. I want to know some answers before I talk to her.”
“Will do, Chief.” Bogie hung up.
Sucking in all his strength. David sent a quick text to Mac’s phone. “Call me ASAP!”
“Chief O’Callaghan,” Sheriff Turow called out as soon as he climbed out of his cruiser. Two more sheriff’s deputy cruisers pulled in behind him. “How can we help?” He squatted to take a look under one of the tarps. “Are any of the victims Mac Faraday or Archie Monday?”
“No,” David replied. “Archie Monday is with my deputy chief. She knows nothing about this yet. We’re looking for Mac.”
“Anything you need from me or my deputies, you got it,” the sheriff said. “I guess we need to take a deeper look into Dooley’s background. We can’t eliminate the possibility that this is connected to Dooley’s murder.”
“No, we can’t,” David said with a nod of his head.
“What do you know?” the sheriff asked.
“Neighbors say it was sudden,” Officer Brewster reported. “They were all heavily armed with automatic weapons. One minute all was quiet, and the next minute all hell broke loose. The two guys and the bush over near the garage, and the guy over at the corner of the house—all got taken out by what looks like grenades.”
“I don’t think Mac uses grenades,” David said with a shake of his head.
“Then on whose side were these guys who got hit with grenades?” the sheriff asked. “Mac or whoever was shooting at him?”
David shrugged his shoulders.
Officer Brewster continued his report. “The guy inside got it in the chest as he came in through the deck windows. As soon as it was over, witnesses saw a black SUV with West Virginia tags flying out of here.”
