Down River

by Karen Harper

  "Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me..."

  Lisa felt she was so blessed to have been saved from a wretched death like Ginger's, like her mother's and sister's. But that wasn't enough. Only justice for Ginger and herself was enough. And she wanted to know why. Why? It had to be more than the senior partnership.

  As she stood between Mitch and the Bonners, her gaze drifted to Spike, standing tall at the head of the coffin with Christine at his side. Spike was the only one she knew who had seemed unhappy to see her back from the hospital. He'd glared at her, and she'd noticed Christine shaking her head and whispering as if to calm him. She would have to ask her new friend to help intercede with Spike, especially if he was blaming her for somehow causing Ginger's death.

  "I once was lost but now am found...."

  She had found that she still loved Mitch and wanted a life with him, but she felt confused and lost about her old life. She couldn't leave it as cleanly and decisively as Mitch had. She couldn't come to stay in Alaska, to become a ptarmigan with feathered feet, however much she felt the camaraderie and support of all these people she hardly knew.

  But it was the present that was as confusing as the future. She and Mitch had thought they'd be able to find her enemy, but, as Christine said, the evildoer was not only crooked but clever. Graham? Vanessa? Jonas? And now, did she have to worry Spike might want revenge, too? Thank God, she'd been able to eliminate being suspicious about Christine. It was silly, of course, that a doll could cement a friendship between two grown women and bring comfort for the loss of Lisa's family, but somehow, it helped.

  "Was blind but now I see."

  She did see now that she'd been wrong to keep the sheriff out of this, because they had not been able to force anyone's hand. It had to be settled here, not back in Florida where she'd be without Mitch's help and protection.

  If she turned her head slightly, she could see Sheriff Moran, in full dress uniform, next to his car, just outside the cemetery gate. He'd come as a favor to Mitch and a kindness to Spike and had led the procession the short distance from the church to the grave. But she'd heard he was leaving for Talkeetna immediately after the burial.

  Now that her head was clearer than it had been in the hospital, she agreed with Mitch they should get the sheriff involved. There was not much time left. Spike had said he'd fly them to Anchorage just as he'd flown them in, but she wondered if he'd be willing to take her anywhere.

  The service ended, and, when she looked, the sheriff's car was pulling away. Some townspeople went up for final words with Spike; some walked quietly toward the gates. Those who had been invited to the lodge for a lunch reception headed for their cars. The lodge vehicles were parked close by. Lisa saw Vanessa and Jonas start for them, heads down, deep in a conversation Lisa would love to overhear.

  And then she saw Gus striding toward the grave site from the back of the cemetery, and she grabbed Mitch's arm and nodded in that direction.

  "He must have waited for the sheriff to leave," Mitch muttered. "He has every right to be here, but Spike's really on edge today." Before Lisa could say anything, Mitch moved toward Gus, just as Spike evidently saw Gus coming.

  "Oh, my," Ellie said to Graham. "Not more trouble."

  "Mitch will handle it," he assured her, and turned to Lisa. "You know I delayed announcing my selection for senior partner while you were hospitalized," he told her, taking her wrist as if to hold her there. His fingers snagged in the seagull bracelet Mitch had given her. She'd decided to wear it today for the first time in over a year, but she had a jacket on and Mitch hadn't noticed it yet. Holding Ellie with his other hand, Graham said, "I'd like to speak with you privately today before I tell everyone my decision."

  "You realize some townspeople are coming back to the lodge for food after this?" Lisa asked.

  "We'll find a time," he said, and they all turned their attention to Mitch, who stood like a referee between two fighters ready to go at it in the ring.

  "This is surely not the place and time for anything but honoring Ginger's life," Mitch's voice rang out. "Spike, Gus is obviously here for that reason. Isn't that right, Gus?"

  Glowering past Mitch at Spike, who stood much taller, though not as bulky as Gus, the man nodded.

  "Spike, can you accept that right now?" Mitch asked.

  Like Gus, he said nothing but nodded. By then the minister had evidently seen the confrontation and walked over to take Gus's arm and escort him toward the casket.

  Lisa had overheard Jonas say earlier that people were buried pretty shallow in Alaska, probably because digging into the permafrost was a challenge. It was similar to burials in South Florida where the water table was near the surface. She'd never given it a thought before, but she realized now she'd rather be buried in Alaska than Florida. Who wanted water creeping up toward their coffin? Funny how so many things pointed to her living here.

  "Come on, Lisa," Ellie said, gesturing toward Mitch's SUV. "You don't need to get overtired your first day out of the hospital, and I want to help Christine set up for the buffet. Graham, I'm really rather glad Mitchell didn't invite Gus to the lodge for the luncheon."

  With a last glance at Ginger's casket and the bright rainbow of wildflowers gracing it--remembering the glorious Alaska sunset sky she'd seen with Mitch in the wilds and wishing she could see the dancing hues of the aurora--Lisa turned away. But she vowed anew not to turn her back on what had happened to Ginger or herself.

  About twenty townspeople who had known Ginger or were Spike's friends mingled with the lodge guests near noon. Spike finally showed up. Mitch had been getting nervous since the near confrontation with Gus, but Spike said he'd just stayed to see the grave "closed proper."

  Proper, Lisa thought. Nothing was proper about Ginger's death or two attempts on her own life.

  For some reason, both Jonas and Vanessa were hovering so close to Lisa that she was starting to feel claustrophobic. Had they heard that Graham wanted a private word with her this afternoon, or were they really in cahoots to harm her--again? She couldn't live like this. She even took to guarding her drink and plate of food.

  Maybe they had somehow learned she'd asked Mitch to put a call in to Sheriff Moran to ask him to come out when he returned to his office today. He'd be here as soon as possible, Mitch had said, but he was at the scene of a hit-and-run.

  A hit-and-run, Lisa thought. She'd had two of those and she wasn't going to have another.

  She was tempted to go up to her room to lie down, but she'd promised Mitch she would not be out of his sight, unless it was to talk to Graham, and then it should be in a fairly public place, like the patio.

  When the locals finally left and Graham suggested they meet in ten minutes for a short conference, she surprised herself by suggesting they walk down by the dock. If, she thought, he'd had anything to do with pushing her in the river or trapping her in the sauna or with Ginger's death, that setting might unsettle him.

  In the upstairs hall, Lisa told Mitch where she and Graham were going to meet. "Good move," he said. "I'll watch you from the back windows. That way I'll be here in case the sheriff phones or arrives, but I got the idea it would be later."

  "I guess with all the time I've wasted waiting to call him in, I can't complain about a little wait now."

  "And it's going to be busy here, so the time will fly, but I don't want you to tire yourself out. Christine suggested to me that, to keep Spike busy this afternoon and help him out, we all transport some items he wants removed from Ginger's cottage here to the lodge. Spike wants us to have some things and others will go to his place later. Ellie's going to organize it. As soon as you're finish speaking to Graham, come back in so I know what he said and I can update you on what's happening. And don't be shocked, whatever he says."

  "He's not going to offer me senior partner, is he?" she said with a shake of her head and little snort. She propped one hand on her hip. "Damn, he is, isn't he? I'm getting so I can read your mind!"


  "Then I'm really in trouble. Are you going to slap my face?"

  "You're outrageous--and precious to me. What you told me in the hospital about loving me--I feel the same way, too. Not again, still. Mitch, look," she said, holding out her left arm so he could see the seagull bracelet. "I'm wearing it again."

  He took her hand and turned the bracelet around her wrist, slowly, somehow sensuously, and whispered, "I wish we could get two ptarmigans on there, too--ones with feathered feet."

  "I--it doesn't mean that. I don't know how we'll ever work things out, but if Graham's going to offer me that lofty and vaunted position after everything this week, he must be hoping to buy me off. Evidently he doesn't think my apparent string of bad luck will rub off on the firm."

  "Hear him out. He may say something to tip his hand so that--"

  "Lisa, you ready?" Graham called to her, leaving the huddle around Spike and Christine that must be the meeting over helping Spike this afternoon. Lisa felt good about that at least. Until the sheriff came, she'd pitch in and hope to smooth things over with Spike. Still, once the sheriff started questioning people, nothing might ever be smooth between her and her colleagues again.

  "You want to just stand here or sit on the dock?" Graham asked Lisa as they stopped at the lakeshore. "You must be tired."

  "I'm fine," she lied. "That little hospital stay was just what the doctor ordered."

  "You're feeling flip today. Here I expected sadness--for Ginger, for leaving Mitch again."

  "I do grieve for Ginger and Spike. For Mitch and Christine, too, for their loss of their friend. I guess I'm just mad as hell and not going to take it anymore about what's happened to me here this week."

  "Despite your slipups, shall we say, I think it's brought out the best in you. And here I thought facing Mitch after he betrayed and deserted you would be the worst you'd have to handle here. Lisa," he said, turning to her, "your tough, resilient and determined qualities are just what Carlisle, Bonner needs in all its leadership positions."

  She looked into his blue eyes. He stared back steadily, no wavering, no change of expression, despite a slight tic at the corner of his mouth. "Maybe you should be seated," he said and went over to sit on the edge of the dock with his feet on the shore. She sat, too. Spike's plane, still tethered to the dock, seemed to hover over them. "Lisa, this week of hardship has convinced me, and Ellie agrees, that we should offer you the position of senior partner."

  Her eyes widened, and she had to fight to keep her lower lip from dropping open. It was what she had wanted desperately for so long, maybe partly because it had once been Mitch's. It was an offer she'd suspected was coming from talking to Mitch. Yet it was a shock to hear the words, especially after the chaos of the week.

  But now the offer, even framed in such a flattering, supportive way, seemed sullied. Was it a bribe? Bait? Or, had this entire week been a sort of survival test, and she was the survivor?

  "I didn't think you'd be speechless," he said. "It's not like you."

  "I've changed this week."

  "But for the better, or I would have named Vanessa or Jonas. They'd both kill for the position."

  She narrowed her gaze at him. Had he meant to word it that way? Was he playing with her mind, as whoever pushed her in the river surely must have been, or was he innocent of such an innuendo?

  "Graham, I know you will find this hard to believe but--"

  "If you turn me down," he interrupted, his usually well-modulated voice rough-edged now, "you'll regret it."

  "Do what you must, but, as honored as I am by your trust and support, I can't give you an answer right now. I hope that's acceptable, because I do not intend it as an insult to you or the firm. Considering what I've been through this week, I hope you'll give me a little time. I'm not even sure I'm going back with all of you tomorrow. I have to get a few things settled."

  "Lisa, you have clients--important clients--who have been rescheduled once already. Settle things with Mitch, you mean?"

  "Yes."

  "All right--listen. I've offered to have him consult with the firm part-time. I think he's considering it. You come back with us tomorrow, see your clients, take a couple of days to decide about the senior partnership, then give me a yea or nay when you're in normal surroundings. Mitch has guests coming next week, but after that, I'll fly him in to discuss my offer--and you two can hash things out then. We'll help poor Spike this afternoon, then just tell Jonas and Vanessa the decision will be made later, because of the--the upheaval this week--and that they are still in the running, because obviously they are. And I repeat, we really want you to take this position, or I'd never allow a stall like this."

  She nodded, thanked him for the offer and for being so understanding, then headed back inside the lodge, leaving him sitting stiff-shouldered on the dock. She felt like a coward that she had stonewalled him, not only about the fact she no longer felt she wanted his precious position, but because all hell was going to break loose when the sheriff arrived and heard what she and Mitch had to say.

  She knew if Sheriff Moran dared to question Graham, his lawyers, and especially Ellie again, it was all over for her at Carlisle, Bonner, no matter what had just happened here.

  "Just make sure," Spike told Christine as they stood by his truck outside the lodge, "that Lisa doesn't get near me. I don't care if they are all helping to move Ginger's things this afternoon."

  "Listen to yourself," she told him, putting her palm against his chest. She was surprised to feel how hard his heart was pounding. The doctors had stabilized Lisa's heartbeat, but she was worried about Spike's blood pressure. "You nearly had a fight with Gus," she said, "and now you're at war with Lisa. Please, Spike, don't let Ginger's death turn you against folks who--"

  "If I thought the sheriff had done a decent job looking into Ginger's death, I'd get him in on this again."

  "Mitch called him. The entire thing may be reopened, but you can't let on. Lisa finally decided they needed official help--"

  "I don't care if she's had it rough. She should have told the sheriff the second she got back to the lodge from her river rescue that someone pushed her in. Then he would have gotten on Ginger's case, too. I read there's like a twenty-four-hour golden period for investigations for murders."

  "I think that's for kidnappings, not murders."

  "Hell, you ought to know."

  Christine felt as if he'd slapped her. She pulled her hand back from touching him. Tears filled her eyes. Spike hung his head, looked away.

  "Sorry," he whispered. "I just can't stand it that Ginger died that way, and Lisa should have screamed bloody murder from the first. And the man you think can do no wrong should have filled me in right away."

  "Maybe, but she and Mitch thought they could figure out who it was, but if it was public, they'd never know."

  "Maybe they even thought I pushed her, trying to keep her away from Mitch. And see, you're defending him again--her, too. They hurt Ginger, hurt me. But I'm sorry I hurt you. See you later. I gotta lot to do."

  24

  H

  elping Spike in honor of Ginger was, Lisa thought, an appropriate way to spend time waiting for the sheriff. She was sad, for their activities emphasized Ginger's loss. And her stomach kept cramping over nervous expectation of the sheriff's imminent arrival. Maybe he would insist that she and the others stay behind for complete questioning. Or he might learn enough to make an arrest. Nervously, she kept twisting her seagull bracelet around her wrist. She, Christine and Mitch were manning the lodge, storing items that Jonas and Vanessa, Ellie and Graham brought back in large vehicles from Ginger's cabin, where Spike was sorting through her possessions. Lisa and Christine put things away that were meant for the lodge. Most of Ginger's baking equipment was stored in the kitchen. They also made a pile on the front porch that would go to Spike's place later. All the activity meant that people--suspects--were scattered between the cabin and the lodge on the winding forest road.

  Mitch was sticking close to t
he phone, waiting for the sheriff's call, or even better, his arrival in person. If anyone asked why Mitch wasn't helping to unload, Lisa and Christine were just to say that, since they had overstayed their reservation, he had to phone or e-mail future guests to be sure their travel plans were set.

  "So where does this load go?" Lisa asked as she and Christine went out to meet Jonas and Vanessa. Jonas opened the trunk to reveal boxes of clay pots for plants and an array of garden tools.

  "Spike said it's for the lodge and not his place. That's all I know," Jonas said. "At home or here, this kind of stuff's not my thing."

  "I'll go ask Mitch," Lisa said.

  She saw he stood away from the front windows but was looking out. She and Christine had orders to not so much as go to the bathroom without the other waiting outside the door. As Mitch had put it, "We're so close to telling the sheriff that I don't want anything else to happen."

  Earlier, after Lisa had come back in from hearing Graham offer her the senior partnership, she and Mitch had huddled briefly in the back hall by the library. "Yes, he offered it to me, and I said I needed some time," she had whispered.

  "Did you say you'd go back with them tomorrow?"

  "No, but he insisted. He said he'd fly you to Florida soon about that consultant position he's offered you."